SUPPORT THE KENYA CHILDREN PROJECT

$

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Safari njema...

I remember going back to my servant's quarters in Funguo Estate after visiting Jangwani and sobbing. That was over 3 years ago when I visited the community for the first time. I was crushed and overwhelmed that such places existed in a world which I had lived for nearly 24 years at the time. As I continued to go in and out of Jangwani, I began to realize that in order to be effective in dealing with the problem of extreme poverty and the devastating circumstances of people's lives, I was going to have to become slightly numb to my surroundings. This is not to say, I totally threw compassion out the window, but it is to say that I wouldn't let me self cry everytime I would go into Jangwani. It still broke my heart to see people suffering physically, socially and psychologically (spiritually would tie in at times as well), but it became "normal" enough to work through it.

For three years I have been writing emails and posting on this blog my experiences and the "life" of the Kenya Children Project. While I was often crushed and overwhelmed by the circumstances that I encountered in the lives of the children at the school and my brothers and sisters in Jangwani, I never cried. Tears filled my eyes at times, but I never cried. That has changed. I have seen some tough things over the past three years, particularly during my most recent time in Kenya. As I shared with you last time we have had dealings with the Mungiki gang, and then had some children really suffer with burns and breaks.

I was hosting one of our groups from the US, and we were having a difficult, but encouraging day. We briefly encountered Mungiki (not in a hostile way directed towards us), and then after visiting our skill training programs we went to hang out with the children and staff at the school. We were sharing some laughs and enjoying each other's company. Then I noticed a change in one of our staff after receiving a phone call. She left and came back, and something was wrong. Our home based care officer, Joyce, came in walking with a young child. At the oldest, the child looked to be six years old. I walked out of the office to find out what was going on. I was told this was Safari.

Safari is a 10 year old boy, then the next thing I was told was that he was HIV positive. He was born with the disease and had suffered with it all of his life. He had taken a great turn for the worse in the last 3 weeks. I was told Safari's mother, who has basically given up on him, has 6 children, at least 3 of which were born after she knew she was HIV positive. Safari's mother had been told to bring him to the school for our feeding program. His mother never brought him. He was on antiretroviral drugs, but had never been properly checked out by a doctor. The antiretroviral drugs don't always work, but in order to have the chance to be effective, nutrition is extremely important. Joyce had been visiting Safari, and checking in on him on a consistent basis, trying to be of help to him. When she went and noticed that he was not doing well and not being taken care of, she brought him to the school. One of our staff members provided some funds for milk and bread. As the milk was handed to Safari I sat down next to him and said hello. He glanced my way, but did not have much energy to give much of a response. As he drank the milk and ate the bread he was given, not only could I hear, but I could feel on the bench, the struggle to catch his breath. This boy was so ill it was a struggle to breathe. I actually just had to stop typing for a second, because it took me back to that moment and I began to cry again. That moment broke me...again...

Three years after I wept, God reminded me of the frailty of the human existence, and broke through my tough exterior to send me a reminder that I must continue to love his children, that I must pursue justice for his people. After Joyce returned from taking Safari back to his mother, overwhelmed by the situation, I asked our visiting group and staff to pray together on behalf of Safari. Bella prayed with passion and compassion, in a way that was expectant of God's intervention. Completely broken at this point with tears running down my cheeks, I looked up as we said a collective AMEN, and saw watery eyes and heard sniffles. In the midst of that sadness and frustration I was so encouraged by that moment. I was encouraged to be reminded of what an amazingly committed and compassionate staff we have at the school. I was encouraged that what breaks God's heart was breaking our hearts. We need to have our heart's broken by situations like Safari's. Often when we do not have a direct connection to someone we generally feel bad for them when they are suffering or going through a difficult time, but our heart's don't break. God's heart breaks for those who suffer, etc. and therefore our hearts should also break.

When I think I have God, poverty and suffering figured out I am reminded of how little I understand. I left that day encouraged by the response of our staff, etc. and encouraged by the fact that I could still cry, but I was so angry, frustrated and sad by the circumstance. I have reconciled a number of the tough situations, at least in my own mind, in Jangwani over the last 3+ years. I recognized that God has asked us to represent him on this earth and care for his children and that we are responsible for responding to the ways in which he leads us. Yet, in Safari's situation I continue struggle. I question God on how he could let a child who had no choice at all in being born, or in the decision of his mother to have sex knowing she was HIV positive, suffer. Safari was born into suffering and will likely die young suffering. I pin it on the fact that I cannot fully understand the way God works, and I can't explain God. We have to put faith in Him because of that, but Safari's situation is one that causes me to struggle.

God has provided in His impeccable timing in the midst of this struggle. A visitor who came in May and another visitor who was there in June and actually met Safari, within two days of one another gave me a significant amount of cash to be put towards the school. God revealing himself at the perfect time. Osteen, the little boy who broke his arm and was never treated that I spoke of in the last post, as well as Safari, the mother and a baby who both are HIV positive were able to be taken to the hospital with the funds left by these individuals. Osteen's story is one of encouragement. His arm is healing, though it will require surgery to permanently fix it, but that does not need to be done until he is older. Safari didn't have the encouraging outcome we were hoping for. When all of the tests, etc. that were done it was revealed that he now had tuberculosis as well as being HIV+. Tuberculosis is a very common cause of death in HIV patients. Fortunately, the social worker at the hospital was able to connect Safari's "family" with an organization that will cover all of the medical costs for individuals who suffer from HIV.

I entitled this post "Safari njema", because Safari in kiswahili means "journey". Throughout Kenya you often see signs that say "safari njema" which just means "safe journey". The irony of Safari's name haunts me in a way - journey. How do you describe the "journey" of a child who comes into the world to suffer, only knows suffering and goes out suffering. You certainly cannot describe it as safe. In the midst of this struggle, and this difficult journey, God remains in charge and redeems even the worst situations. It doesn't mean I can always make sense of it, and that I won't continue to question, but it is the reality of the situation. I know this was long, but I wanted to share that story with you. Keep Safari, our staff and children, as well as their families in your prayers. Blessings on you, and may your journey be one that is not safe, as we follow a God that is not safe. May your heart be broken by the things that break God's heart.