move forward
“my name is foreigner from a far away
land. my feet are covered in earth,
they’ve been here and back again.
and i have seen great things
from a distance, they beckon me.
i follow them. and i move forward…
i move forward to home…”
- Bethany Dillon, singer/songwriter
ugly culture shock
i ask you, just how much Lionel Richie music can one endure in a single day?!
It’s 5 o’clock in the evening, we’re winding down after a hard day’s work and New Kids on the Block are singing “The Right Stuff” on the radio! Can you believe it? Is there any radio station in all of the U.S. still playing the New Kids?
Culture shock is just a nice way to say “hostile attitude” against the culture within which one is trying to live peaceably. You had to know this was coming…When you remain in a foreign culture for any length of time, they say that a person must struggle through phases of culture shock – or the rejection of that new culture. Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate everything. Just certain things. And I pass in and out of this ugliness. But I thought I’d give you a glimpse, should you care to know what I am experiencing. (Please skip this section, if you’re having a bad day and can’t listen to any more whiners. And some of you have been using words such as “noble” and “heroic” to describe what I am doing. I want to dispel those myths right now.)
Right now, for instance, there are all these crazy loud men outside my house (on the street) yelling in a language which I can’t understand about who knows what, and giggling as if high on drugs. It’s late. (This may sound a lot like your neighbors and not at all foreign.)
And why don’t they put screens on the windows so that all these freaky bugs don’t walk in and out of our houses at will?
When we go to church on Sundays and park on the streets, we have to have security guards patrol the parked cars against thieves. Apparently, Lee and Anne Marie used to have small Bible studies at their house, but that had to stop when the thieves started breaking into all of the parked cars in the evenings.
There’s a guard who guards our compound. He walks with heavy, clod-hopping steps around my house all night long, triggering two motion sensor lights, a squeaky gate, and my eyelids. (God – please make me a heavy sleeper!)
And the music at Nairobi Chapel is seriously killing me. At 8 a.m. (not being a morning person either) imagine loud drums, off-key violins, off-key singing to songs you don’t know (and if you do know the songs, you think – oh no, please, please don’t sing it like that) – I look around, out of the corner of my eye, to see if anyone else thinks it sounds funny, but they don’t seem to. So I figure it’s me. Something is wrong with me. Culture shock. I feel like a crabby old person complaining about petty, petty things. That’s what I’m reduced to.
You should taste the ketchup here. It isn’t ketchup.
And the foods that my African friends love such as “ugali” (oo-gal-ee) – I’d like to rename it ugh-ali. Internally, I find myself reacting like a 4-year old.
See – I’m thinking that they do things wrong here, but it isn’t wrong, it’s just different (thanks Pastor Karen for teaching me that).
So please, if you were beginning to place me on a pedestal, kick it over right now.
On to more important matters like water.
Boreholes
They say that wars in the future will not be over oil or land, but over water - an increasingly precious and sought-after resource, especially in developing nations.
Boreholes. That’s what they call “wells” here in British-ease. The work of New Life Homes/Barnabas Ministries is further reaching than I’d imagined. Not only do they care for over 130 babies in 6 homes, but they also reach out to rural people groups in a region called Tana River. This is sub-Saharan Africa. Picture arid and semi-arid regions. No water. Dry land. Hardly the best circumstances for growing and sustaining a food source. Plus, the people are apparently resistant and slow to change (we are a stubborn species!) But one of our goals beginning in March 2007 is to drill 3 boreholes in three of the towns where we have small churches and leadership already in place. We’ll also construct a school at each location to move the schools out from “under the trees” into something more lasting and effective. The boreholes will eventually, hopefully, become sources for not just drinking water, but for irrigation of small agricultural developments. Right now, we have been running Feeding Programs at many of these rural locations because people are starving and there’s been a drought here in Kenya. But we don’t want to continue giving handouts, we want to turn toward creating a sustainable source of food and income for the people, empowering them to meet their needs through the resources that God has provided. Give a man a fish and he’ll feed himself for a day, teach a man how to fish and he’ll feed himself for life… right?
We have a total of 16 sites where we would like to place boreholes, schools, and agricultural developments. (I’m picturing teams coming out for school construction?)
lamenting
i want to leave you with some thoughts on the grief that this world, and these children, have inspired (for lack of a better word) in me.
Thanks for reading and praying.
With love,
janay
though i am free
“though i am free
and belong to no man
i make myself a slave
to everyone to win
as many as possible.”
1 Corinthians 9:19
though i am free
and belong to no man
i belong to all men
women and
children, especially
the children for they belong to Him
who loves
and creates
and rescues.
though i am free
i belong to Him who is my head
for i am His body,
His beautifully
broken and resurrected body.
His body cries and starves
and throws tantrums and
has glazed, unloved eyes.
His body has AIDS and
is sick and dying (again).
His body has bed sores
on heels and elbows so deep
from neglect. His body cries
too often tears fall
from the head.
tears
fall
and
fall
and
fall.
Where are the hands to catch them?
God,
Catch the tears of these babies and put them into Your beautiful bottle
and pour them out onto heads and hands as an anointing to this commission and calling.
Let the salt of these babies’ tears inspire us to follow You at all costs.
Let us be the salt You have created us to be.
amen.
from A Sacred Sorrow: Reaching out to God in the Lost Language of Lament
by Michael Card:
“Jesus wept the tears of the world.
How is it my eyes are dry?
Or only wet with my tears?
For the tiniest speck of one of the millions of seconds of my life has there
ever been the smallest drop of one of the world’s tears in my eyes?
When they see me, does the world see a man of sorrows?
Or do they see a false pretended joy that they could never know because
I have never known it myself? Could never know while holding so dear
my own comforts.
Grant me, O Lord, an acquaintance with such tears that the world
has wept.
Surely the presence of such a great grief in my life would displace my
small sadness, my petty anger, my selfish sorrows.
O red-eyed Jesus, turn my tears into the world’s tears.
And awaken in the deepest part of my falsely satisfied soul
One Vast Loud ‘Ekah!’”*
*Ekah is the Hebrew name for the book of Lamentations; it means “how.”
the babies’ unspoken hearts:
“O Lord, You took up my case;
You redeemed my life.
You have seen, O Lord, the wrong
done to me.
Uphold my cause!”
- Lamentations 3:58
New Life Home Trust, Nairobi
Vanloads of volunteers, well-wishers, and church-goers pull into our parking lot each day. We have an average of 20-40 volunteers and visitors coming through here every single day. I wonder what they will take away from their experience … a fond memory? A heroic story to tell? A burdened heart? A new direction in life?
What we pray they will take away: the faces of the children burned into their retinas like the face of the sun (Son)…their vision forever changed.
I continue to research and write letters of inquiry to foundations (mostly) seeking funding sources for this work. We’ve had one rejection so far and one “hit”. A large international organization wants to fund some of the equipment we’ll need for our special-needs unit (for long-term care for HIV positive children and children with disabilities), as well as monies for medicines, furniture, etc. This is a huge blessing!
But this nagging part of me, the human, fleshly part, feels as if I can never do enough. Like a parent, who wants to provide the best…
When I returned from Lamu, after being gone for 5 days, the sound and sight of the 53 children was so wonderful. Esther toddled over to me, grinning from ear to ear and threw her chubby arms around me. She knows how I love her, the little queen.
Lamu Islands: The Second Mecca
Lamu islands were a trip. Stayed in an 18th century home in an 18th century world filled with pregnant donkeys roaming the dirt roadways and Muslim calls to prayer. I’ve never experienced a place quite like this – Arabic, British, African, Muslim. The place is so slow and relaxed. No cars. Even Meleckson (the New Life Home leader/pastor/director) communicates at a pace and tone consistent with the island – slow and quiet.
Braying donkeys break the pre-dawn silence here. I don’t think that donkeys should speak before dawn. Nor the Muslim Imams (leaders) on loud-speakers for that matter. The 5:30 a.m. call to prayer on a failing P.A. system is like the Muslim equivalent of the flag salute in junior high. (No disrespect intended.) All kidding aside though, the Muslims on Lamu were so wonderful, hospitable and fascinating. I found myself loving them and desperately wanting to ask them about their world, their feelings, their thoughts…
In the middle of Lamu Island’s town square is a fort-like structure which used to be a holding place for slaves awaiting their ships to sail. The Muslim women in burkahs (the head-to-toe black dress) and ninjas (the face covering with a slit for their eyes) are a disturbing and fascinating image for me. One night, we walked around the island with complete freedom from fear and crime. Everyone knows everyone. Meleckson said it’s safe. The violence done on this island is not against strangers, but sadly against one’s own family members. At the New Life Drop-In Center, they have a “Rescue Room.” It’s a small room with 3 beds, a forlorn stuffed animal sitting on each, awaiting a child to comfort. The Rescue Room receives children who’ve been victimized (usually, sexually) for as long as two weeks. A “mama” or “dada” (depending on the child’s gender) stay with them and care for them until other, safe arrangements can be made. They receive children as young as 3 years old in the Rescue Room. We went into that little room and I just felt like weeping – the Rescue Room.
Over the years, the two New Life Drop-In Centers have become an advocate for the children at risk on this island of 30,000 people. Meleckson says that people are beginning to come to their center and turn people in for abuse, rising up and saying, “This is not right.” Ironically, there’s a hospital on the island for sick donkeys – the Sick Donkey Hospital (not kidding!). A cart actually goes around the island, picks up donkeys, and carts them back to the hospital. But there’s no such “watchdog” or “care group” for the children, or for those dying of AIDS. Meleckson says that the people are in denial about AIDS, saying, It has not come here.
I hadn’t expected to love the Muslim women so much or to want to sit with them on the floor and try to connect with them. I hadn’t expected my heart to want to reach theirs. My heart is so curious about them – what life is like for them, how they survive, how they thrive, what they think and feel about their beliefs, what they think and feel about Jesus – one of their prophets, my Savior. Though New Life’s project on the island is Christian, they employ Muslim teachers, staff, and involve Imams and strong female leaders from the Muslim community. I love this because it’s such a picture of partnership. It’s such a picture of Jesus getting out of the walls of “church” and hanging out with everyone. At dinner, I sat next to Amina, one of the female leaders who supports New Life. We talked about Islam, about how it means “Peace” and she even joked about her clothing being cause to call her a terrorist at the airport. Meleckson says that some people throw stones on top of the roof of the Christian church on the island and say bad things, but other than that, there’s no animosity. “Whoever is not against us is for us” (Mk. 9:40).
the old man
From Lamu Islands we took a “speed” boat to mainland Lamu, then got into a matatu (read: old, decrepit minivan with balding tires) and drove for 90 minutes across country to arrive at a small church in Mpeketoni. Inside the hot, tin-roof church sat 36 church, community, and health workers eager for leadership training. Meleckson says they’re “hungry” for knowledge. Most have not been educated past high school equivalent. Anne Marie (New Life associate director) taught so honestly and powerfully on HIV/AIDS. Lee taught on how to transform communities through empowering the people to initiate and follow through on projects. I sat and listened and learned.
I was humbled, and again, felt like crying (have you noticed a pattern with me?) Some traveled as far as 200 km. (5-7 hours) on horrible roads to be there. I was just so encouraged to meet those leaders. There was one old man who kept falling asleep in the front row. Meleckson says that he has helped to start 17 churches. When the old man managed to stay awake, you would see him leaning over his Bible until it was just a few inches from his face, straining to see the Word of God. How precious that must be in God’s sight!
a call to educators
Every parent and guardian wants their child to have the opportunity to be educated. But the educators here need education. Especially the educators in rural Africa (Tana River District). Teams of educators could travel out on a semi-annual basis to run week-long workshops on basics such as classroom management, childhood development, all subjects, etc.… and bring educational resources. Training is especially needed in the areas of early childhood and primary education …
Doo-Doos
I’ll leave you with my doo-doo story: while in Mpeketoni, this crazy looking bug got into my hotel room. I spotted him standing on my wall, looking far-too-large for a bug. I stepped toward him and he just kept hovering on the wall like a black spaceship. Huge wings. Long legs. I was terrified! Could he fly? What would he do if I got a shoe? Wait – no way was I getting a shoe – that’s not big enough for this creature! Too big for a shoe smashing, I sprayed him with bug spray. This put him on the run (he couldn’t fly!) I threw my towel over him (as any good bug coward would do) and stomped on him then went running out to tell Lee. (Wonderful Lee cleaned up the bug guts for me.) The African hotel workers laughed at me and called it a “doo-doo”, which just means “big bug with no name.” I killed a doo-doo. The doo-doo walked off the mango tree and into my room, big mistake.
Don’t forget to be on the lookout for doo-doos throughout your day.
Kwaheri,
janay
Random Facts:
White skin is also known as “inflation.” The minute they see white people (mzungus), the price spikes upward.
Ladies, rinsing with well-water creates many consecutive “good hair” days. And cold showers invigorate the skin! Come experience it for yourself at the New Life Spa & Resort. J
If you put your money in your underwear (because you’re scared to carry a purse) it will fall into the toilet to be peed upon. I’m not saying I did this, I’m just saying it could happen…
Rock the Baby Team updates:
Baby E (ACTS 1:8 baby) went home to be with her new adoptive family! She cried and cried and cried being carried to the car. But she now has an older brother, a mom and dad. I can’t help but think how the zillions of thoughts and prayers coming out of CCTO affected this child’s destiny since she was spoken of by Karen from the pulpit and prayed for by the children of SonTime for so long. Prayer changes the world.
Families are interested in adopting baby R (Crawler).
Baby Y (Crawler) took her first steps!
Clive (New Life Founder/Director) hung the plaque that CCTO donated above the main entrance door. Apparently as he was up on a chair nailing the plaque onto the wall, he was caught sporting his shorts, his lily white, British legs out and about, by first-time visitors. He just laughed his jolly good laugh and greeted them.
“When you make a vow to God,
do not delay in fulfilling it.
He has no pleasure in fools,
fulfill your vow.
It is better not to vow
than to make a vow and not fulfill it.”
- Ecclesiastes 5:4-5
Vanloads of volunteers, well-wishers, and church-goers pull into our parking lot each day. We have an average of 20-40 volunteers and visitors coming through here every single day. I wonder what they will take away from their experience … a fond memory? A heroic story to tell? A burdened heart? A new direction in life?
What we pray they will take away: the faces of the children burned into their retinas like the face of the sun (Son)…their vision forever changed.
I continue to research and write letters of inquiry to foundations (mostly) seeking funding sources for this work. We’ve had one rejection so far and one “hit”. A large international organization wants to fund some of the equipment we’ll need for our special-needs unit (for long-term care for HIV positive children and children with disabilities), as well as monies for medicines, furniture, etc. This is a huge blessing!
But this nagging part of me, the human, fleshly part, feels as if I can never do enough. Like a parent, who wants to provide the best…
When I returned from Lamu, after being gone for 5 days, the sound and sight of the 53 children was so wonderful. Esther toddled over to me, grinning from ear to ear and threw her chubby arms around me. She knows how I love her, the little queen.
Lamu Islands: The Second Mecca
Lamu islands were a trip. Stayed in an 18th century home in an 18th century world filled with pregnant donkeys roaming the dirt roadways and Muslim calls to prayer. I’ve never experienced a place quite like this – Arabic, British, African, Muslim. The place is so slow and relaxed. No cars. Even Meleckson (the New Life Home leader/pastor/director) communicates at a pace and tone consistent with the island – slow and quiet.
Braying donkeys break the pre-dawn silence here. I don’t think that donkeys should speak before dawn. Nor the Muslim Imams (leaders) on loud-speakers for that matter. The 5:30 a.m. call to prayer on a failing P.A. system is like the Muslim equivalent of the flag salute in junior high. (No disrespect intended.) All kidding aside though, the Muslims on Lamu were so wonderful, hospitable and fascinating. I found myself loving them and desperately wanting to ask them about their world, their feelings, their thoughts…
In the middle of Lamu Island’s town square is a fort-like structure which used to be a holding place for slaves awaiting their ships to sail. The Muslim women in burkahs (the head-to-toe black dress) and ninjas (the face covering with a slit for their eyes) are a disturbing and fascinating image for me. One night, we walked around the island with complete freedom from fear and crime. Everyone knows everyone. Meleckson said it’s safe. The violence done on this island is not against strangers, but sadly against one’s own family members. At the New Life Drop-In Center, they have a “Rescue Room.” It’s a small room with 3 beds, a forlorn stuffed animal sitting on each, awaiting a child to comfort. The Rescue Room receives children who’ve been victimized (usually, sexually) for as long as two weeks. A “mama” or “dada” (depending on the child’s gender) stay with them and care for them until other, safe arrangements can be made. They receive children as young as 3 years old in the Rescue Room. We went into that little room and I just felt like weeping – the Rescue Room.
Over the years, the two New Life Drop-In Centers have become an advocate for the children at risk on this island of 30,000 people. Meleckson says that people are beginning to come to their center and turn people in for abuse, rising up and saying, “This is not right.” Ironically, there’s a hospital on the island for sick donkeys – the Sick Donkey Hospital (not kidding!). A cart actually goes around the island, picks up donkeys, and carts them back to the hospital. But there’s no such “watchdog” or “care group” for the children, or for those dying of AIDS. Meleckson says that the people are in denial about AIDS, saying, It has not come here.
I hadn’t expected to love the Muslim women so much or to want to sit with them on the floor and try to connect with them. I hadn’t expected my heart to want to reach theirs. My heart is so curious about them – what life is like for them, how they survive, how they thrive, what they think and feel about their beliefs, what they think and feel about Jesus – one of their prophets, my Savior. Though New Life’s project on the island is Christian, they employ Muslim teachers, staff, and involve Imams and strong female leaders from the Muslim community. I love this because it’s such a picture of partnership. It’s such a picture of Jesus getting out of the walls of “church” and hanging out with everyone. At dinner, I sat next to Amina, one of the female leaders who supports New Life. We talked about Islam, about how it means “Peace” and she even joked about her clothing being cause to call her a terrorist at the airport. Meleckson says that some people throw stones on top of the roof of the Christian church on the island and say bad things, but other than that, there’s no animosity. “Whoever is not against us is for us” (Mk. 9:40).
the old man
From Lamu Islands we took a “speed” boat to mainland Lamu, then got into a matatu (read: old, decrepit minivan with balding tires) and drove for 90 minutes across country to arrive at a small church in Mpeketoni. Inside the hot, tin-roof church sat 36 church, community, and health workers eager for leadership training. Meleckson says they’re “hungry” for knowledge. Most have not been educated past high school equivalent. Anne Marie (New Life associate director) taught so honestly and powerfully on HIV/AIDS. Lee taught on how to transform communities through empowering the people to initiate and follow through on projects. I sat and listened and learned.
I was humbled, and again, felt like crying (have you noticed a pattern with me?) Some traveled as far as 200 km. (5-7 hours) on horrible roads to be there. I was just so encouraged to meet those leaders. There was one old man who kept falling asleep in the front row. Meleckson says that he has helped to start 17 churches. When the old man managed to stay awake, you would see him leaning over his Bible until it was just a few inches from his face, straining to see the Word of God. How precious that must be in God’s sight!
a call to educators
Every parent and guardian wants their child to have the opportunity to be educated. But the educators here need education. Especially the educators in rural Africa (Tana River District). Teams of educators could travel out on a semi-annual basis to run week-long workshops on basics such as classroom management, childhood development, all subjects, etc.… and bring educational resources. Training is especially needed in the areas of early childhood and primary education …
Doo-Doos
I’ll leave you with my doo-doo story: while in Mpeketoni, this crazy looking bug got into my hotel room. I spotted him standing on my wall, looking far-too-large for a bug. I stepped toward him and he just kept hovering on the wall like a black spaceship. Huge wings. Long legs. I was terrified! Could he fly? What would he do if I got a shoe? Wait – no way was I getting a shoe – that’s not big enough for this creature! Too big for a shoe smashing, I sprayed him with bug spray. This put him on the run (he couldn’t fly!) I threw my towel over him (as any good bug coward would do) and stomped on him then went running out to tell Lee. (Wonderful Lee cleaned up the bug guts for me.) The African hotel workers laughed at me and called it a “doo-doo”, which just means “big bug with no name.” I killed a doo-doo. The doo-doo walked off the mango tree and into my room, big mistake.
Don’t forget to be on the lookout for doo-doos throughout your day.
Kwaheri,
janay
Random Facts:
White skin is also known as “inflation.” The minute they see white people (mzungus), the price spikes upward.
Ladies, rinsing with well-water creates many consecutive “good hair” days. And cold showers invigorate the skin! Come experience it for yourself at the New Life Spa & Resort. J
If you put your money in your underwear (because you’re scared to carry a purse) it will fall into the toilet to be peed upon. I’m not saying I did this, I’m just saying it could happen…
Rock the Baby Team updates:
Baby E (ACTS 1:8 baby) went home to be with her new adoptive family! She cried and cried and cried being carried to the car. But she now has an older brother, a mom and dad. I can’t help but think how the zillions of thoughts and prayers coming out of CCTO affected this child’s destiny since she was spoken of by Karen from the pulpit and prayed for by the children of SonTime for so long. Prayer changes the world.
Families are interested in adopting baby R (Crawler).
Baby Y (Crawler) took her first steps!
Clive (New Life Founder/Director) hung the plaque that CCTO donated above the main entrance door. Apparently as he was up on a chair nailing the plaque onto the wall, he was caught sporting his shorts, his lily white, British legs out and about, by first-time visitors. He just laughed his jolly good laugh and greeted them.
“When you make a vow to God,
do not delay in fulfilling it.
He has no pleasure in fools,
fulfill your vow.
It is better not to vow
than to make a vow and not fulfill it.”
- Ecclesiastes 5:4-5
February 3, 2007
I'm surviving Africa. No, i'm better than surviving, i'm actually enjoying it here. My office mates, Jacinta and Juliet are hilarious. They sing unabashedly to the radio - echoing kenny rogers or whatever cheesy singer from the 80's is on. This occurs all day long, even while you’re on the telephone. Constant noise and good humor. And they're laughing at me learning Swahili. Every day this brings them great joy to teach me a new word and then giggle upon my pronunciation. Didn’t know God was sending me over here for comic relief. Associate Director Lee says that he can hear us laughing from his house. Of course, Jacinta and Juliet blame this on me. And I blame it on my mom, from whom i've inherited this loud, hearty laugh. J Passing the buck…
Speaking of bucks…some of you are wondering what I’ve been doing with my days… so I’ll tell you. One of my main roles right now is to research grants and monies available through foundations and corporations. It’s amazing how God has really provided for this ministry without a grant writer! It’s been established for 13 years and God has always provided the funds! But now they’re at a place in their ministry where they’d like to get donors in the cue (or lined up) for areas in need of development. The ministry is larger than you can imagine from the website or word of mouth. They operate in 9 areas of Kenya including 5 children’s homes for orphaned and abandoned babies (with priority given to HIV positive babies), feeding programs (there’s a drought/famine here in parts), and 16 rural schools for underprivileged children. {{Please be thinking about your corporate connections and ways that you/they might be involved in meeting the needs of the children in Africa.}}
On January 31 I went with one of the social workers, Grace, along with two other nurses/volunteers to pick up (a.k.a. rescue) four babies into the care of New Life Homes. We went to Jomo Kenyatta Hospital (public and government-run). Can you say ghetto? What a slum of a facility and named after a former President, too. Who would want such a dump named after himself? The first thing I noticed as I walked in the front entrance was a sign pointing to the “Anti-Corruption Unit”. Ha! What a joke. Corruption seems to permeate every aspect of society here. The walls are lined with mosaics and expensive-looking artwork while throngs of poverty-stricken people push through the traffic-jammed hallways. All those verses in the Bible about “injustice” just come alive for me now. We were supposed to pick up the babies last week, but due to the corrupt and slow bureaucracy of the powers-that-be, we were allowed in a week later than we had requested. The fourth baby – the baby whom they called “baby d” died. It’s infuriating. The babies we rescued today all had feeding tubes taped to their cheeks and inserted into their noses. They’re not bottle-fed or really touched, though the nurses today struck me as compassionate and caring. The babies were called “baby a”, “baby b”, and “baby c”. Talk about dehumanizing a little human being created in God’s image. I guess if you call a baby by a letter or a number, you distance yourself from caring about his or her life. Distance creates apathy and apathy allows injustice to continue. So we left the hospital with “babies a, b, and c” and took them home to a new life. The baby I carried home was named Jim (after Jim Krill and Jim Powers), the only girl baby was named Melissa (in honor of nurse and Rock the Baby Team Member Melissa Bart/Dennis), and the last baby was named Stuart. They’re all off to a great start in their new home and beds in the Intensive Care Unit.
One more thing about the hospital situation before I move on to lighter things – in the same room with the abandoned babies were three abandoned children with cerebral palsy. They were the size of 3 or 4 year olds. They’d been growing in their hospital beds like vegetables since their birth and abandonment. There are apparently no facilities for disabled or special-needs children here in Kenya. One child would not stop crying. I spoke to another child, named Ruth (my strong and loving Grandmother’s name), whose front teeth were rotting and whose mouth was filled with sores, whose body is never touched or loved except during diaper changes. What do you do with human suffering? Why is it so? Let’s intervene. Let’s do something.
Africa teaches and speaks through her moans and groans, through her tears and songs. I’m learning a lot. I’ve learned that it’s hard to break babies. This is a good thing, since i’m not always graceful – especially when they projectile vomit on you or yank your hair like little cavemen! At first I thought I’d break them if I held them a certain way, but they’re really quite durable and sturdy. Especially these babies here. They’ve been through it.
I’ve learned that faster is not necessarily better. I felt like pulling my hair out over the speed of the internet connection and the suddenly slow functioning of my personal laptop - it’s become Kenyan and moves poly-poly (slowly-slowly). But someone sent me this verse and it’s taught me a lot:
“Better one handful with tranquility
than two handfuls with toil and chasing after the wind.” Ecclesiastes 4:6
Less with peace is better than more with striving. So here’s to dial-up and to patience and to waiting. Thanks for praying and listening. I love hearing from you all!
Kwaheri (Bye) for now,
janay
“I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all communities and (nations).
I cannot sit idly by … Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.
We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.
Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”
- Martin Luther King Jr. in Why We Can’t Wait (italics mine)
In Africa…
“Justice is driven back,
and righteousness stands at a distance;
truth has stumbled in the streets,
honesty cannot enter.
Truth is nowhere to be found,
and whoever shuns evil becomes a prey.
The Lord looked and was displeased
that there was no justice.
He saw that there was no one,
He was appalled that there was no one to intervene;
so His own arm worked salvation…” (Isaiah 59:14-16)
Speaking of bucks…some of you are wondering what I’ve been doing with my days… so I’ll tell you. One of my main roles right now is to research grants and monies available through foundations and corporations. It’s amazing how God has really provided for this ministry without a grant writer! It’s been established for 13 years and God has always provided the funds! But now they’re at a place in their ministry where they’d like to get donors in the cue (or lined up) for areas in need of development. The ministry is larger than you can imagine from the website or word of mouth. They operate in 9 areas of Kenya including 5 children’s homes for orphaned and abandoned babies (with priority given to HIV positive babies), feeding programs (there’s a drought/famine here in parts), and 16 rural schools for underprivileged children. {{Please be thinking about your corporate connections and ways that you/they might be involved in meeting the needs of the children in Africa.}}
On January 31 I went with one of the social workers, Grace, along with two other nurses/volunteers to pick up (a.k.a. rescue) four babies into the care of New Life Homes. We went to Jomo Kenyatta Hospital (public and government-run). Can you say ghetto? What a slum of a facility and named after a former President, too. Who would want such a dump named after himself? The first thing I noticed as I walked in the front entrance was a sign pointing to the “Anti-Corruption Unit”. Ha! What a joke. Corruption seems to permeate every aspect of society here. The walls are lined with mosaics and expensive-looking artwork while throngs of poverty-stricken people push through the traffic-jammed hallways. All those verses in the Bible about “injustice” just come alive for me now. We were supposed to pick up the babies last week, but due to the corrupt and slow bureaucracy of the powers-that-be, we were allowed in a week later than we had requested. The fourth baby – the baby whom they called “baby d” died. It’s infuriating. The babies we rescued today all had feeding tubes taped to their cheeks and inserted into their noses. They’re not bottle-fed or really touched, though the nurses today struck me as compassionate and caring. The babies were called “baby a”, “baby b”, and “baby c”. Talk about dehumanizing a little human being created in God’s image. I guess if you call a baby by a letter or a number, you distance yourself from caring about his or her life. Distance creates apathy and apathy allows injustice to continue. So we left the hospital with “babies a, b, and c” and took them home to a new life. The baby I carried home was named Jim (after Jim Krill and Jim Powers), the only girl baby was named Melissa (in honor of nurse and Rock the Baby Team Member Melissa Bart/Dennis), and the last baby was named Stuart. They’re all off to a great start in their new home and beds in the Intensive Care Unit.
One more thing about the hospital situation before I move on to lighter things – in the same room with the abandoned babies were three abandoned children with cerebral palsy. They were the size of 3 or 4 year olds. They’d been growing in their hospital beds like vegetables since their birth and abandonment. There are apparently no facilities for disabled or special-needs children here in Kenya. One child would not stop crying. I spoke to another child, named Ruth (my strong and loving Grandmother’s name), whose front teeth were rotting and whose mouth was filled with sores, whose body is never touched or loved except during diaper changes. What do you do with human suffering? Why is it so? Let’s intervene. Let’s do something.
Africa teaches and speaks through her moans and groans, through her tears and songs. I’m learning a lot. I’ve learned that it’s hard to break babies. This is a good thing, since i’m not always graceful – especially when they projectile vomit on you or yank your hair like little cavemen! At first I thought I’d break them if I held them a certain way, but they’re really quite durable and sturdy. Especially these babies here. They’ve been through it.
I’ve learned that faster is not necessarily better. I felt like pulling my hair out over the speed of the internet connection and the suddenly slow functioning of my personal laptop - it’s become Kenyan and moves poly-poly (slowly-slowly). But someone sent me this verse and it’s taught me a lot:
“Better one handful with tranquility
than two handfuls with toil and chasing after the wind.” Ecclesiastes 4:6
Less with peace is better than more with striving. So here’s to dial-up and to patience and to waiting. Thanks for praying and listening. I love hearing from you all!
Kwaheri (Bye) for now,
janay
“I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all communities and (nations).
I cannot sit idly by … Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.
We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.
Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”
- Martin Luther King Jr. in Why We Can’t Wait (italics mine)
In Africa…
“Justice is driven back,
and righteousness stands at a distance;
truth has stumbled in the streets,
honesty cannot enter.
Truth is nowhere to be found,
and whoever shuns evil becomes a prey.
The Lord looked and was displeased
that there was no justice.
He saw that there was no one,
He was appalled that there was no one to intervene;
so His own arm worked salvation…” (Isaiah 59:14-16)
January 31, 2007
Jambo (Hello) from Africa!
Habari? (How is everyone?) I’m finally beginning to get settled into my new life for the next 5 ½ months. The team from Thousand Oaks just left after a whirlwind of activity. We spent most of our days rocking babies, wiping up spit up, chasing toddlers, and bottle feeding infants. We also managed to drive out to the Masai Mara to visit a medical clinic which treats the Masai tribal people.
I was feeling a little bit nervous about this whole next venture until I stepped inside the gates of the New Life Homes (NLH). This place is refuge, sanctuary. A garden of eden in the midst of chaos. While the team was here, we stayed in a small guest house about 100 feet from the NLH. And now that the team is gone, I’ve begun to move into the guest house on the compound. It’s about 500 square feet total with a small kitchen (fridge, sink, stovetop) and small bathroom. I feel like I’m in college again moving into my dorm room. It’s clean, bright, and more than adequate. Once I plugged in my laptop and ipod, I was a happy girl! (And some of you might be wondering – there’s no T.V.! I’ll be completely detoxed from T.V. by the time I leave here. It’s actually a blessing, it leaves more room for thought and prayer.)
Today, I went with Anne Marie (the NLH director) to Nairobi Chapel for Sunday services. And guess what? They need volunteers in Children’s Ministry here, too! (Guess it’s a worldwide phenomenon). So I offered to help. I ended up observing in a classroom full of 4-year olds. Jan, the Children’s Ministry Director had told me that there is a need in this age group because “the teacher is not well.” As I sat and observed this teacher named Joy doing her best to tell the story of Jesus healing the blind man with His mixture of mud and spit, I couldn’t help but marvel. This woman, Joy, was obviously dying of AIDS. And the disease was taking full course. She was thin as a rail, nose running, and yet still teaching. I was amazed at her strength and her courage. Joy had a baby on her hip – a baby she would one day soon, have to leave. I came home to my house and cried. AIDS is the thief in the night here. AIDS is creating a teacher shortage, a parent shortage, a human shortage here. Today, AIDS had a face, and she was volunteering in children’s ministry despite her weakness, despite her sickness, despite her death sentence. I am so blessed to meet people such as Joy. They give my life perspective.
I feel at times lonely and confined to this compound, but then God reminds me to step outside my front door and there’s plenty of love to go around. My front door opens to a large grassy area where toddlers and babies can be seen running around in swimsuits (if the day is hot and they’re “swimming”) or kicking balls, or falling down and crying. The minute you step onto the grass, you’ll be greeted by little arms around your legs and a demand, “Pick me up! Up!” There are 53 babies here in the Nairobi home. They are divided according to developmental stages. There are teeny-weenies (my name for the babies I’m afraid I might break when I pick them up) in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) who are new arrivals from the police, the streets, or the hospitals (which do more harm than help). The ICU babies are severely underweight and in need of a lot of special attention. And then there’s the Special Care Unit – where the babies are who’ve just graduated from ICU. Then there are the Crawlers who are beginning to develop baby skills and lastly there are the Toddlers who are walking, talking (just barely), and learning the universal – “No!” Right now there’s a lack of prospective families looking to adopt these children, which means that NLH is at an unhealthy standstill – unable to take in new ICU children (from 0-3 months) until some others move on. Pray for new families for these children!
Every child here has a story. Some of the children arrive here with “bed sores” on their heels and feet from neglect. They’ve been left lying somewhere for so long that their flesh has begun to rot. But now they’re here – they’ve been rescued – and they can begin to be restored. Some of you (especially CCTO people and SonTime kids) will remember Baby Erica. She was basically our “poster child” for the Acts 1:8 campaign. Remember how she was so starving that she sucked on her little fist for nourishment until she created a hole beneath her lower lip? Well, now she’s a healthy and relatively happy baby! And she’s getting adopted! How cool is that? But there are so many more just like baby Erica. To paraphrase Julie Tucker, one of the Rock the Baby Team members – I’m so grateful for this place and for what they’re doing for all of these children, but I can’t help but think about all of the children who aren’t here. What about those children?
I love and miss all of you. I have an extra bed here in case anyone wants to come visit! I know I’ll be in Nairobi for most of May and June…
Much Love,
janay
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
