Can't believe I am saying this, but I am officially blogging from Kenya! As I write this, I am sitting in an Internet café in Busia, where my team will be staying for the next 2 months!
We have been here since Thursday, and these past few days have been full of plenty of culture shock (spoiler alert: no toilets) and lots of adventures. All in all, I cannot begin to say how much I love being here with my team. The Kenyans are wonderful hosts, as evidenced by their joyful shouts of "Mzungu-mzungu-hawayou?!" (Swahenglish for "White person! White person! How are you?") whenever we walk outside.
One of the things we have been able to do here is to minister to street children. On Saturday we went to play soccer with a group of about 30 boys of all ages. It is so hard for me to describe or even comprehend the brokenness that I saw when we were with them. These young boys are forced into orphanhood and homelessness due to death of their parents, abandonment, or possibly even by choice.
When we arrived, we were met by a group of the street children, wearing wide grins on their faces and tattered clothing hanging loosely on their bodies. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see bottles and rags hidden under their clothing, which I later found out were saturated with glue. The street children lead such difficult lives that they use glue to get high, simply to escape. These are children that have been robbed of their childhood.
While we were there, a little boy named Aaron approached me and held my hand (disclaimer: name may be modified for privacy purposes or downright incorrect due to language barriers). He didn't remove his hand from mine for the 2 hours we were there. When all the other boys ran off to play frisbee or soccer, he stayed with me, simply content to dance together without any background music.
The following morning, we went to church (And by morning I mean 7:30 a.m. – 5:30 p.m. – Kenyans do church big, y'all). As we were singing and dancing during worship, I felt a tug on the back of my dress. I turned around only to be met by huge dark brown eyes and a wide grin, belonging to none other than Aaron.
As we held hands and continued to worship, I could do nothing more than pray fervently and desperately for this boy who knows deeper loss and harsher pain than any I have come close to. I am inspired and amazed by this little boy with a hopeful smile in a seemingly hopeless situation.
Kids here like Aaron have taught me so much about simple joys. Even when I take my weekly bath which consists of dunking my head in a bucket of water, I have never been so thankful to be blessed with soap and water! (Even though I may not be blessing others by my dreads-in-progress and less-than-Bath & Body Works stench.) As the Kenyans (and the honorary mzungu-Kenyans) like to say, "Bwana asifiwe!" (Or "Praise God!" as we like to say back in the States).
I can't thank everyone back home enough for your love and support. I am so blessed by you all!
