Kibera Kronicles #4

It has been a crazy few months for me so again I apologize for not writing but know that I continue to need your prayer support. Your prayers have help in more ways than you can ever imagine from food poisoning; good-byes to FYMs; staffing changes; getting lost in a not to great area of Kiberia and God sending Pastor Wycliffe to rescue me; and below are just a few other things I have encountered these past few weeks.

 

I worked with a medical team for two weeks the end of April and first of May. They did a medical clinic at New Adventure School which was a crazy two days. There were more people there needing help than we had time to see and many of the people on the medical team were first timers. They had never even been out of the States and were unprepared for the magnitude of the problem or the conditions that they would be working in. It was difficult as I quickly realized they wouldn’t have time to see all of “my” 350 kids. There were, however, many they were able to see that were desperately in need of help. They saw everything from typical colds to bronchitis to life threatening situations beyond our ability to help. It was interesting to see Kibera again through their eyes and to explain what life is like here.

 

We then went up north of town to Githurai to do a clinic there. The difference from Kibera to Githurai is stark. The compound was full of grass and though the people were fewer in number they were not less needy of the medical care. I met a woman, Sarah, who had 6 kids and no means of income. She couldn’t figure out why her youngest, at 8 months old, couldn’t sit up. Kristen, one of the nurses on the team who specializes in babies, and I took one look and realized that the baby was likely suffering from Downs Syndrome. There was no way to explain to her the profound effect this would have on her child or the special challenges she would face. Kristen tried to explain that this baby would take longer to grow up and acquainted her with Margaret who runs the clinic across the street from Life Care Ministries where we had set up. But it was hard to look Sarah in the face and tell her there was nothing we could really do to help her small child or her difficult circumstances.

 

When we returned from Githurai they check up on all the orphans. I felt like the nervous mother taking her kids to the doctor, praying that nothing was wrong but wanting them to find out if there was something . . . multiply that by 13 and you’ll get a picture of where I was. I was standing in the middle of the courtyard walking from room to room and writing notes of what each child needed. We found that they all need to be de-wormed (I starting them on a three month cycle for that) which is pretty much required here for all kids. We also found that one most likely has asthma and a few others have symptoms to be watched. We also found another girl seemed to need glasses but when Alysha (FYM helping me out) took her in to the doctor they found she has perfect vision – now I am praying and trying to figure out how to respond. She is so convinced that she can’t see and that her grades are suffering but I don’t want to yield to unnecessary requests either. Pray that I have the wisdom of dealing with this situation and the cries for help that come, unspoken, with it.

 

Next stop was Eburru. Eburru is in the mountains around the Rift Valley northwest of here near Naivasha. It is a breath-takingly beautiful area that is only accessed by this really sketchy road. I have never driven a matatu over such roads so I succeeded in overheating it and causing us to have to add more water half way up the mountain. The Eburru area is so remote and so destitute. Where we camped over looks the Rift Valley and it’s amazingly beautiful. The people are so warm and friendly, but it’s impossible to not be moved by their plight. Water there is created from steam as it is a volcanic area. It takes 24 hours to generate 5 gallons of water from steam, if the steam is consistent. The water is sold for 22 shillings a gallon – or about $0.35. They have to buy water to bathe, wash clothes, cook and drink. They are mostly farm laborers who make 70 Ksh a day wages – or about $1.00 – and that work is not consistent. This causes crippling malnutrition, dehydration and poverty. During our Open Air on Sunday I sat in the middle of the town square (a really loose explanation of this small group of 2 dozen shacks/stores around an open dirt area) and was playing with and holding 2 little 2 year old girls. Mary was bright and happy and smiling and well cared for and the other little girl was serious, thin, painfully quiet and nearly catatonic. After a half an hour I gave Mary back to her sister to concentrate on the other child. I held her, sang and played with her for nearly an hour and a half and couldn’t get her to crack a smile, talk or do anything but look painfully into my eyes seemingly pleading for help. She kept smacking her lips so I went and found her water – she drank all I could give her – I found a couple small cookies and fed them to her and she scarfed them down. Time came to leave and I tried to find her family. Eventually a girl came over and took her hand and I went back to the team – my heart broken because there wasn’t more that I could do. I was gathering the team into the van when I noticed that there was tugging on my skirt and turned to find she was back at my side. I knelt down and hugged her and the older girl re-appeared and drug her away screaming. I swallowed the tears and busied myself with leaving but my heart will never forget the face of this tiny, helpless little nameless girl who so desperately wanted love.

 

On May 8th I walked two street boys to school to get them set up for the first time this year. They were sooooo excited. Michelle (FYM Spring 06) and I paid for their tuition and bought their uniforms and school supplies. Joseph, the younger one, was walking right on top of Michelle and was clearly soooo excited and Francis, the older one, walked on the other side of the road (didn’t want to telegraph he was walking to school) tried to be more reserved until you asked him something or saw the ear to ear grin. Sooo Funny. I wish you could have been there when I went to the school a few weeks later to show some new people around. We walked by the St. 7 room and all the sudden a movement catches my eye. Little Joseph is sitting in the front row waving his heart out to get my attention. I stepped to the door to say hi to the rest of them and Francis does the cool head tilt, eyebrow raise, and big smile that lets me know he’s glad I’m there without looking “uncool” in front of the rest of them. Mr. Evans sees us and shows us through all three of those rooms and then takes us over to the other side where the rest of the classes are. We stopped in St. 1 and they sang us a song – so stinking cute. Then we sat with Mr. Evans in the teachers area as he explained the school to them. Josephine (St. 7 teacher) walked through and I stopped her to ask how the boys were doing and she said that they were doing great but didn’t expand. I looked back to Mr. Evans and he asked which boys I was asking about and I said Francis and Joseph and explained that I was the one who brought them. He said, “Those boys are doing so well. Not only are they top of their class in Math and Science but they are so respectful and obedient. I tell the rest of the students that they need to look up to them and follow their example. I also told the boy who has been head of that class for many years that he should watch himself because now he has very strong competition and if he doesn’t work hard he won’t be top of the class much longer.” So. They are doing great. Every time I see Francis (Joseph doesn’t come by the cul-de-sac as much) I ask him about school and he just grins from ear to ear and says “good!”

 

Sometimes in the hard stuff here it’s easy to loose sight of the good stuff. If I didn’t have these I think I’d die of frustration. But these are the little glimpses I get of what we are accomplishing and how we are able to make a difference in the lives of these kids. Until next time keep praying.

 

His,
Denise