Asante Sana God!

Seeing as how my sleeping patterns are beautifuly ruined what with me waking up at 7 am bright and early only to fall back asleep at 9 am and wake up at dinnertime to find that I was not hungry at all (which is extremely strange in and of itself, the fact that I was not hungry) and how today I am wide awake at the glorious time of 6:20 am, happily munching away on an enormous bag of Honey Nut Cheerios, which my dad informs me lowers cholesterol and therefore is the best cereal in the world, I decided that I should probably blog, watch some television, complete my very very large pile of summer homework, or go running to get back in shape. Which, I also decided, I would do in that very order, with the possible exception of running, seeing as how since returning from Kenya I have only eaten Cheerios and a spoonful of rice and snow peas, which, much to my mom and my dismay, my dad insisted was edamame and would only eat the little beans inside. But to get back on topic, I wanted especially to blog about the orphanage/school in Nakuru, because the experience touched me, making me very happy but also sad because it was our last day of ministry.

Before arriving at the orphanage, we were trying to decide whether to do the drama because none of us had brought our costumes (except Jesse - way to go!). We decided to do it anyway because, as we had learned before, it was not about doing the drama perfectly with all the props - it was about how God would use the drama to touch other people's lives.

Right before the concert, we were frantically making the signs at the same time while making salvation bracelets for all the children. Eventually it was time to go inside and begin the worship concert, but somehow I got stuck outside making at least twenty more salvation bracelets while trying to explain what the colors meant, which I'm almost sure none of them really understood what I was saying. I would finish one bracelet for the child that was left out of the craft, only to turn around and see five more children walking through the gates into the compound without bracelets.

Stressed out as I already was, I was extremely sad to discover about an hour later that I had been explaining the colors all wrong! I forgot what yellow was, so I told everyone that they were humans, and that we sinned (that was black - I got that one right thank goodness). Red for Jesus' blood and white for purity I also got right, but I forgot what blue was so I told them that it was Heaven, and finished off the tale with green for Eternal Life (which I also made up, but yay that was right too).

But anyways, after the worship concert (where I just want to add that Bekah, your testimony was beautiful), it was time to do the drama (but I also want to add that during the concert while Daniel was drumming, he accidentally flung his drumstick into who knows where and he had the most hilarious look of surprise on his face that I ended up laughing so hard I'm almost sure tears sprung, which was when I remembered that I was supposed to be djembe-ing) (but good job playing the drums Daniel!).

And back to the drama... Everything was backwards though... which stressed me out even more. Dan, however, stepped into the role of Greed and was pretty much perfect. Hats off to you!

When we finally finished the drama, I felt emotionally spent. I could hardly breathe and my head was spinning. Everyone else went inside to listen Trenton's message but I stayed outside, hugging the wooden pole for support. Normally I would have ignored whatever was bothering me and gone in with the rest of the group, but I could not bring myself to let go of that pole. Looking back, I believe God wanted me to stay out there, and so I did.

As I stood, grasping that pole like it was my life, one of the girls on the worship team, Brenda, approached me. She caught me by surprise and reached out to hold my hand. Immediately I could breathe again and my head returned to normal, but that pole was still firm in my grips. Brenda told me that the drama was very beautiful and that it touched her heart. I almost cried with happiness. She asked me if I was an actress, to which I replied by laughing, and then realizing how that might appear rude, I quickly explained that it was my first time ever doing anything like that. Praise God, I almost yelled out loud. He used a thousand imperfections to create an imperfect drama that would still reach the people He wanted to touch using His power.

We talked for what seemed like eternity, until the other two girls on the worship team, Maureen and Sharon, came to tell me how much they loved the worship and drama. Soon we were all laughing and talking like best friends who hadn't seen each other in a very long time. They taught me how to make chapati (one of those do-not-try-at-home recipies), told me about their lives, and what they wanted for the future. I told them about my life, about the team, and about snow and snowball fights - a conversation that ended with them wondering why anyone in their right mind would want play a game where the object was to hit other people with balls of snow while trying not to get hit themselves.

Through all the laughter and bonding (not bondage), the girls encouraged me so much. They made me repeat, "Practice makes perfect" at least a hundred times (probably because they were serious about me being an actress). I also encouraged them, talking about my faith and how I loved God.

After a time, I was talking just to Brenda again, who showed me the rest of the compound. By this time I had finally released that pole, though only because I had to if I was going to walk around with Brenda. When she tld me that they had waited for us since Monday morning (it was a Tuesday afternoon), my heart broke. We were all enjoying our safari, looking out for animals, mions, brhinos, basically goofing around. Brenda told me that they had waited Monday afternoon for us to come. I could hardly breathe again. Finally, Brenda said, they had waited Tuesday morning, wondering if we would ever show up. I couldn't stand it! That morning we were lounging about, worrying about our questionable living quarters, and eating slowly, while the children of Nakuru were patiently awating the visitors they were so excited to receive.

I apologized at least a thousand times, but Brenda would not accept any. She said that she and everyone else was so happy that we had come in the first place, and that all that waiting was worthwhile. "Better late than never!" Brenda said, smiling. Which, of course, just broke my heart even more.

We eventually did go back in, and I ended up sitting next to another girl, who I ended up giving my own salvation bracelet away to, which I again explained poorly. She looked happy though, and I trust that God will explain to her what the colors really mean.

After my bonding with the girls, I felt so elated. That elation manifested in me playing a number of unknown games with the rest of the children, holding hands and laughing hard. One of their games involved some intense dance moves that Bekah and I tried to imitate, causing roars of laughter.

That last day was wonderful to me. I don't ever remember being so happy. I just want to praise God for everything.

But I don't really want to finish this blog because that will mean I have to start my homework...

To end, I suppose, I just want to thank everybody for what each person brought to the team. You guys mean so much to me and I will never forget any of you.

But before I really end, I wanted to tell everyone my story of pre-Kenya. Back in March-ish (it might have been April or May or maybe even February), after I thought I had officially agreed to be a part of the Kenya 2009 team, my parents decided that I would not be able to go. News had recently broken out about pirates and kidnappings on the coast and my mom decided that my safety came first.

When she told me I would not be a part of the team, I choked. I cried straight for a week. One night I went up to my rooftop and cried there for hours, which resulted in my parents thinking that I had run away, both of them driving to every place they thought I might go.

I felt eternally heartbroken, and can't remember ever having cried to much in my life. Every part of me hurt as I imagined having to cancel, imagined myself at home hearing about everyone's time in Kenya, imagining the children and people in Africa that I longed to give love to. I thought that life would not go on (which is silly, but that is really how I felt).

I couldn't face my parents though. God and Christianity were not things we generally talked about. I prayed that my mom would change her mind, I prayed for a miracle. I spent hours on the computer, researching about the dangers of Kenya, compiling a sort of statistical booklet for my parents. Which all resulted in me, coming home one night from SYTE, amazed that I hadn't crashed because I was crying the entire drive home, resolved to talk to my mom about Kenya.

The conversation is a bit (ok it really really really is) too emotional for me to write out, but it was pretty much a wonderful time of bonding, understanding, and lots of tears and tissues, resulting in an eventual, "Fine, If God really wants you to go, you can go, as long as you promise to wear lots of sunscreen."

I am so grateful to God, and my parents, that I was able to go to Kenya with you all. I am so glad that I stood up and argued for this instead of obeying my parents (ha ha). Not to say that you should disobey your parents. Anyways, usually when my parents say "no," it is a definite "no" and I know I can't do anything about it. I can't even express how happy I am that I didn't let this particular "no" be a definite one, and all I can say is that I really see now how God uses the weak and transforms them with His power to do things way way way way way out of their comfort zone. Thank you again, team, for being my family in Christ.

Love,

Kristine

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

What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet... but if I were to pick another name it would sound just like mine

Kenya!!!!!!!!! I just don't know where to start. I feel like I have been here for a very long time, even though we only landed this morning. And just to surprise me even further, God showed me a new side of myself I never knew existed. We visited the Halfway House, an orphanage for little babies in need of love and care. A baby girl had just arrived that morning, and after holding her and looking into her beautiful brown eyes, I fell in love. Within minutes she fell asleep in my arms, her sleeping face formed into a peaceful smile. She was absolutely precious. This was the first time I had ever held a baby for such a long time, but now that I'm here, typing this blog, all I want to do is be back at the orphange, holding that baby girl again. God revealed to me today a great love, and I am so thankful that He has done so. I prayed over the little girl, whispering to her that God loved her, and always will love her no matter what.

The entire time I was with the girl I never knew her name. Well, that was mostly because she had no name yet. Anna suggested that she be called Christine, and I certainly hope that will be her name. Christine with a "Ch" though, not with a "K," like my name. Christine has the word "Christ" in it and I think it would be fitting for the baby angel in the light pink blanket.

I have never loved or hated my name, always meeting it with indifference. But I can't help wishing that the beautiful girl will share the same name with me. I know that it is through God's hands that we were brought together today and I pray that God will bless her life as He has blessed mine.

-Kristine Fu