On Wednesday (7-7-10), we visited the Fuata Nyayo slum where one of our Kenyan friends grew up. It took us 10 min. to walk through the slum to get to the secondary school that we were speaking and singing to. Those 10 min. felt like a lifetime. The smells, the sounds, and the sights are difficult to describe, but I will attempt. Trash littered the mushy, brown dirt underneath me. Sewage 10 times anything I’ve ever smelled filled my nostrils. Women and men yelled, “Sister, sister, come buy.” A chorus of barefoot children sang, “How are you” in unison. (Somehow all slum children know that phrase?) Flies swarmed around goats eating the leftover corn cobs and candy wrappers piled about 2 feet high. The despair in the eyes of the women was as dark as the blackest night. I gazed down to my dirty brown (once white and pink) tennis shoes so thankful that my toes were covered, but then I saw 3 little boys with huge holes in their shirts, pants barely hanging on, and feet so dusty you couldn’t see their skin. Tears softly filled my eyes along with many questions. Why was I born in America and not in a Kenyan slum? Why did God give me loving parents and not molestation ever since I can remember? Why do I open my pantry and have a choice of what to eat instead of a completely empty stomach? Why? I’ve wrestled with these thoughts a lot in prayer and discussion, and so far all I’ve discovered is I don’t know why but God does. I can’t allow these questions to hinder me now, but I can only give ALL of my love at every opportunity. Ahhh, God is good, and I’m always learning.
Thank you for all of the prayers,
Sarah
