He said, "Yes!"

Silas, the dad of the Sifuna kids, agreed without any objection to join the alcohol rehab program that'll start tomorrow in Ilula. That's a huge answer to prayer! Yeah God!

Before and After

Just thought to post a new photo of the Sifuna kids, and one from the first day I got to visit them last July. Their dad will be challenged tomorrow to join our AA program that starts this week, Thursday. Please join me in praying that Silas will indeed be willing to join the program! Mama Chiri will be taking care of the children during the time when Silas will be in rehab. I should be able to let you know by Thursday if he's in or not!

Finding Hope

Victor, originally uploaded by Boyznberry.

This morning, I joined our social worker Ruth for some home visits. The families we were to visit are both ones with pretty dismal stories, and I didn't really know what to expect. "Show us, Father, how to share the hope that we have in You," I prayed as we started the journey.

First stop: Tekla's house. This mother of six has made some improvement since people from ELI have started visiting her. But she's still trapped in alcoholism, which truly prohibits the family from making much-needed improvement. Her husband is an alcoholic, too, and he smokes bang (marijuana). One night, while he was high, he attacked their one son, trying to cut his head off.

The son survived, but his vocal cords were severed, leaving him without a voice. He is now living with someone in another community.

The dad ended up in prison, but has since been released, and everyone's dreading the day he may show up at home...

In the meantime, Tekla continues to drink while having four children at home. There's hardly a thing in their house. No food. Just some dirty pots from having cooked porridge this morning. ELI's home-based care team provides the flour for the porridge. They've learned not to bring more than she can cook in just a few days since she trades food for alcohol.

Tekla wasn't there when we showed up, so we got to visit with the kids for a while. Jeptoo, the 8-year-old, reminds me a lot of Jemutai. She's yet another young girl who basically has to care for younger siblings... Ruth has been encouraging Jeptoo to help their 3-year-old sister Jesang to walk. Jesang is about the size of my American neighbors' 1-year-old. She doesn't walk. She hardly talks. We suspect it's from neglect, but Ruth is taking her to a clinic in town later this week to see if it might be a physical handicap. In the meantime, Jeptoo is shown how to hold Jesang's hand and carefully help her to take little steps.

While the girls are working on walking, 6-year-old Cosmas quietly plays with his baby brother, Victor, who is just shy of 2 years old. "Cosmas has a severe stutter," Ruth explains later, "so he doesn't talk much." But Victor is oblivious to the trails his older siblings have faced. His age has been the protecting factor, just like in the case of Kipruto.

We leave later with a promise of being back. I call the guys from our AA ministry, and they commit to come and visit Tekla, to talk to her about joining our November intake at Kipkaren. "Things will be better, Adele," Ruth assures me. "They already are. But the mom must stop drinking..."

A 40-minute-or-so walk from there, we stop at our next home for the morning, that of Lillian, the mom with twins. Her home is a stark contrast with the one we had just visited. The compound has been swept. Clean laundry is hanging on the line.

"Karibu!" the young mom says with a big smile. Her hair has been wound into small balls, and as we sit down in her sparse living room, she cannot stop fiddling with her hair, constantly twisting new balls. It looks cute, but I can't help but wonder about the mom. She's just . . . different.

We ask about her babies and she's happy to report that she's now producing more milk, but not enough to sustain both. "She's still feeding the babies uji," Ruth translates. "She says porridge has more nutrition than milk..." Riiiiight. For 2-month-olds! "And she says she's adding Blue Band [margarine] to fatten them up." I just about swallowed my tongue.

We visit more, and she tells us that she still gets really bad dreams. I pray for her before we head out, but somehow, I just can't seem to find the right words to pray. I don't know why.

Ruth stays behind to talk to her about family planning. The 29-year-old isn't interested. "I can't take shots," she explains to Ruth. "I have cancer."

"What kind of cancer?"

"It moves all over my body..."

"Would she be willing to give them formula if I bought it?" I ask Ruth on the walk home.

"We can try!"

Lillian used to brew alcohol for an income, but no longer does it. Typically, she sells her body to make money...

We walk home in silence. What can we do for our neighbor? Her problems go far deeper than producing enough milk for her twins. It's more than postpartem depression. I am no doctor, so I cannot say, but others talk of schizophrenia. And some major spiritual issues.

Where's the hope in this? 1 Peter 3:15 says, "Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you and accounting for the hope that is in you." I know my hope is in Christ. He gives meaning to my life. But I've never gone to bed hungry. I've not had a parent abuse me, or be psychologically unstable. How is it possible to keep the hope when your world is far less than simple.

God knew I needed an answer, that this week, more questions seem to be coming forth from my side than I can find simple answers for. So he sent Nellie to my door.

"Adele! I praise God for this chance to see you!" my friend said with all sincerity as she gave me the biggest hug. She's here for an interview, and still has to make the couple-hour journey back home, so we cannot visit for long.

As we walk over to the children's home so she can see her nephew and niece, she cannot contain her joy. "I have to tell you! My mother is now sober!"

"How did that happen??!"

"She just quit drinking one day! God has answered my prayers of many years. I cried for one week. Tears of joy, really. Our home is a different place. Imagine... my mom can now cook for us. I can find a job!"

Sydney and Niva smile the biggest smiles I've seen in a while when they see their aunt walking over. They give her huge hugs and fumble to find the right words. Having lived in a Swahili-speaking environment for a year now, they've forgotten much of their mother tongue. Nellie switches to Swahili and tells them news from Mt. Elgon, of cousins who send greetings. Then she tells them that gogo no longer drinks. Their little smiles cannot get any bigger!

"It's ONLY because of God, Adele," Nellie assures me as I drive her to the main road. "I have seen God break through so many areas! Now, people are starting to say in my village, 'I want my daughter to be like Nellie. I don't want her to undergo FGM.' Imagine! God is answering my prayers."

Indeed. Nellie was the first girl in her village to refuse FGM. She was shunned by her community and by her family. Yet she stayed on so she could serve her alcoholic parents and her siblings who were dying of AIDS. Today, people are starting to follow her example.

When I finally drop her at the matatu stage, my heart is light. God does indeed answer prayers. And though change happens slowly in rural Kenya, it does happen. It takes only one to stand up against cultural practices that have gone unchallenged for too many years.

As for cases like that of Tekla and Lillian, it takes a village to come alongside these families. To love and support them. To show them Christ's love.

I am infinitely grateful to be part of a village and a ministry who is doing just that.

The Juggle

This morning, after spending several hours in the office working on projects, I got to go and see my friends at the ELI Drug and Alcohol Rehab Center. I've been back in Kenya for a week now, and the times spent visiting and greeting people is far from over. Many others have invited me over for chai. I may have mentioned this before, but the driving value in Kenyan culture is relationship. (In the US? Entertainment/Leisure) So, unless you spend time visiting people and building strong relationships, your work might as well be in vain. It's simply not received well.

Let me tell you about the Ronos who are the directors of KAA (Kenya Anti-Alcohol). Pastor Philip (or simply, Rono) is younger than I, and for the past 8 years, he's been directing the KAA program. It started in 1999, when a visitor came. The man was a recovered alcoholic, and Rono was asked to take him around and be his translator. During that time, the visitor and others encouraged Rono to start an anti-alcohol ministry. He wanted nothing to do with it since he came from an house where alcohol was a problem. (He himself never was an alcoholic, though.)

But before the visitor left, God spoke clearly to Philip. “You’ll continue this ministry,” God told him. Philip says that he was scared at first, but God taught him and strengthened him. The first group to meet consisted of just 5 men and quickly grew to 18. When he started meetings across the river, there were 38 men who got saved from the grip of alcoholism. He then started meeting with officers at the nearby police station, and soon afterward, a group of soldiers at the Kenya Army Barracks.

Since that time, 1200 men and women have graduated from the Kenya Anti-Alcohol program. “But there are more,” Philip says. “Many of the men and women have helped others get free. I want to continue doing this ministry till the day I die. I have seen the hand of the Lord here. It is so moving to see the reconciliation between families when they come to visit for the first time after their husbands/fathers are sober!”

I love being able to work alongside people like the Ronos. They have an amazing heart to see people set free!

***
After coming back to Ilula, the team returned from Sudan. They were tired and ready for showers. I listened to their stories till our last visitor for the week arrived, a lady from Saddleback Church named Tammy. After dinner (and the usual post-dinner team meetings) I took Tammy to say good-night to some of the girls.

It was 10 by the time I got back to my home, and then I had to type up information from interviews (such as of the visit with the Ronos) for a project the home office is working on. It's after 11, and I'm ready to start heading to bed. I have a 5:30 am prayer commitment with Ruth, one of the moms at the home, 7:30 breakfast with the team, and then we're off to Kipkaren.

In Kipkaren, I get to track down the last of the staff whom I need to interview/photograph and will see what other opportunities God brings. If nothing (and if the team doesn't need my company), I have a very long list of tasks to tackle, including working on learning Swahili.

Friday we'll probably leave for Moi's Bridge/Natwana no later than 7:30 and we'll be at the AIDS campaign the ENTIRE day (and into the night), where I'll be taking photos and praying for those being tested.

I'll head back to Ilula early on Saturday morning, attend Laban and Angelina Rono's 25th wedding anniversary celebrations, whereafter I'm putting on the first-ever Ilula Birthday Bash. Since there are 100 kids, it's hard to celebrate birthdays. The moms had mentioned to me last year that they'd love to do a monthly celebration, but they're not sure how they can do it. We visited about it again last week and have come up with the plan to celebrate the first Saturday every month. Ruth (a mom) is baking a big cake. I've got cards for the 35 kids who've had their birthdays from January till April. And then we'll watch Happy Feet. Or Cars. Or Charlotte's Web. Not sure yet. The boys want to see "the movie about the cars that talk." The girls want to see "the one about the pig that can talk." I'm thinking I'm going to have to show them something else, just so no-one wins! :) And then I need to remember not to say much when the kids ask me what other movies I brought back... :)

In case you're concerned about me showing the kids movies and basing my relationship with them just on that, it's far from it. I was hesitant to start showing movies again right away, but the parents asked me to please show the children movies whenever I have time on Saturday afternoons. They say that the teachers at school have been commenting how good our children's English is, and what amazing stories they come up with for their creative writing assignments.

I've started showing the children one or two pictures I've taken of birds in the area. My goal is to create an awareness with them of the intricacies of God's creation, and show them what to look out for in identifying different birds. I'm hoping at least a few of them will realize what a wealth of bird life they have around them, and who knows, perhaps they might grow up to be game wardens in Kenya's parks. At least they'd know about the birds in this area, I hope. :)

Anyway, it'll probably be Saturday evening before I get to connect online.

As you can see, the lines between work and leisure are very blurred in my world, especially when teams are here. It's not like you can walk out of a late-night meeting or choose not to show up for early breakfast.

I'm babbling. It's late. I still need to pack for my 2 days in Kipkaren.

Lala salama. Or have a blessed day, wherever you may be.