LAST NOTE FROM KENYA

I am sitting in bed trying to wrap my mind around the fact that the next bed I sit in will be my own. After such a long time, its a little hard to imagine. I'm not really sure what I am feeling at the moment. A little anxious at the 26 hour travel ahead of me, but trying not to think too much about the actual leaving part. Even knowing that I am coming back in June (and bringing a few people with me) for two weeks its still hard to leave now. These kids are not at all what I expected and I have learned so much had such fun with them over the past six months. I'm so thankful to have had this opportunity to be here and spend time with them, they have made my life richer, and you have been a part of that.

Since the leaving part is so hard I'm going to focus on the coming home part instead. There is so much that I am excited about and want to do when I get home. I am excited to see my sisters and parents and family and friends. I'm excited to see the beach and once again be in San Luis. I'm excited to eat fresh vegetables and Hawaiian plates from Back Door Deli and sandwiches (6 inch Lisa's Stack on wheat no onions- thank you very much) from Stacked. And PIZZA. oh my goodness, you don't even know how excited I am to eat pizza. And chocolate chip cookies. And real french fries. AND CHEESE. The list goes on and on, but I think you get the idea.

I cant wait to see my high school students- ok, maybe they aren't mine anymore, but they will always be mine- and catch up on their lives and what God has been doing in them. And, believe it or not, I'm actually excited to see a dog that I can pet instead of the gross mangy disease ridden ones I have to avoid here.

With everything I have to look forward to and all that I am leaving behind I am a little overwhelmed. I'm sure that you will have a lot of questions for me and I want to answer them all, but I don't necessarily have answers for them all right now. Coming home is always a process and being gone for so long, it might take longer than normal for me to acclimate again. Please be patient with me if I say "i don't know" a lot, and please keep asking. Talking things through will help me to process.

For my OC friends, I will be home on tues and will need a couple of days to sleep and then would love to see you. since I dont have a job or anything to do, I'm wide open. call me.

For my SLO friends, I will be up that first weekend, the 5th-8th and will for sure be at church on Sunday morning. I want to see you too and since I dont have a job, or anything to do, I'm wide open. call me.

I love you all so much. Thank you for taking this journey with me.

SOMETHING PROFOUND

I only have three days left here in Kenya. This being the case, I wanted to write something profound and deep and meaningful. But its been a long day and I cant think of anything.
Today, as long as it was, was a good day though. I moved out of the apartment in Jamuhuri and into the orphanage with the kids for my last few nights. We played like 5672 rounds of UNO, sang and danced and banged on some containers. I hung out with the girls, set up facebooks for some of the boys, got soaked in a HUGE rainstorm, watched a silly movie (monsters vs aliens- I mean really?) played some game that I didnt understand with the really little ones who only speak Swahili and generally had a really good day.
I guess I feel like since I have so little time left it should be filled with big lessons and life changing experiences, but the whole last six months have been filled with those things and to be honest, I'm kind of happy to have just a normal, fun day with my babies. I'm going to miss them, but I'm trying not to think about that too much. Instead, I'm going to focus on making the next two days like this.
Thats going to have to be profound enough.

THE WASHER WOMAN'S REVENGE

Apparently in 1907 there was a movie made called "The Washer Woman's Revenge"(dont ask me why or how I know that). It seems like a silly title for a movie or a story line but after six months of doing my laundry in a bucket, I can kind of understand it a little bit.

Today, I bent over my last washing bucket. As I went to hang the last of my laundry I was so overcome and excited by this fact that I dropped one of my shirts off the line (something I haven't done but have always been afraid of doing) thankfully it was caught by the line beneath it and didn't fall to the ground. As I ran down the steps to retrieve it, I began to think of what it would be like to have this part of my life removed.
I never much liked doing laundry. But I have learned to be thankful for 'modern' inventions like the washing machine. Over the last several months I have had a sore back and consistently dirty, semi-smelly clothes. No matter how much I scrubbed, I never could seem to get them clean. This, is the plight of all Kenyan woman as washing is "woman's work" -just ask any Kenyan man. And I think if I had to do my laundry like this for the rest of my life, I just might take revenge too. Luckily for me(and all those I might seek to take revenge on), I have an aunt who loves me and sent me some money so that I could have some of my clothes washed for me over the last month. For this, I am eternally grateful.
Also luckily for me, unlike all those Kenyan's who will continue to wash their clothes by hand, I get to go home in just a few days and once again use a washing machine.

SIX MONTHS AGO TODAY

Six months ago today I was sitting on the floor in my parents living room surrounded by bags of clothes, art supplies, toiletries, make-up, books. All things that I thought I needed to get me through the next six months living in Africa. Then, everything seemed so surreal. The thought of using all those things that I had so carefully bagged, labeled, folded and packed in my new life on another continent wasn't quite getting through to my brain. The fact that in another six months I'd be back there again minus all the bags was even harder to imagine.
And yet, six months later, here I am preparing for that journey back. This time on the floor of a small apartment in Kenya. And instead of clothes etc, I have African dolls, earrings, wraps, other things to give away and to keep and the girl that sits on the floor now seems so distant from the one that sat on the floor six months ago.
I can not help but wonder what floor she will be sitting on and what she will be like six months from now.

VALUES BASED LEADERSHIP

For the past several weeks I have been seeing billboards, fliers, and huge banners stretched across intersections featuring the face of John Maxwell; leadership guru and author extraordinaire. I've read his books, and chances are, you have too. Especially if you hold any type of leadership position anywhere. I will admit that he has some good stuff to say. For example "A great leaders courage to fulfill his vision comes from passion, not position." Now that is definitely a statement, a nugget, if you will of wisdom that I can get behind, agree with and believe in. What I cant get behind is someone like Maxwell who has a lot of influence and a lot of knowledge to share using that influence to take advantage of people.
Case in point: the billboards, fliers and banners that I've see all over town are advertising a ONE day "values based leadership conference" featuring the great John Maxwell for SIXTY-FIVE THOUSAND KENYAN SHILLINGS
Thats little less than Nine hundred USD. $900.00. For a one day conference.
This price is ridiculous anywhere, but in a third world country? In a country where the average citizen barely feeds his family for about a dollar a day? Its more than ridiculous.

It is wrong.

The small business owners, the pastors, the directors of children's homes, the people who need something like this, the ones who care enough to actually make a difference and sacrifice everyday in this country. The people he should be targeting are the very ones who after years of saving would still not be able to afford this conference.
It makes me angry and I wonder why he is doing it. It cant be to help Kenya because like I said, the very Kenyans who need it cant afford it. So why? to make money? to be famous in more countries than just the U.S.?
I love this country. She is flawed and has much to overcome, but I love her. I want her best and I want her people to learn how to stand on their own.

He is a leader. But I no longer see any value in what he has to say. or sell.

HOPE

SHOUT OUT

I just love skype. It allows me to connect with people on the other side of the world that I normally wouldn't be able to. AND, even better than the video calling which is sometimes difficult cause you have to coordinate when you will be on etc is the fact that I can call any land line or cell phone in the states unlimited for only $5 a month!! So I can call anyone, at anytime. Like Tessa.

SOOO, sign up for skype and add me or send me your number so we can talk!

I love technology.

STORM OVER PARADISE

Storm Over Paradise is a spanish soap with english dubs that I've been watching pretty much every night since I came to Kenya.

It. Is. UNBELIEVABLE.

Seriously. I love it. Its full of drama and suspense. Love triangles and octagons and people trying to kill other people multiple times (and yet somehow police never get involved or even called).
Women making stupid mistakes,identities being stolen, plots to take over massive amounts of land and money, cars blowing up, people going blind than miraculously getting their sight back. There was memory loss, secrets and lies. People getting stung to death by bees (that was kinda gross)and getting struck by lightning.
And all of this with english dubs. What could be better?
My evenings are sometimes difficult cause I'm not really supposed to go outside after dark cause it isnt safe. Storm Over Paradise gave me something to look forward to every evening and helped get me through it. It made me crazy, but I loved it.

And now, its over.

I'm not gonna lie, when I found out tonight was the final episode, I was more than a little bummed. But then I remembered that I bought seasons 1 AND 2 at the market the other day and now I feel better about life.
Now we can ALL enjoy Storm together!!
Dont try and hide your excitement. It'll be good.

THE NEGOTIATOR

I always thought that I could talk my way into or out of anything as well as talk others into going along with me. Being a negotiator was a profession that appealed to me. I would whirl into a hostage situation, smile confidently, be witty and charming and talk the HT into giving me all the hostages and surrendering himself. A day in the markets here, however, has shattered my confidence in my ability to negotiate. I’m horrible at it.

The thing is, since I’m a mzungu as soon as a seller sees me coming the price is automatically jacked up 2 to 3 times what it originally was. And I have no resolve. I’ll crumble and pay whatever price is asked of me and throw in a couple extra hundred just for good measure. Its shameful.

Today I went to the Toi market to get some DVDs for the kids to watch on the weekend. The DVDs here are amazing cause you can by one disc with 10 movies on it. The rule is, you shouldn't really pay more than 100 shillings for them. So when the vendor (whose name by the way is Dan and who kept trying to get me to buy earrings as well – buy 10 get 10 free)told me they were 200 each, I was prepared.

To make a long story short, my friend Samantha and I spent a long time at their table talking and laughing and negotiating- ok, I was flirting; I was able to get a few for 100ksh each, but not all of the ones I wanted. Maybe I’m not so bad at negotiating as I thought. Or maybe I’m just better at flirting. Or maybe they’re sort of the same thing?

CULTURE SHOCK

An expression that I’ve heard a lot over the past few months and use often myself is “its cultural” It is used as a statement of fact, but also, as sort of an excuse I think. When something happens that is different or unexplainable to us “mazungus” we simply shrug our shoulders as if to say “its Kenya, what can you do?”

As the youth director at New Life Church I always did my best to expose my students to other cultures and teach them to be accepting, tolerant and loving of people who did things differently than we did. After all, “its not bad, its just different” and although I still want the students that I come in contact with to experience different cultures and broaden their world view, I’m not sure anymore if “its not bad, just different” is completely accurate or usable in all situations.

Yes, I have no right to come to another country and try to force or impose my beliefs and values on its residents just because I may believe that my point of view is the right one. And I understand that I can not change a culture and really have no right to. So here is my question:

Does a belief or value being cultural, make it right or OK?

And where do you draw the line?

Exhibit A: in the U.S. we are on time. We make appointments and keep them. Our schedules are set and we follow them sometimes down to the second. They are important to us. We would never dream of being late to an interview and in fact doing so would be seen by the prospective employer as a lack of commitment, and work ethic. If we have friends or know people that are always late they are looked on as flaky or unreliable. Here, it is not so. Its perfectly acceptable and normal to be an hour and a half late to a meeting or show up with an appointment at all. Nothing starts on time and no one expects it to. Its not bad, its just different.

Exhibit B: In Kenya if you walk into your office to find a stranger with his hands in your purse, it is perfectly acceptable to beat him. When you call the police to report it you might hear something like “just kill him and we’ll come and get the body later” Not bad, just different??

Exhibit C: Washing the dishes the other day, I asked some of the boys to help. The response that I got was not a happy one. I was told that washing dishes is “woman's work”. A test that I was grading not too long ago asked the question, ‘Eve was created for Adam as a _______’ the possible answers were friend, slave, helpmate. The majority of boys marked ‘slave’ as their answer. Boys are not taught to respect women, and women are not taught to expect respect from men. They each have their respective roles and they fill them without complaint. I am not arguing for against specific gender roles. I am, however, arguing for a woman's right to be treated like a human being whose values, opinions, and talents are valuable, not as a work horse. Most don't seem to mind or care that they are treated like they are. Is that because they accept and believe in the system in which they are brought up? Or is it simply because they know no other way?

Not bad? Just different?

THINGS I'VE LEARNED #11-15

#11. If i were a man I could pee ANYWHERE I wanted to. This wide open field surrounded by tons of people looks like a good place.....

#12. If I was a thief I could be burned alive, beaten or thrown on train tracks. Nobody would mind much, the police would just come and get my body later.

#13. Storm Over Paradise is the best soap ever created. EVER.

#14. Swahili. Still not fluent, but most of the time I can guess what someone is saying fairly accurately. Is that cause I’m learning Swahili or because I’m just a good guesser? Maybe I’m psychic?

#15. Shaving your legs really isn't that necessary. Even if you are wearing shorts or a skirt. There’s a lot of freedom in this one.

A FATHERS LOVE

20 December, 2009

In the movie 'Greece' a very serious Frenchy tells a very upset Sandy that "the only man a girl can really depend on his her daddy" This is, unfortunately not always the case.
I have an incredible father. He has always made us his priority and he has never let me down. Sometimes my friends dads would say they were going to come and pick them up and would never show. My dad was there. Every. Single. Time. If our view of our Heavenly Father is shaped by that of our earthly one, then I'm good.
I cannot, however, say the same for many of the children that I spend my days with. Although a majority of them are total orphans having lost their parents to disease and accidents, many of them have only one parent,their fathers having left when they were young. They have absentee fathers, and fathers who are drunkards and torture and abuse their children. I met one of them the other day. We had traveled to the country to a small town called Machakos in order to secure some forms for one of our kids. Zipporah Mumbi (in picture) is a beautiful, smart, outgoing young woman. She is always ready to help and looks out for the younger children at the home. That anyone would not want to know this precious girl is something that I cannot fathom. And yet, this man, her father, does not know her.
When Mumbi was very young her always drunk and very abusive father beat her mother to death. She and her brother were able to escape to Nairobi where by luck and God's grace they found their grandmother who was able to find a place for them at Cheryl's. It has been many years since she has seen him and him being there that day was a very unwelcome surprise to her. His greeting was a question. Not, "hello Mumbi" but more like, "are you Mumbi?" And then he wanted to shake my hand. My feelings at that moment are something that I'm not sure I can explain. Knowing what I know about him, it was difficult to look him in the eye and I had to make a conscious effort to not wipe my hand on my skirt after he released it. Their interaction was brief and limited and as he said good-bye and we left him, an unexpected feeling stirred in my heart. Pity, and wonder. I actually felt sorry for him. I felt sorry for all the bad choices that he had made in his life that meant he didn't know this incredible girl. And I wondered about him. I wondered what he had been thinking the whole time. How he felt when he said good-bye to his youngest daughter. Wondered if he was sorry, if he wished that he knew her, and had been a father that she could count on. Even now, as I write about it I am on the verge of tears and I still wonder. And yet a part of me is very angry.
These children deserve so much better. They deserve to have a father like mine, one who is kind and loving and generous. And if our view of our earthly fathers shape that of our Heavenly One, what does that mean for them?
If you are reading this, (which obviously you are, duh) I hope it means that you have been following a little bit of what I have been doing here for the last several months, and maybe your heart has been touched just a little by the life that is here. If thats the case, will you please do me a favor? Will you commit to praying for these little ones? They need fathers in their lives. A father that will never leave them or forsake them, one that they can run to for shelter in a storm. A father that knows them well and will call their names confidently.
Because it actually is true. The only man a girl can really depend on,is her Daddy.

road trip part II

17th of December, 2009

Kenya is an absolutely beautiful country. Sure, its kinda smoggy, and full of trash and sometimes has some weird smells going on, but most of it is just gorgeous. We had been trying to get a passport for one of our students so she can travel to the UK this winter for a fund raiser (which has since been canceled-boooo) and it proved to be a lot more work than we originally thought. On Tuesday I found out that in order to get her birth certificate and passport we had to travel to the village where she was born and get a letter from her area chief. No problem right? Ummm, sort of, since we actually needed SO much more than that. So on Thursday we set off to a small rural area in the country called Machakos. I wont bore you with specifics of getting everything together but suffice it to say we ended up having to leave her brother there and he wasn't able to return with everything to Nairobi until the following Tues. What they say, is true though. It isn't always about the destination. Its the journey that counts. And this one was fun. Because most of what I know about Kenya is the craziness of Nairobi, its easy to forget the pockets of paradise that lay around the city. As we drove we came upon hillsides covered in lush green vegetation, small farming communities, waterfalls, and clear clean blue skies. At one point we stopped somewhere to ask for directions and there were a bunch of grandmothers just hanging out on the side of the road. I was startled to suddenly find one standing right outside of my window smiling a huge toothless grin and waving vigorously. After I responded with a “mambo” and smile of my own she ran back to her friends giggling!! It was a long and tiring day but I am glad that I once again got an opportunity to see more of this amazing country that I am for the moment, calling home.

Peter

Webster.com gives one of the definitions of the word "cancer" as:
'something evil that spreads destructively'
This may not be a medically sound definition, and it may not be the one you get when you ask someone what it means (after all, it was 4th down on the list), but it is the one that I identify with most at the moment. It is all of those things, it is evil; it is selfish and turns our focus onto it and it alone. It demands our immediate attention and brings us to a place where we neglect other things in our lives. And it does spread, it spreads fear and doubt into our hearts and minds causing us to forget the author of our lives and His infinite love, mercy and grace.
And the thing is, it doesn't have to be in you to spread its destructive evil, it just has to be close to someone who is close to you. A grandmother. A pastor. An 11 year old orphan boy....
Peter Ochieng is an almost 12 year old boy who loves soccer, checkers, his friends and home and has an evil spreading destructively through his brain.
This ordeal has been stressful to say the least but last night, things changed for me. The changes came with a phone call from the director frantically looking for our projects team leader because the doctor at the hospital cant get a hold of him and its urgent and do I know where he is please?
The doctor finally talked to Kieren who talked to me and let me know that the tumor had moved into Peter's brain and he needed to have a 400,000 schilling ($5,000.00)surgery immediately. And like that, with a five minute conversation I found my resolve shattering. I dont know how to handle cancer in a 12 year old boy. I dont know how to think about his brain being invaded by this disease and the danger and risk that comes with brain surgery. I didnt quite know how to talk to God at that moment. And I forgot. I forgot that God loves Peter even more than I do, and that he knows. For a moment I forgot what I've always known and what I base my whole life around.
God is faithful.
And he is there.
Lucky for me, I have people in my life to remind me of these things and to keep me remembering.
The next week or so will be tough. Peter is having surgery tomorrow and will need to stay in the ICU for about a week after that, and then the chemo begins.
Please continue to pray for us. Pray for Peter- he is brave, but he is also scared. And pray for Kieren, he has a lot on his plate right now being the one to take care of all the details. And pray for me. That in my last few weeks here I will be an encouragement. And that I will remember.

If you'd like to know more about who Peter is as a person, his medical condition and how you can help financially please click on the link below and read the two profiles.
If you have any questions please do not hesitate to contact me. (livea.revolution@yahoo.com)


http://www.box.net/shared/hvhkrjx6hc

My flesh and my heart may fail,
But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. Psalm 73:26