“If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them goes astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine and go to the mountains to seek the one that is straying?....Even so it is not the will of your Father who is in heaven that (even) one of these little ones should perish.” Matthew 18:12, 14
This week has been one of visiting prospective children and we have travelled far and wide to see them. The rains have pretty much made distance travel on the dirt roads impossible in the van – so we have a new mode of transportation – motorcycle taxis! I often use them in Thailand and Vietnam – but this has been my first experience here in Kenya. And it is definitely the best way to experience this land and people!
The first trip was to a village only about 25 minutes away – we hopped on the bikes and everyone in Kangundo laughed to see the muzungu (white) woman on a motorcycle. We passed a school with several hundred children in the yard – and every single child screamed and laughed and ran to the fence to see such a sight! God certainly has a sense of humor – sending someone like me who hates to be the center of attention to a place like Kenya! Imagine! We arrived at our destination to meet a 4 year old boy whose mother died from AIDS 3 days after his birth. He sat with his wide eyes staring into mine the whole time we were there. It was enough to break my heart into pieces. As we mounted the bikes to leave, the rain started – just a little at first.... My driver asked me if I was afraid of the rain and was so surprised when I told him no. (what do people here think about foreigners?!?) In moments it started pouring and we were soaked to the skin so we stopped and ducked into a tiny little village tea shop. It was crowded with old men sitting and chatting, but we squeezed into the room and sat with them. Daniel began talking to the men in Kikamba about our work. I remember having a very strong sense that we were there for a purpose – and in time that became apparent. One of the men was a schoolteacher and another a pastor – and they were eager to work with us to find the neediest of the needy children in their area. And just imagine, when the conversation died down, the rain stopped!
On the way back the driver even offered to let me drive the bike! (I declined...) As people kept waving at him and laughing to see him driving with me on the back I told him “You are going to be famous after this” and he said, “Yes, I LOOOOVE it!!” It seems I was not the only one with stories to tell that day....Too funny!
The next day we had a looong drive ahead of us – we left at 9 and returned at 4. We were headed to meet children near one of the more remote churches. It was a sunny day and we set out on the dusty road in good spirits. It is exhilarating to ride on the motorcycle – you experience the scenery and the people in a whole different way. But some of the magic started to wear off when we started on the bumpy part of the road. The driver seemed determined to be first in the group and would just plow straight over the potholes to get ahead. This does not make for a very comfortable ride (to say the least). It became a not-so-subtle form of spinal compression! We drove thru mud and small lakes and then had to walk a half an hour through swampy land to find a 12 year old girl and a 6 year old boy whose mother had just died and left 6 kids behind. They lived in the flatlands – a big difference from the endless hills of the Kangundo area. After finishing their interview we were off again – after a half an hour we arrived at the base of Mount Kilomonbogo. We left our drivers behind and began the long trek to a small 6 year old’s home where he lived with his almost-blind grandfather. He was born in Nairobi and his grandfather didn’t even know he existed until his daughter died from AIDS. We met the boy at his school – he had no shoes and his uniform was tattered and torn. At the school we also met another 6 year old boy and 8 year old girl whose mother and father both died of AIDS. Each one was just as ragged and pitiful as the rest.
The school was incredible – as soon as I walked into the schoolyard all the kids came running. Just when I was in danger of being totally mobbed two older boys with switches came and made them back away (and hit them with the stick if they didn’t move fast enough – these were clearly the playground enforcers!) As I walked they followed me – but if I stopped and turned around they stopped too. It was soooo funny – kind of like in the cartoons. Their faces were bright and curious – I wished so much that I could talk to them. I found that they didn’t understand a word of Nepali.... (my first impulse is always to speak Nepali to foreign children) But children everywhere understand smiles – and they love having their pictures taken. Of course there is always the one who has to trample all the rest of the children to make sure he is in every single picture. Some things don’t change no matter which country you are in! It was fun to spend time at the school with them – but I cringed hearing all the coughing and sicknesses and skin diseases that were probably going unnoticed. I was saddened by eye infections and crossed eyes and disabilities that ought not to go without treatment. But this is rural Africa – not even one child was wearing shoes!
After visiting with one more family and hearing one more extremely sad story, we got on the bikes to head home. I was enjoying everything around me as we cut thru the countryside – the bluest of skies filled with giant fluffy white clouds. The lush green plants in contrast to the red Kenyan dirt. Brightly colored birds and flowers of all colors. It was stunning. But as I pondered the other things we had seen that day – the suffering, the bereaved, the sick, and the abjectly poor, the sadness of it all overcame me. Tears streaked across my face as I wondered how we were going to help all of these children. Every one we have seen so far needs to be rescued – but we can only do it one life at a time. The weight of the choosing feels like more than I can bear sometimes and thinking how to tell someone who has been given a shred of hope that you cannot do anything for them at this time after all seems to be the cruelest of acts.
We had been on a 6 hour bouncy motorcycle trip (by the end of the day I was sure I was at least one inch shorter) gone thru drenching rain, gotten stuck in the mud, trekked thru a swamp and climbed up and down the base of a mountain to find these children. It made me think of the story of the lost sheep and the great lengths that God goes to bring one of his little ones home. May God give us wisdom to know which of His sheep He has sent us out after and grace to comfort those we cannot help.
May you have a blessed Easter Resurrection Sunday as we celebrate the new life we have in Christ because HE LIVES!! But don’t just celebrate the Good News this Easter – share it with someone who doesn’t know it – there are lost sheep around you too today.
ready to hit the road again,
The first trip was to a village only about 25 minutes away – we hopped on the bikes and everyone in Kangundo laughed to see the muzungu (white) woman on a motorcycle. We passed a school with several hundred children in the yard – and every single child screamed and laughed and ran to the fence to see such a sight! God certainly has a sense of humor – sending someone like me who hates to be the center of attention to a place like Kenya! Imagine! We arrived at our destination to meet a 4 year old boy whose mother died from AIDS 3 days after his birth. He sat with his wide eyes staring into mine the whole time we were there. It was enough to break my heart into pieces. As we mounted the bikes to leave, the rain started – just a little at first.... My driver asked me if I was afraid of the rain and was so surprised when I told him no. (what do people here think about foreigners?!?) In moments it started pouring and we were soaked to the skin so we stopped and ducked into a tiny little village tea shop. It was crowded with old men sitting and chatting, but we squeezed into the room and sat with them. Daniel began talking to the men in Kikamba about our work. I remember having a very strong sense that we were there for a purpose – and in time that became apparent. One of the men was a schoolteacher and another a pastor – and they were eager to work with us to find the neediest of the needy children in their area. And just imagine, when the conversation died down, the rain stopped!
On the way back the driver even offered to let me drive the bike! (I declined...) As people kept waving at him and laughing to see him driving with me on the back I told him “You are going to be famous after this” and he said, “Yes, I LOOOOVE it!!” It seems I was not the only one with stories to tell that day....Too funny!
The next day we had a looong drive ahead of us – we left at 9 and returned at 4. We were headed to meet children near one of the more remote churches. It was a sunny day and we set out on the dusty road in good spirits. It is exhilarating to ride on the motorcycle – you experience the scenery and the people in a whole different way. But some of the magic started to wear off when we started on the bumpy part of the road. The driver seemed determined to be first in the group and would just plow straight over the potholes to get ahead. This does not make for a very comfortable ride (to say the least). It became a not-so-subtle form of spinal compression! We drove thru mud and small lakes and then had to walk a half an hour through swampy land to find a 12 year old girl and a 6 year old boy whose mother had just died and left 6 kids behind. They lived in the flatlands – a big difference from the endless hills of the Kangundo area. After finishing their interview we were off again – after a half an hour we arrived at the base of Mount Kilomonbogo. We left our drivers behind and began the long trek to a small 6 year old’s home where he lived with his almost-blind grandfather. He was born in Nairobi and his grandfather didn’t even know he existed until his daughter died from AIDS. We met the boy at his school – he had no shoes and his uniform was tattered and torn. At the school we also met another 6 year old boy and 8 year old girl whose mother and father both died of AIDS. Each one was just as ragged and pitiful as the rest.
The school was incredible – as soon as I walked into the schoolyard all the kids came running. Just when I was in danger of being totally mobbed two older boys with switches came and made them back away (and hit them with the stick if they didn’t move fast enough – these were clearly the playground enforcers!) As I walked they followed me – but if I stopped and turned around they stopped too. It was soooo funny – kind of like in the cartoons. Their faces were bright and curious – I wished so much that I could talk to them. I found that they didn’t understand a word of Nepali.... (my first impulse is always to speak Nepali to foreign children) But children everywhere understand smiles – and they love having their pictures taken. Of course there is always the one who has to trample all the rest of the children to make sure he is in every single picture. Some things don’t change no matter which country you are in! It was fun to spend time at the school with them – but I cringed hearing all the coughing and sicknesses and skin diseases that were probably going unnoticed. I was saddened by eye infections and crossed eyes and disabilities that ought not to go without treatment. But this is rural Africa – not even one child was wearing shoes!
After visiting with one more family and hearing one more extremely sad story, we got on the bikes to head home. I was enjoying everything around me as we cut thru the countryside – the bluest of skies filled with giant fluffy white clouds. The lush green plants in contrast to the red Kenyan dirt. Brightly colored birds and flowers of all colors. It was stunning. But as I pondered the other things we had seen that day – the suffering, the bereaved, the sick, and the abjectly poor, the sadness of it all overcame me. Tears streaked across my face as I wondered how we were going to help all of these children. Every one we have seen so far needs to be rescued – but we can only do it one life at a time. The weight of the choosing feels like more than I can bear sometimes and thinking how to tell someone who has been given a shred of hope that you cannot do anything for them at this time after all seems to be the cruelest of acts.
We had been on a 6 hour bouncy motorcycle trip (by the end of the day I was sure I was at least one inch shorter) gone thru drenching rain, gotten stuck in the mud, trekked thru a swamp and climbed up and down the base of a mountain to find these children. It made me think of the story of the lost sheep and the great lengths that God goes to bring one of his little ones home. May God give us wisdom to know which of His sheep He has sent us out after and grace to comfort those we cannot help.
May you have a blessed Easter Resurrection Sunday as we celebrate the new life we have in Christ because HE LIVES!! But don’t just celebrate the Good News this Easter – share it with someone who doesn’t know it – there are lost sheep around you too today.
ready to hit the road again,
diane
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