The Other Side of Mathare

Covering Thursday 13th, 2008

Romans 8:38
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Yesterday, I was laughing and playing with kids and teaching them about the love of Christ. We were back at Mathare and I was expecting the same formula. I was greatly mistaken. We would be experiencing life in the slums instead of just being in the sanctuary that is the Mathare school center. We would follow children directly to their homes. We would see the extensive route they had to walk to get to school and all the dangers on the way. I was with Sevo and Alex.

The children we followed were brother and sister. The boy was named Lawrence, he was eight years old and spoke few words. He reminded me of my brother. My Dad's name is Lawrence. The girl was eleven years old and her name was Laura. I don't know how to describe her-- maybe the image of peace, hope, or reverence. Both these children were angels and I was absolutely astounded. Laura is my aunt's name, my aunt is slightly older than my Dad-- strange coincidence.

I walked hand-in-hand with these two children as we made our way through the slums. Alex held Lawrence's hand. Sevo closely followed. The rest of our team was close as well. For most of the walk I and the children were silent. I didn't know what to say, and I felt words weren't necessary. It's not a place where you point something out and ask about it and so that stunts conversation considering you are surrounded by poverty and you are tempted to ask about a sign or something you've never seen. The girl pointed out a place where her family got meat, which was hanging in plain view. It was quiet, except for the background of this place.

I choked on my emotions. I imagined what my life would be like if I was here when I was eleven. I can't imagine facing adolescence here; I really can't. And that alone broke my heart. At one point, the girl looked up and smiled and said that I was very beautiful. She was fascinated by my hair; I had braided it that day. It intrigued a lot of the children that I could do this. But I was astounded that of all the things she thought and said was that I was beautiful; I of course told her that she was as well. I can't even begin to describe how much this caught me off guard while surrounded by poverty. I mean honestly, there was way more love in that girl's eyes than mine. There's no doubt in my mind that she knew God, and that she knew his voice distinctly and wasn't distracted by the depth of the world. Lawrence held my hand a whole lot tighter than his sister.

She took my sunglasses from me and wore them on her head. I did not expect that so many would be intrigued by my sunglasses.

A strange drunk man brushed his hand through one of our team member's hair. I didn't see this, but I heard about it later. I just saw him approaching the team. I thought he was going to do something to the kids. He grabbed my chin instead. I was going to punch him so it was a good thing the kids were holding my hands. But he instantly went away. Laura's face is what I remember more than anything. She was mad. It was like someone ruined a dream. She was mad, but she held it so well. She looked at him as if he was the scum of the earth, and nothing rings more radiantly than that coming from a child. It was quiet again. At some point, Laura stopped and looked into my face again. She held my hand with both of hers and said "I love you very much." I sincerely wanted to cry.

Where in the world was she finding these words?

I've heard many strange misinterpretations on love. I firmly believe that love is more than the simple opinion or urge that many have attempted to sell in their arguments and advertisements. I think we cut love to pieces and isolate some aspects from the whole reducing it of its whole true value. If anything, I learned on this day-- several times-- that love at first sight does in fact happen, even if it is not the way people have imagined it. I told this brave girl that I loved her too.

Alex asked me if I was impressed by their lengthy walk to school. It was more than I ever could have done when I was a kid. I don't think I loved school enough for such a feat. We were in the thick of the slums. The homes were just metal sheets that were put together as shelter. Laura was excited to be so close to home so she told me to run; I wasn't thinking because I somehow felt safe. For just a moment, I was ahead of the group. There were people outside cleaning. A man was working outside and his puppy was running circles in the open area. To get to their home, we had to cross the open sewage that was trailing all around the slums. At the time, I didn't know it was sewage. We had to go through a thin passageway to get to the children's home. There was a woman standing outside with a baby in her arms. She was standing in front of the children's house: she was their mother. We wiped off as much dirt from our shoes as possible.

We went inside their home and the kids hugged their mother. The baby she held was beautiful. She had beads in her full head of hair. I think she may have been a little older than Imani. Laura put my sunglasses on what I took to be a mantle. I can't remember all of the surroundings of the home.

There were some distinct memorable things. It was made into two rooms, separated by a whitish sheet. We did not see the other side, but the front room was made for sitting and gathering. We prayed for this family and blessed them. I don't remember much, except the girl was standing in front of me playing with the sunglasses-- when did she go back and get them?

We walked back to the school. I held Lawrence's hand on my left; Laura's on my right. I think this time I was even more quiet. I was definitely lost in all that had just happened. It was overwhelming. To be opened into a home so graciously, to be loved so dearly, to see so many sad things and wonder what I can do, to see so many dangers on a path to school, and to know that the boy on my left was so observant to it all was all incredibly overwhelming.

Once back at school, Lawrence ran off to play with other kids. Laura tried to give me my sunglasses back. I told her she should keep them. She tried again to give them back, and I told her she had to keep them and to keep them safe. She smiled from cheek to cheek. Then she hugged me and began playing some of the creative games these children played. Just as I was walking to the place where we held tea Eric stopped me. There were three girls staring wide eyed at me. He said these girls wanted to know if his hair was real. I then turned to these kids and said, "No way! You'll just have to touch his head." They just laughed at me. At first I thought maybe they didn't understand a word I just said.

I'm still amused that they were so curious about my hair and were having a hard time believing it was real.

I sat by Hos at tea time and retold him what happened during our walk in the slums. He instantly cried, and then it really hit me what I had just been through.

We then had an extremely long recess with the students in the football field. The older boy students played with several members of our team in an intense game of football. Then, there were a few of us who were playing old fashioned games. At first, I was only with a group of ten or so-- including Laura-- and then at one point I counted and there were over sixty kids playing with me. Sixty. Every time I turned around there were more kids running into our gigantic circle. Eventually, more circles were made, and some of the kids had a hard time playing with so many various ages. I have no idea how many kids there were total. We were all in a huge circle, and one child would run around and sing and dance and then pull out another kid and switch places. They thought it was funny to pick me, especially since half of what they were saying was unclear to me since it was in Swahili.

Then we played duck, duck goose. My group dwindled and I ended up playing with a group of fifteen or so for the rest of recess. I would say it was fourteen girls and one boy; he was quite the flirt. I think most of them were second graders. Every once in awhile they would play with my hair-- I'm not kidding, they could not get over it. They played this game where someone went around the circle and tried to chop your arm off!

Well, they pretended their arms were able to cut and they would try to inflict enough pain, or intimidate you, to make you let go of your partner's hand. If they couldn't break through they were out; if you let go you were out. There was a girl that was about four years old on my right. She held tight. The boy was on my left and he never broke either. Okay, granted I'm a bit older than them it still hurt when they hit. We sang songs forever. A lot of the girls that I sang with yesterday were there. They taught me songs, and every once in awhile I could speak Swahili fluently, not really I was just good at mimicking them. I had no idea what I was saying.

I taught them a couple of songs that I had learned in the ancient high school days-- choir songs that I could never completely quench from my head finally came in handy. They enjoyed those songs thoroughly, and they would add their own things like drum beats and whistles-- whistles? I was beginning to wonder how I could hide them in my suitcases. I had two big ones and a small carry-on, maybe I could fit the little girl from the day earlier in that one. We then watched the football game. I had no clue what was happening, but it was entertaining nonetheless because we started screaming at the top of our lungs and we made noises like Indians-- maybe to them that's not an Indian noise. (You wouldn't believe how much I debated over whether to use "Native Americans" instead of Indians.)

We then played more games. One of the girls pulled out a ball that she had made from materials that she found. Lance commented later on how cool it was that she made the ball from various materials and that he wanted it.

We ended up playing tug-of-war; except, there was no rope so we used ourselves. This was actually confusing to me at the time. All of a sudden I was playing London bridges and chanting things in Swahili as children were running around me in a circle. Alternately, whenever the girl and I would drop our arms to catch one of the kids we would make them go to one of the teams. They made chains behind us. Once a child was picked for a team he or she got behind the last person and wrapped his or her arms around the person's waist in front of them. Once all the children were on a team, the girl who made the ball would draw a line between the two sides. She would shout go, and then I and the girl in front of me would shake hands.

My first thought was "Oh no. I'm going to pull all these kids down and this is going to be terrible." We gripped each others hands and tried to pull them to the other side-- just like tug-of-war. The first time I victoriously lost. I'm pretty sure we all fell. But then my side won three times. Those girls were strong. When we were called back to the school hundreds of children screamed at the top of their lungs while they ran back. I wish I could describe to you all that happened more eloquently but words are failing me. Everything was so epic, and this was one of the first days I think being in Africa touched my heart. It was so much more than my words can describe.

I sat with all the girls I had just played with, but only for a moment. I took pictures of them on Isaac's camera-- he was into film just as much as I am. I'm not really sure where my camera was, maybe I left my regular camera back at Ufungamano. Anyway, these girls were so sweet and so unbelievably cool. I wish I could see them everyday of my life.

We passed out candy to every single student. I was unsure if we actually gave each child a piece of candy because they would hide the candy, and what made it feel awkward to me was that I ended up finishing out my bags of candy in the middle of one of the pews. We sat together as a team. I was sitting across from the girls. Sevo ended our stay with Mathare in prayer. He also had the boys who played football stand so he could recognize them for how well they played.

He also told them to keep working hard and that he ended up getting a football scholarship for college. As we said goodbye, the children blessed us by waving their arms towards us and shouting "God bless you." I was impressed by how proudly these girls live their lives. I said goodbye to them for the last time-- at least to my knowledge.

We went outside and prepared to leave. The children were going home so we tried to be with them for that last moment.

There were some girls that were about five years old that were trying to hide by blending in with a wall. They were trying to be close to us; maybe they were trying to sneak away with us. Either way, I tried to pretend I was hiding with them and they thought it was hysterical. Right before we left, I saw the little girl from yesterday who I carried all over the school. She was still all smiles. I patted her head then held her one last time. Then we headed for our next destination, an orphanage.

First, we had to clean off all the dust we had accumulated. My jeans that I wore there still have some stains from that day.

The team that was staying at the Ufungamano house were the first to go to this orphanage. I sat up with Brent in the van, and at some point I said, "Wow, this is going to be sad."
But Brent reassured me otherwise. "You might be surprised, they have it pretty good here."
We pulled into a gated area. Beyond those gated doors was one of the nicest facilities I had seen. I think at the front it said "Drop off hours 10-2." This place was hard on me. On arriving, there was a woman taking care of a child who was crying relentlessly. We entered the reception office and I put everything together.

We were in a baby adoption center. This was a place where people could give their baby away, drop them off, or if babies were found in trash cans or on the sides of roads they would be kept here. This place gave babies a chance at life. Wacey, Chrissy, April, and I were in the baby room. Each one of us entertained the babies in our own way.

I merely walked around the room taking everything to heart. There were a couple of helpers in the room with us that were taking care of a couple of babies. To be honest, this has been the hardest part for me to write emotionally. There was this baby who was all by himself. It was like I was supposed to meet him. He was just staring at me. I came over and sat by him-- he was sitting in some sort of plastic tube bed. I just stared at him. For whatever reason, he intrigued me.

I picked up one of the toys and shook it in front of him. He still just stared at me. I put the toy back on the blanket. I felt like he could read my mind. He started to cry a little so I finally picked him up and he instantly stopped crying. I was torn inside. I had never seen such a beautiful baby that could take my heart so easily. He was so quiet and bright eyed. I walked around with him on my shoulder for a short while. A metal gate outside came down for security. He was mesmerized. His eyes were glued to it. I could tell he was smart. He kept his eyes on what he had just seen move. Then he looked back at me. Then I cried.

I didn't stop crying the entire time I held him. I was so sad to know that someone had probably abandoned him in a trash can. I just wanted to change the whole world; everything seemed so wrong to me. Then I pitied the mother for whatever reason she had for giving up this beautiful baby. It must have been awful to go through an entire pregnancy to have to end up giving him away, or maybe she died. I didn't know, I don't think anyone did. It bothered me greatly, but it was amazing to know he was there and now he was loved. He fell asleep and I just stared at him until someone had to pull him away from me. I can't imagine what would have happened if they had let me hold him for another five minutes; I might have tried to adopt him regardless that I have no money and I'm in college.

The lady who took him from me to put him in his real bed told me his name was "Airbo." Which might have been "Arbo" which means inheritance.

I then went into the toddlers room where they had just finished taking their bathes so they were now in their jammies that were made to look like various animals. As soon as I sat down, two or three of them lunged their whole bodies at me. One sat in my arms, one grabbed a hold of my hair, while the third was busy opening my purse and pulling out all the contents. Then two of them ran away and I was stuck with the little girl who was in a pink bunny pajama suit.

She just kept laughing and then she hugged me and ran away. One girl came back and I pulled out my camera and took her picture.

The flash on my camera was really exciting to her so she grabbed the camera so I took another picture because it made her sit still. Then, I tried to do it again but instead she pushed me to the ground. I don't get it; I can win at tug-of-war, but when it comes to a two year old wanting a camera I don't stand a chance. I ran around the room chasing the pink bunny girl. Everyone else was heading outside to get ready to leave but I was oblivious to that. Justin was also playing with the toddlers. As I was holding the girl in the bunny suit, I got too close to the window and she grabbed the bars and intensely watched our team. It wasn't easy to pull her away.
We only had one van and our whole team. We somehow were able to pack everyone together; it was like human jenga.

That night the Journey had a prayer session that we attended. The atmosphere that they created made it personal. It was easy to spend some time and reflect with God, which was much needed after all that had happened so far. However, I reflected on all the events that were happening at home. I wrote in one of their journals about all the trials I had faced in the past couple of years. I didn't really think I was going to be back at the Journey again after this trip so I may have been too personal. I was trying to show that God provides no matter what. I was frustrated. The events of the day brought out my emotions, which for the most part, I had felt numb to everything for a long time. I don't know how healthy it was to put so much focus on so many hard things in my life, but later I realized I was surrendering it to Christ instead of letting these problems constantly bog me down as I carry them. Of course, there are some things that I continue to hold. I still haven't gotten over some things. I hope to be more willing to give it all away and to be more hopeful.

I ended up talking to Chris who I had shared with Tuesday night. He made me help him take down some of the things on the walls. He was hilarious. I had told him about some of the more silly parts of my life which he found entertaining. I told him about how I lost my dog and how big of an ordeal that was at home. It was good to laugh about that. Then he said that he could tell I was actually serious by the tone of my voice. Then I ran into Francisco-- I sat by him when Chi Alpha first met the Journey. He told me a whole bunch of encouraging things and I don't know where that all came from but it made me feel better.

That night, I ended up going to my first Indian restaurant. Again I was starving, but I was significantly more comfortable than last night. Brent did a great job of ordering for us, because most of us had no clue what was on the menu. I always thought it was strange whenever we were in a more fancy or tourist area because there would be a great deal more of white people-- I wondered where they hid when we were in the middle of Nairobi. It's hard not to wonder why they were there-- was it for business or were they also here on a mission trip? This was one of the more entertaining meals. I think as a whole our team had finally gotten enough rest and even though people were starting to get sick with something suspiciously like malaria, we were in pretty good spirits. That, and Brent ordered us something where we got to sample all kinds of spicy treats. It was delightful. Brent then told us that when we leave we have to try this stuff that's at the front of the restaurant.

As we were leaving, Brent pointed out the strange stuff. He took a handful of it and smiled with glee. I took one look at it and said, "You know, with my allergies this might not be the best idea, I think I'll pass." April took a bite then tried to smile. Both her and Jordan, and whoever else took it, darted down the stairs. They were gagging hysterically. And I was laughing hysterically. April said, "It smelt like potpourri!"

We came to the conclusion that maybe Brent had eaten this stuff thinking it was food but it was actually potpourri. Probably not, but I've seen April eat some nasty stuff so to see that reaction was fairly intense.



James 1:26-27
If anyone considers himself religious and yet does not keep a tight rein on his tongue, he deceives himself and his religion is worthless. Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.