The Journey-Ch.8

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There is something that doesn’t feel quite right as I sit in my house in Nairobi, Kenya with my little electric heater blowing warm air onto me while I am dressed like it is October in West Virginia. What happened to the Kenya that I imagined that would leave me sweating and wishing for an air conditioner?

Maybe the imagining part is where I went wrong. I imagined I would live here and serve orphans and see sunny skies each day along the way. The weather changes just as the moods and scenes do, with frequency.

Time and events seem to pile into a jumbled heap as the days speed by. I am a lucky girl who gets to go to America annually and escape the pressures of African life. It is bliss having leisure time in America…I enjoy socializing, talking on the phone when I want because it is way cheaper in the states to talk on the phone than here, sitting on carpeted floor and being surrounded by cleanliness and order.

It doesn’t take long to notice the difference of life and pace and just about everything else. In fact, just arriving at the airport in Nairobi this time was a thrill. As I exited the arrival gate I saw about 300 people of the Masai tribe awaiting their political leader. Some were dressed in their traditional garb of brightly colored togas. Reds, blues, oranges and yellows; stripes, flowers or checked designs all mixed together. It was an extravaganza of color that was like dessert for the eyes. The women, many with shaved heads, were adorned by brightly colored beads that hung around their necks and from the many holes in their earlobes. In unison the 300 people sang songs that filled the airport and floated through the parking lot. Even though their welcome was not for me it was a reminder of how blessed I am to be here…

I need reminders like that from time to time. For example, when I realize that everyone would like to charge me 3x’s the normal rate for something because I am white. Or recently when I got a washing machine and I was SOOOO excited about it only to find out that it takes a good hour and a half for a load to wash…if I am “lucky” enough for the power to stay on for that long. If it flips off every fifteen minutes as it has a habit of doing (here in the city) then I must go out and restart the machine each time. I almost think hand washing would be faster but I will suffer through and go push the button each time the lights flick off and on. It is way easier on the hands.

The blessings flowed a few weeks ago as we had an amazing short term missions team with us for two weeks. They came with Jane, the founder of IAA, from various parts of the USA and melted into one big family for the time they were here. They got a taste of the Kenyan life, some of the food, the illness, the poverty, the joy and the animals. All around it was great and it was also very moving.

As we traveled back miles and miles of winding and muddy roads passing the men and women working in rice paddies with mud up to their thighs and past the rows of cornfields in our vans to reach the villages we did not know what to expect. We knew there were some church leaders that were anticipating our arrival so that we could work with the village folks for a day. What we came upon were welcoming committees consisting of men, women and children; young and old. The church people of the first village had an area set up for us to sit among them. They had rickety wooden benches where they sat under the shade of an acacia tree. The hot sun of Western Kenya can fry the whites like butter on a sidewalk so they allowed us to be in the shade of the trees as well. The children were sitting on a tarp on the ground. Behind them was their place of worship…a mud hut that they call church. Even though there was no carpet…or facilities, or anything but a few benches that they call pews the people meet faithfully. In front of the adults were benches with cushions for the “visitors”. Talk about feeling out of place…we sat on cushions while the elderly of the community sat on benches that looked like scraps of trees that could have been nailed together that very morning. We would have all gladly traded places but in this culture guests are treated with respect, and if you deny the respect given you are in fact disrespecting them. It especially felt odd to receive cold sodas and have to drink them in front of the 60 or so children in front of us….many of them orphans. Many of them that may never get such treat as a cold coke.

The events were soon underway and after introductions one of our men preached about a 45 minutes sermon. The kids sat on the ground and the adults sat on their hard benches and it was evident that this was totally normal. We then broke off into groups to have medical care, children’s ministry, and men and women’s ministry separately. I went with a friend of mine to share the Word of God with a group of women. We got to meet in the church. The men carried the benches inside and the women carried themselves and their babies inside. Beth and I stood by the door so we could be in the natural light. The inside of a mud hut isn’t very well lit and cast a dark shadow on everything so you have to keep the doors open so you can see each other.

We proceeded with the message and our time was an eye opener and a cultural shock for both us and them…after Beth and I shared the ladies had an opportunity to ask questions. One older lady on the front row raised her hand and with the help of a translator asked, “How can a women be saved if she wears pants and doesn’t cover her head?”. At this point my eyes scanned the area and I came to the realization that 100% of the women had dresses on and scarves on their pretty heads. I explained to them that we must know the culture in which scriptures were written and in Bible days women that wore pants were usually prostitutes (I was sweating and searching my memory and I thought I remembered one of my Bible professors saying that….) and that salvation comes through Jesus…not lack of jeans, etc. The woman simply stated something to the effect of…”Here it is like that too…the women who wear pants are prostitutes”. Uh hum….Beth and I were both in jeans and our heads were in plain site for them and God alike to see. All was not lost as we continued to communicate and the woman left with a smile. Before she left she came and smiled and shook my hand then said something in her language. My translator told me the woman now felt better and now understood us better. I had a feeling that what she was really saying was, “Get these white hookers out of our village!”. I may never know.

Out of all the travels and ministry I have to say that the medical care was the most heartbreaking…or should I say, lack of medical care. A few of our friends set up a medical site where they were cleaning wounds (scraping cow manure out of some of them), treating scabies, administering antibiotics and other things. We saw that the orphan kids that are being cared for by the community were in the most need. There was one cute boy around age 11 that shocked us when we saw the side of his face swollen like a softball. We found out that he had an abscessed tooth and had never been to a dentist. Just to open his mouth a little brought grueling pain and a tear that slid down his cheek.

We had the opportunity to walk into local homes and pray with the local villagers and it was amazing. There is such desperation and pain in so many hearts as death is as common as birth and hunger as prevalent as daylight. The people would welcome us into their mud homes, and offer us a seat on their wooden benches. The children (many of them naked) would look at us wide eyed as it is a rare thing to see a mzungu (white person). They would then tell us what they would like prayer for. We would gather in a circle and lift our prayers, in different languages, to the same Loving God. Afterwards we would take pictures of the family…then show them on our digital camera. This was the best as we would turn the camera around, they would peer into the screen and their eyes would grow huge as gigantic smiles spread across their faces. The adults would giggle as much as the children at the fascination of seeing themselves. Needless to say, vanity is not a common problem as most people in the village do not own a mirror. Their smiles and elation were priceless.

I used to think that someday God would send me to the really hard places. On this trip I decided I am already here. There are gaping wounds not only physically but also spiritually and emotionally. However, God has not forgotten these people. If it takes Him sending a team of Americans to a village that seems lost from civilization to let the people know there is hope, then God will do just that.

I read something recently that struck a chord…see if you feel it:

“Scripture mentions the importance of caring for these individuals (orphans, widows and foreigners) more than sixty times! Clearly, the protection and well-being of this group are one of God’s great and constant concerns. So much so, in fact, He actually defines Who He is by His promises to them. Consider His promise to provide:

‘ A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in His holy habitation. God sets the solitary in families; He brings out those who are bound into prosperity. (Psalm 68:5-6)” (Fields of the Fatherless, C. Thomas Davis; pg. 27).

There is a five-year-old beautiful child named Beth in our village that is the size of an eight month old. She has some muscular disease and in her five years has never had therapy. Another volunteer, Sherri, from the states that is staying with us just happens to be a professional therapist. Beth and Sherri have become friends and Beth’s parents have great hope as they see her respond to therapy. They had stated only days before they met Sherri that they have prayed for five years for help…help has arrived.

We have many volunteers that come through and all have been vessels that have carried the precious ointment of the Holy Spirit and we have many people back home who send support, making all of this ministry possible. When the ointment is poured out in the form of generosity and encouragement it fills the air with the aroma of Hope. There are not many fragrances as sweet as that! We have other volunteers that share peace and laughter that add to the richness of the fragrance. The great thing is that the hope is not only for those who were born here but also for those of us that work here. I have to say Thank You to all of you!

House of Hope Orphanage- I got to spend a night with the 15 orphans that live there and meet the other 30 orphans they feed each day. They were thrilled to receive soccer balls and other gifts from IAA. They may not have running water but they have a soccer ball now and they are quite ecstatic about it! Now they need a milk cow so they can have milk each day. A cow cost around $800…8 months salary for many here. If you have some extra change laying around and would like to help to get a cow for the kids it would be a tremendous help for the directors of the orphanage and a great gift for the kids.

Into Abba’s Arms Orphanage- We’ve found a contractor and the plans are ready for the baby dorm! Woo Hoo! Our first installment will be as soon as we get a contract and then we get to break ground. We are planning for finishing teams for next year that can come to paint, lay tile, and get the place ready for our first arrivals.

IAA Kids- Our kids are wonderful and amazing and happy and are valuable treasures that we adore. If anyone needs their love bank filled up all it takes is hanging out with our kids for the day.

Thanks again to all that spread hope to those in need. There is no greater job nor joy in life than being the heart of Jesus to others.

Much appreciation and Love- Jennifer

If you would like to donate towards a milk cow, the baby dorm, education fund or simply to help meet the needs of our kids you can earmark your tax-deductible donation to:

ITHM
23223 S. Warmstone Way
Katy, TX
77494

*IAA supporters please continue to make your donations payable to IAA.

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