Hanging out with women on death row

Walking into the big, intimidating doors of the prison I had no idea that the female inmates would be showing me how to have a real, celebratory Christmas party.  We had two Christmas parties this week.  The first was with women who are awaiting trial - some have been there for just a few days, others for years.  We started by giving them sodas and sweet bread.  They loved it and showered verbal blessings on us for such a kind gesture.  Sweet bread - wow - it really is the little things....

We began by hearing the prison choir which is actually quite good.  They sing in Kiswahili and I am begining to catch on to some of the choruses.  Then we moved into an impromptu time of singing, in which each tribe represented in the prison was able to get up and sing a Christmas song in their mother tongue and dance in a way native to their region.  Tears welled up in my eyes as I watched each group get up and share from their heart, Kikuyu, Luya, Masaii... I felt the Lord speaking to my heart - "this is just a glimpse of what you will see in heaven.... every tribe and tongue will be represented - all will be singing my praises".  I was so blessed by such a beautiful expression of love for our Lord.  I had the chance to share with the women a bit when our team was introduced.  I greeted them in Kiswahili and they cheered (I don't know if they are used to wazungo (white people) speaking Kiswahili).  I told them that their dancing and worship blessed the women on our team, but more importantly it made the heart of our God in heaven pleased.  He saw it as beautiful.  

Yesterday, we had our second party at the main prison.  I went with a small group to share sweet bread and soda with the women on death row.  Kenya does execute its prisoners, so they are called "condemned."  There were 43 women and I was able to share with them that they were beautiful.  They really were - I know they must have done something horrific to be in such a terrible place for the rest of their lives - but I couldn't help but see them as beautiful and dearly loved by the Lord.  Our fearless leader Alice and I had the opportunity to pray over a woman who was experiencing severe head pain, she had collapsed in a backroom on a dirty mattress.  I hugged and greeted as many women as I could and during our closing time of worship I put my arm around one of the toughest looking woman I have ever seen.  Her name was Esther.  It took her only a second to wrap her arm around my waist.  I held the tears back as we stood arm in arm praising our God together. 

HOPE – God has been teaching me a bit about this word lately...

Today as we were nearing the end of our Bible study where we are studying human dignity and poverty and what God thinks about it all, a wonderful thing happened. As I sat there thinking about heading to the slum after discussing the ills of poverty and holding the hands of children who don’t know what it’s like to eat three square meals a day…. My co-worker was sharing about a widow we met last week. She started by saying it is so important that we, as Christians go to where those in need are at (whether they are across the street, across town, or across the ocean), to meet them on their terms, and get in right there with them to attempt to understand their situation. We spent time in this widow’s home, learned about the tragic death of her husband during the post election violence here in Kenya, and how her family had not eaten for three days prior (we were able provide groceries for her after this visit).

This woman is a trained seamstress and only needs a sewing machine, as well as a bit of business in order to support her family again. After this need was expressed, another member of the Bible study mentioned that they had a spare sewing machine that was ours if we wanted it and promptly made arrangements to have it delivered at four o’clock. Another member of the Bible study shared that she had planned on ordering 13 school uniforms the next day at a store, but instead asked if she could order them from this woman and be her first customer! The group was astounded – a need was displayed – and the body of Christ came around so instantaneously- we knew that only God could orchestrate something so wonderful. As we prayed to end our time, I was near tears thinking about God’s provision for this family.

The sewing machine is beautiful. It is sitting in our office now. It is not beautiful because of the way it looks; it is beautiful because it is a symbol of a HOPE fulfilled. I am learning that God is all about shining his brilliant rays of HOPE into a seemingly hopeless situation, the rays are much more noticeable that way.  One of the questions we ask (even though it is a difficult question) families when we visit their homes is "where do you see God in your situation, if at all?".  The answers are always different, but it forces us to ask the same question of ourselves.  Although we know that God is everywhere and watches over everything - I think we assume he isn't in a situation or pouring out that hope if it is not going the way we think it should go.  God's ideas and plans for things span far beyond my own limited concept of HOPE.  I pray he continues to expand my idea of not only hope, but grace, mercy, love, joy, and forgiveness (to name a few!) - he seems to be in the business of fulfilling these very things in our lives and those around us every day - we just have to notice. 

Bazaar

"Imagine, last night, my children and I went to bed hungry, now today, I have money to buy food for my family!”

Last Saturday, this was said by a woman living in Kibera who had the opportunity to sell her hand-made cards at a bazaar held at a local school.   We met this mother of two students at the school.  She came in to our office a couple of weeks ago just hours after her husband had strangled and almost killed her.  This was not the first time she had been abused by him.  That very day First Love called a new landlord and assisted her in moving into a new home.  Since then she has been making greeting cards to support her family.  She only needed a market in which to sell her beautiful product.

I picked the women up at about 7:30 just outside of Kibera.  Two of the women, Carolyn and Doris had their jewelry in hand ready to sell it in a formal market for the first time.  Doris is the mother of a two month old baby.  She is HIV-Aids positive and is currently awaiting the positive/negative results for her precious baby, Denmark.  Agnes was dressed in her best, also ready for this exciting new opportunity.  I didn’t really think about the importance of this day for these women.  The chance to display the products they had worked so hard to create, practice at making change from large bills, and explaining the different pieces to potential buyers. 

The day became hot, but these women’s smiles only became wider as it wore on.  By the end of the day, these women had sold enough to make the equivalent of two months of work as a casual laborer.  They grinned from ear to ear as we tore down the table and display, their smiles continued throughout the dusty drive home, and as we dropped them back in Kibera, these women looked different.  They looked different because they carried themselves in a distinct manner. They held their heads high as they proudly returned to their small dwellings to tell their children that they would not go to bed hungry that night.

Watching Denmark as the women sell their wares

God is in it

Today I went running through the Kibera slum. It was one of those things that if I would have thought about it longer than 30 seconds I probably would not have gone. We have six kids that are going to run a 10K race here in Nairobi in one week. We have to train and Kibera to these kids is not a dangerous, overpopulated place, it is their neighborhood. It was our only option as the space outside their school was muddy from the heavy rain last night. A couple of orphans from First Love’s girl’s home joined us, as well as the “aunty”. We were quite a site, 6 Kenyan juniors, 3 from the First Love home, and me, the muzungo (white person). We had little kids following us for blocks chanting “mzungo, muzungo” and “run faster!” – I wonder if they were talking to me? Swerving pot holes, raw sewage, and crazy matatus, we found ourselves running along the infamous train tracks that were filmed in the movie “Constant Gardener.” The run ended when we entered the school gate and the students who had stuck around after school began cheering for their unofficial cross country team. It was exhilarating and the best training run I have ever had!

We interviewed a girl named Phoebe today who needs a sponsor. She was precious and quiet like most 10 year old girls who have been through something like she has would be. She is cared for by her aunt after her parents were both hacked to death in the post election violence. Phoebe and her two younger siblings leave their home at 5:00 am so that she can arrive in time for the 7:00 am start to school. A two hour walk to school. I kept thinking about her parents tonight and their tragic, unnecessary deaths. I was reminded that yesterday as I sat in a hospital waiting room for 3 hours (I was accompanying my friend Agnes for a checkup, who last year was severely burned after a man threw gasoline on her and then lit her on fire) I saw two women who had survived the post-election violence. They were hiding in a church that was locked and doused with gasoline before it was lit on fire. The church had 50 women and children in it. Oh God, I don’t understand. These women had burn scars covering their face. Despite the apparent physical pain, they smiled contagiously and after emerging from the waiting room enjoyed the beautiful sun pouring down on the lusciously green Rift Valley.

Every day I feel like I have been given a rare gift. It is a gift from God in which I am allowed a glimpse of what just might go on at the core of his heart every day. Everyday God’s heart rejoices in our accomplishments, laughter, and rare peaceful moments. But thankfully because he is a real, live God he knows that life is not always so blissful. His heart breaks much more than ours ever could because he experiences not only my pain, but Phoebe’s when she found out about her parents being brutally killed, Agnes as the gasoline doused her skin and the fire spread over her face and neck, and he was even there with those precious children and women who sought false refuge in the church building. God carries that weight that I only get a glimpse of when I happen to hear a story or witness someone’s wounds. I am glad I am not God. I am glad I praise a God who is much bigger than this world’s sadness and destruction. I worship and have devoted my life to a God whose heart not only breaks when ours does, his power heals, restores, and gives us the courage to rejoice again and treasure that peace.

Two slums and a prison

Thursday was my most interesting day yet here in the great city of Nairobi. Our friends Michael and Mya are here visiting from the States, they have been so wonderful helping us out as we transition from the Dellamater’s home to our own apartment. So, back to Thursday, Michael and I started the day in Kibera at the Raila Educational Center where First Love works. After visiting some classrooms and playing tag with kids we headed to the Mitumba slum.

We were told that Mitumba was even more impoverished than Kibera, I thought “Is that possible?.” It is. Mitumba is much smaller and is tucked in between an airport runway strip and a middle class neighborhood called South C. The school where First Love assists consists of tin shacks (they are not allowed to build permanent structures) and very, very old wood. While Heather and Karen (First Love’s social worker) handed out uniforms, Michael and I went on a tour of the poorest village I have ever seen. Before we entered this small child came running over to us, I wanted to scoop him up immediately but before I did Heather’s words, “not all children are potty trained” (even though they don’t have diapers) echoed in my head. I couldn’t resist this child who I later learned was named Clinton and 4 years old. He was way too small to be 4, with some of the chubbiest cheeks I had ever seen…. Which is why when I picked him up, even with his urine soaked pants I couldn’t put him down. I carried him throughout our walk and just kept thinking I am the luckiest girl in

the world to be walking through the narrow passage-ways in between the tin shacks carrying this boy who clearly just wanted to be loved on. As we returned to the school I brought the boy back to where I picked him up and chatted with some women and other children who should have been in school. I could only think about how difficult it is for these families and in some cases orphans, to cover the seemingly daunting school fee amount and how easy it would be for someone outside of their community to cover their minimal school fees.

After giving the middle school age girls a pair of underwear and a pack of donated maxi pads, Karen gave the girls a demonstration on how to use the pads. I thought about how normally that is something a mom, big sister, or friend might show you how to do – but many of the women in their life have probably never had the privilege of using such sanitary products so they wouldn’t have a clue as to how to use them.

After Mitumba, I made my way to the women’s prison. Our first Sunday here, the church we attended highlighted a prison ministry for women. I was immediately intrigued as they talked about the women they visited on death row who had not had visitors in as long as 15 years. Capital punishment is against the law, so they are not really on death row, it is only a label for the most severe convicted offenders. I met the other women from the church outside the prison where we prayed for our time. As we entered the prison, I was almost brought to tears simply at the sight of the over 200 women gathered for our time. They were wearing hospital gown type uniforms, some gray some white. The women in white were awaiting trial for more petty crimes while the women in gray were awaiting trial for a murder arrest. We began our time of worship and unlike other prisons I had been to, I was trying to imagine the types of crimes they may had committed. I felt like the Lord slowly broke my heart more and more, as he said “Lydia, my heart breaks for these women, the world may see criminals, but I see one of my children who has been so broken and hurt that she was desperate enough to do the act that brought her here”. They looked so vulnerable in their gowns. I sat next to a few of them as we heard the lesson given on overcoming fear. After I learned their names and was able to pray with them before we had to leave. I could only say to myself “wow” after that day – I felt a little guilty grocery shopping for dinner that night – having the means to buy fresh food and cook in a kitchen bigger than most of the slum dweller’s homes. At the end of most days I have been exhausted, the good kind of exhausted where you feel like what you have seen and experienced is so out of the norm all you can do is think, pray, and sleep so that the next day you have the appropriate amount of strength to do it all over again.

Hi! And Welcome!

Hi, thank you so much for "clicking" this far into the site! I am very new to this blog thing so I really appreciate you taking the time to read this. Last fall, we began praying and thinking about the jourey we are beginning this fall - moving, working, and living in Kenya. I am so excited that God has brought us this far, to the point where we have sent out letters letting others know about our move, beginning to think about packing arrangements, and sitting down with our bosses to tell them we will no longer be working for them 9-5. My prep for Kenya has been basic thus far, but much more so than any other trip I have ever been on or move I have ever made. The night before I left for Ecuador, I packed at midnight and was still working on pronouncing the name of the city I would be living in: "Gua-ya-quil".... the same with almost every other trip. Kenya is different for many reasons, I have a husband this time (awesome!) (we have to watch out for eachother, I no longer feel invincible), we are going for at least a year, and Africa in general has been on my heart since I was a little girl - I feel like I have so many expectations-yet I cannot comprehend the feeling I will have the first time I lay my eyes on the infamous Kibera slum.