A stretching week, one I will never forget

After language lessons last Tuesday morning Tyler remembered that he had to go to court - sounds sketchy I know :) but last week he was pulled over for a faulty brake light and instead of paying a bribe like the policeman wanted he was taken to the station and given this court date. Alll he had to do was plead guilty pay the fine and we could both get to work.  So I decided to go with him.

On the way there we saw a crowd of people stoning someone, we learned later it was a thief - I felt sick to my stomach about the scene just a minute from our apt.

We got to the court and as we were waiting I took a 30 second work call in the lobby of the court building. As soon as I hung up there were two policeman grabbing my arms and dragging me into the packed court room, Ty was on their heels saying "kwa nini" why? They shoved us into a back room and ordered is into a jail cell, we refused because we were so confused as to why they were so upset with me. We learned much later that they had grounds to arrest me for talking on
my cell phone! Ty was on the phone with the embassy within two minutes, they could not really do anything at that point. We just wanted to know if it was normal for them to hold us that way. We were a little flustered, especially me because I felt so guilty that I was the reason they were so harsh with us!

This court is also in the middle of the slum where I work, so the men in handcuffs we were rubbing shoulders with were intimidating to say the least. We waited in the dark, urine permeated holding area for the next 3 hours. They then allowed us to wait in the court for 2 hours. I was really having to sort through and process the awful way in which we were being treated, especially because I have tried so desperately to work and help in that community.
 

While we were being held, Tyler missed his name being called and a warrant was issued for his arrest.  When we learned that the warrant was issued we asked a policewoman to assist us.  She was able to help with some of the paper work and Ty finally stood before the court, plead guilty and we were released.

We then had to drive across town to drop mail off and on our way home saw a dead body on the side of the road.  Please know this is not normal, but police do not always get to the scene as fast as they should, so sometimes things are left for the public to see for quite awhile after.

I did get angry in the holding area at one point wondering why they were so keen on making sure we "criminals" were held while there are men like the ones who rape some of the young girls at our school roaming free.... Ahh the injustice sometimes! Also the thief who would never get a chance to even plead his case, mob justice decided his fate for him.

At work on Wednesday morning we had a missions team from Atlanta doing an HIV/Aids presentation, during their talk we heard “pop, pop, pop” noises outside.  As I looked out the school windows, I saw smoke rising from tear gas police had set off just beyond the railway tracks that border our school yard.  The Kenya Power and Lighting Company had come to cut illegal electrical wires in Kibera.  There are actually not very many legal wires; many people just tap into the existing wires for their homes and businesses.  As one can imagine, this made people very upset and they began rioting.  After an hour or so… the crowds calmed and we resumed work.

A couple of hours later, we heard shouting again up on the railway tracks, except this time, people were tearing up the tracks!  They had just received word that Uganda had placed its flag on a disputed island within Lake Victoria.  The island is disputed for several reasons, but mostly because it is a huge contributor to the fishing industry Western Kenya relies upon.  The Kenyans in Kibera, from the same tribe as those in Western Kenya, thought that by ripping up the railway tracks that lead to Uganda, they could harm their economy.  The riot reached the edge of the road where our office is located; we had a short day wanting to exit before things got ugly.

Thursday morning, the last day of the HIV/Aids education for the high school girls was taking place.  Around lunch time, one of our students came to me and said “Lydia, I think I did something bad.” This student is the head boy of the school, so it wasn’t something I took lightly… he told me that a journalist had come to the school and wanted to cover the events of the day before.  Knowing residents of Kibera might not enjoy an outsider taking shots of the damage that was done the day before to the railway, he wanted a student to bring him closer to “the scene”, so he could get in and get out quickly.  This student brought him to the railway tracks and returned to the school.  Moments later, a crowd formed around the journalist and began questioning his purpose in taking pictures.  They decided he must pay for coming in like that to take pictures, they threatened to beat him.  Knowing his life was in danger, the journalist lied and said he was a teacher at our school.  The crowd dragged him there and called for the head boy, the very student who brought him in and asked him to verify his claim.  The head boy said “yes, he is a teacher”, knowing that if he told the truth they would stone him right then and there.  They wanted teachers to verify this as well. 

As this was going on, my boss, First Love Kenya’s director (Chris) approached the crowd and pleaded with them to let the man go.  The crowd did not like the interference, as Chris was speaking with them, the journalist broke free and went to hide under the school buildings.  The crowd could not enter the school yard, but stood on top of the latrines that border it and were up on the hill/railway tracks looking down into the yard.  They began directing their anger at Chris and threw stones at him and another teacher.  Chris was hit in the ear pretty badly and began bleeding.  Through it all though, he was very calm, he walked back to the office and cleaned himself up.  He said he couldn’t just let an innocent man die, he had to do something. 

At that point, we knew we would have to get the team out of Kibera, it was just a matter of when.  I popped my head outside to see if the crowd was still gathered and when I did, a few yelled “mzungo!” or white person.  I was a little nervous at that point, because the way they said “mzungo!”, I could tell we were going to have an interesting time leaving.  I was right, within minutes, the Director’s wife came in the office saying they were going to stone our cars no matter when we left.  We got the team together and quickly piled into the vans.  Rocks began flying as our caravan of three vehicles, sped as quickly as they could up the steep hill to the main road.  The team began praying right away and God brought us out of there safely.

Friday we determined it was not yet safe to go into the school, so I was going to work from home.  I received a call from my dear friend Agnes who I’ve been working with on card projects.  She informed me that her daughter was going into labor.  They were walking to a clinic in Kibera as we spoke.  I was at the store when she called so I picked up newborn diapers, a baby blanket, and some baby outfits (she was two weeks early, so I wasn’t quite prepared J).  They arrived at the clinic and Emily began having complications, she had not eaten the night before so they said the baby was tired “Ame choka”.  They tried giving her an IV, but after awhile they determined that they would need to transfer her to a hospital.  I was trying to coordinate a taxi to come get them, because I knew I couldn’t make it in time, I would just meet them at the hospital.  The clinic, however, determined that it was too much of an emergency so they brought her in one of the clinic vans. 

As I arrived on the hospital grounds, Agnes called me and said “mtoto amekufa” – the baby is dead.  I was devastated.  I spent the next two hours there with Agnes, we were eventually allowed to see Emily.  She was limp and crying silently in a room where other mothers were recovering from labor.  I thought it was so awful that Emily had to lay there listening to the newborn cries of the other babies next to her, other families coming in to congratulate their loved one, and the prayers prayed thanking God for the precious new life…. She cried even more when the prayers began.  She was praying in her own way I suppose, asking God “why?”  I held her hand and whispered in her ear that one day she was going to make the most beautiful mom, although we don’t understand why it was not going to happen now, she would have a family someday… and her children would be her joy. 

She stayed overnight and the next morning I returned with my friend Abby, Agnes, and her friends Angeline, and another Agnes.  Emily was still weak, but was discharged later in the day.  I have asked so many questions since last Tuesday, mostly about justice and injustice.  Ironically, I spoke at a Refugee Women’s Support group on Sunday and the topic they asked me to speak on was “enduring hardship.”  My first thought was that the women in the group knew much more about enduring hardship than I do and hopefully ever will, but I knew that the events of last week could be used as I encouraged the ladies to cling to our heavenly father during such times.  That is the only way one can make it through hardships without ending up insane, our God is a God of peace and his strength and hope are such a foundation in such shaky times. 

Today was the saddest day thus far.  We arrived at the morgue to retrieve the baby’s body for burial.  Upon entering, I saw two children’s bodies stacked on top of their mama who was also deceased, they were new additions, no sheet to cover them… just dead, lifeless bodies with little white tags on their fingers to identify them.  We went to the cooler with the sign that said “0-2 years old”.  It smelled of formaldehyde.   It is very Kenyan for close friends and family members to all go to the morgue together to see the body before the burial.

After the baby was in the casket we sang songs and prayed in the chapel outside the mortuary.  Emily stood at the head of the casket and when they opened the top, she began weeping uncontrollably.  I began sobbing too, the little baby girl was beautiful.  It was so sad to see the mom crying over her baby’s casket.  We made our way to the cemetery and placed a small white cross on her grave after the funeral.  There were many friends who came out to support the family, it was encouraging to see their community support them the way they did.

Please say a prayer if you think of it for the families of the thief who was stoned to death and the other man on the road.  Also, please pray for continued safety working in Kibera and healing for Emily and their family during this difficult time.  Asante.