Asante sana squash banana!

What a wonderful past few days! Walking through the slums is truly an experience, to say the least. At the Komido school, we all hiked up the (very, very, very fragile-looking) stairs (with no railings) up to the highest point. Looking out, we could see the surrounding homes, a mass of metal rooftops cramped together in a neverending horizon. Our guide through the kwangjanga slums, asked me, “Have you ever seen anything like this before?” I could honestly answer her that I never had.

But it wasn’t so much the vastness of the poverty of over one hundred thousand Kenyans in just that one slum that was heartbreaking, it was the children who never lost the smiles on their happy faces, thankful for the smallest thing they had in the world.

My favorite girl was named Kristen. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, caring for her little sister, Faith. And now because I’m writing this blog about 5 days later I can’t remember anything else and am going to just move on to the next day.

A bunch of days go inbetween here…

The Farm. Probably my favorite place, besides the Halfway House where I met the love of my life (sort of, haha). It was such a refresher to be communicating and connecting with people my age who could understand what I was saying. Truth be told, the “planting trees” part in the morning, which, incidentally, involved no planting of trees whatsoever, was almost torturous. The heat combined with bending down with my not-so-amazing-back to pick up dead grass and attempt to beat off the dried mud left me dizzy and lightheaded. Barb took pictures of Dakota and I for “proof” that Mercer Island girls actually do work. Which is such a silly stereotype, haha. I’m pretty sure I rejoiced when Larry Conway called out, “Lunchtime!”

I walked back with a lovely girl of 17 named Mary, who had a sister named Christine. She told me that she was learning how to be a tailor, but aspired to work in the salon. She explained to me how the Farm worked, and I was amazed to hear the schedule.

Perhaps I should have begun explaining how The Farm works. The teenagers at the Farm were originally children on the streets. They knew only a life of animal survival, struggling just to live each day. Many of them were involved in violence, drugs, and other horrible experiences. After being recruited to The Farm, these teenagers are taught the regular school subjects like math, reading, English, and history. In addition, they study their vocational occupation for their future after they leave The Farm.

Mary told me that they studied seven days a week because they had to fit eight missed years of learning into as little time as possible before they turned eighteen. On Sundays, they attended church and were taught to love Jesus and follow Him. Each and every boy and girl there had their own story and history of hardships on the streets, but when asked to tell their story, they wanted only to talk about their plans for the future. This brought tears of happiness and amazement to my eyes – these kids were moving on from their previous life, changed by the love of Jesus.

After eating lunch with Mary and her friends, one boy wrote me a dictionary of Swahili, which I am sure will treasure forever. They laughed when Bekah tried to say, “Praise God” in Swahili, though. I love you Bekah, haha. After that we performed the usual worship concert, and after that, we performed our drama.

The night before, we had practiced for many hours, trying to get the timing exactly right. But when it came time to actually do the drama, we were met with an unexpected challenge. Our Jesus robe was lost, and so was the toy gun and all of our signs. We started to freak out, frantically searching for the lost props while trying to stall the kids as long as we could. Still, I felt a certain calm. I knew that despite the challenges, we would still be able to do our drama, and it would touch whoever God wanted it to touch. It was all in His hands. It was a humbling experience, knowing that everything we had worked so hard for the night before was ruined, but it reminded us that the props weren’t as important as the message we were trying to send.

Turns out, God does miracles. We found the signs last minute, and the Jesus robe and the toy gun followed shortly after. I found out later that we reached at least one person, and if he was the only one, the entire drama and hours of practice were worth it. Even the huge purple and blue bruise on my left knee from falling so much was worth it.

And last but not least of the day, Ultimate Ninja. ‘nuff said.

Today (much to the happiness of my dad, I am very sure), Dakota and I got to help out at the Dental clinic with Mike, fully dressed in the most glorious scrubs, of course. We didn’t really get to do anything special, except hold the light and clean the dental instruments of course. But it was an amazing experience nonetheless, getting to witness the dental process firsthand, because after all, when we all go to the dentist, we never actually get to see what is going on in those mouths of ours.

Watching some of the Kenyans get their teeth removed was more encouraging and amazing than I ever imagined it to be. Of course, before getting teeth extracted, they needed to be injected with anesthetics. Still, it was very blatantly obvious that they could still feel the pain. But the Africans are tough. One woman had a very decayed wisdom tooth that was bothering her. As Cindy and Mike tried to pry out the bad tooth, she never budged or said a word, even though there were tears streaming down her face. When we asked if she was in pain, she always resolutely answered, “No.” Her strength and determination inspire me. And miraculously, after all the blood and staring into people’s mouths all morning, I still want to be a dentist. Ha ha.

Last night we, the youth, decided that we wanted to have a talk with our parents (for the week). For the past few days we had been feeling uncomfortable and paranoid about what the wiser peoples of the team were saying about us. The uncertainty, combined with the unmistakable separation of youth and adults during dinner and bus rides made us think the worst – that we were being stereotyped into the troublemaking young teenagers that needed a maturity check.

That night, at the Hyodo house, Steven suggested that we confront our worries and, at the very least, clarify our feelings and try to bring a stronger feeling of unity of the team. When we returned to the Guest House, we had a meeting with the team and voiced our feelings and worries.

The meeting was the most amazing connection with each other yet. All week I had felt very self-conscious and afraid to be judged. But after telling our parents our concerns, they met us with respect and kindness. Long story short, the adults explained to us that they were only talking about how encouraging and wonderful youths we were in the trip, and how each one of us had an amazing gift that we brought to the team. We were always separated because they thought that the bonding we had with each other should be encouraged.

Ever since our talk I have felt a great weight lifted off me. I had been so focused on trying not to offend the adults that I was getting so tired and stressed out. But after the clarification I felt so elated again, like on the first day in Kenya. Even though I was physically tired and very sleepy and it was late at night, I was filled with energy and inspiration to do a whole night’s helpful work.

Today we visited Amani Ya Juu, the sewing ministry place. It was such a beautiful place, and I bought a pencil pouch. Today I spent so much money I can’t even try to think about it. We went to the New Life orphanage and played with children. The children there may or may not have HIV, but the caretakers do not reveal their health status to volunteers. One of the toddlers loved to repeat whatever I said. I made him say “Banana” and “Kristine” about 50 times, but then when Daniel tried to take a video of it, he refused to say a word! They were all very charming and they seemed very well cared for.

Afterward, much to the happiness of Dakota and I, we went back to the Maassai Market. I got even more stressed out than last time because haggling just drains my energy, but I am happy with what I bought and I probably thought I spent more money than I did because we were spending money in the hundreds (shillings).

And we just watched Lion King. Which, incidentally, is in Swahili. Or most of it is. Asante sana squash banana = thanks for the squash banana!

And really, I just want to give thanks to God for this entire trip and the relationships I have built with the Kenyan people and also for the relationships I have built with fellow members on our team.

And…. Sorry for this super long blog that nobody will want to read, but I was just sort of typing my entire trip on Steven’s computer and not uploading anything.

Love,
Kristine