I have come that all may have life and have it to the fullest.John 10:10
The month of April has been nothing short of hilarious. It has been crazy and hectic, but also full of laughter and adventure! As in December, all of the Kenyan schools close for a month-long holiday and students go home to their families. This meant that the last weeks of March were filled with marking exams, filling out report forms, and saying goodbye to my students and my home for five weeks. As Kari and I left Icaciri, we prepared to go to Arusha, Tanzania where we thought we would be working this month. Little did we know what was in store for us. At 7:30 on the morning of April 11, we boarded a bus to Tanzania with only a business card and the vague idea that we would be working at Enaboishu Secondary School. Well arrive in Arusha we did, only to find out that the headmaster (whose business card we had been given) was out of town at a regional conference. We also quickly realized that the school to which we had been sent was a private school, fully staffed with teachers and 3 British volunteers to do any extra work. Not exactly what we were expecting! 3 days after arriving in Arusha, we boarded a bus back to Nairobi.
After the Arusha debaucle, I began to wonder if anything was going to work out or if we would spend the month of April wondering from place to place. Early Monday morning after our return, Kari and I met with a PCEA minister, Rev Harrison who recently moved to Nairobi from a church in Mombasa on the Kenyan coast. He assured us that he would find us a placement on the coast and let us know by the next day. True to his word, he contacted us Tuesday morning to say that everything was set, so Tuesday night we boarded an overnight bus to Mombasa with nothing but a name and a phone number to call once we arrived. I must say that by this point I was more than a little doubtful about the situation. As it turns out, this proved to be one of the best experiences I have had in Kenya. Kari and I lived with the Kamau family near Mtwapa and walked to work each day at the Shanzu Orphans Home (SOH) nearby. SOH is a beautiful place that houses 21 children from the ages of 2-15. One would normally think of an orphanage as a bleak, depressing place, but SOH is full of life and energy. Since the kids were also out of school for the holiday, we spent our time with them singing songs, teaching them the "Chicken Dance," and taking the older boys to the beach to play soccer. I think Kari and I had as much fun as the children!
Mombasa, as an area, is different than any other part of Kenya I have visited thus far, as it is bombarded every year with European tourists. This influx of people and money sets up a dynamic unlike any I have ever experienced. Aged German, Swiss, and British tourists walk hand-in-hand with beautiful young Kenyans, making child prostitution one of Mombasa's most lucrative ventures. As I looked at the children we worked and played with each day, it was horrifying to consider their options outside of SOH. I had a long talk with Baba Kamau one night about the sex trade on the coast and how poor children continue to fall victim to this gross exploitation. Our walk each day to SOH provided a perfect example of the conditions that allow such perversions to continually occur: just across the road from the luxurious beach resorts is a thatch-roofed village of shanty houses where the workers live with their families. The people in these homes do what it takes to survive.
As April began, my mind was a flurry of doubts and questions raised by much of what I have seen this year. Answers are not easy to find, but on April 7, something wonderful happened... Easter. I have begun to realize that all of the pain and suffering that we see in the world, all of the cries for justice, find their answer in the cross. The obscenity of a seven year old girl infected with HIV is reflected in the scandal of our crucified Lord. All of our suffering is heard in His cries.
I walked into worship Easter morning only half-believing that it would be any different than other Sundays. I left that morning knowing that pain cannot have the final word, because the cross is not the end. Easter dawns and with it dawns the promise that in the end, darkness will not prevail. The risen Christ offers us the healing and the redemption that we all so desperately need.
Our students sing a Swahili song that I think expresses this idea perfectly:
After the Arusha debaucle, I began to wonder if anything was going to work out or if we would spend the month of April wondering from place to place. Early Monday morning after our return, Kari and I met with a PCEA minister, Rev Harrison who recently moved to Nairobi from a church in Mombasa on the Kenyan coast. He assured us that he would find us a placement on the coast and let us know by the next day. True to his word, he contacted us Tuesday morning to say that everything was set, so Tuesday night we boarded an overnight bus to Mombasa with nothing but a name and a phone number to call once we arrived. I must say that by this point I was more than a little doubtful about the situation. As it turns out, this proved to be one of the best experiences I have had in Kenya. Kari and I lived with the Kamau family near Mtwapa and walked to work each day at the Shanzu Orphans Home (SOH) nearby. SOH is a beautiful place that houses 21 children from the ages of 2-15. One would normally think of an orphanage as a bleak, depressing place, but SOH is full of life and energy. Since the kids were also out of school for the holiday, we spent our time with them singing songs, teaching them the "Chicken Dance," and taking the older boys to the beach to play soccer. I think Kari and I had as much fun as the children!
Mombasa, as an area, is different than any other part of Kenya I have visited thus far, as it is bombarded every year with European tourists. This influx of people and money sets up a dynamic unlike any I have ever experienced. Aged German, Swiss, and British tourists walk hand-in-hand with beautiful young Kenyans, making child prostitution one of Mombasa's most lucrative ventures. As I looked at the children we worked and played with each day, it was horrifying to consider their options outside of SOH. I had a long talk with Baba Kamau one night about the sex trade on the coast and how poor children continue to fall victim to this gross exploitation. Our walk each day to SOH provided a perfect example of the conditions that allow such perversions to continually occur: just across the road from the luxurious beach resorts is a thatch-roofed village of shanty houses where the workers live with their families. The people in these homes do what it takes to survive.
As April began, my mind was a flurry of doubts and questions raised by much of what I have seen this year. Answers are not easy to find, but on April 7, something wonderful happened... Easter. I have begun to realize that all of the pain and suffering that we see in the world, all of the cries for justice, find their answer in the cross. The obscenity of a seven year old girl infected with HIV is reflected in the scandal of our crucified Lord. All of our suffering is heard in His cries.
I walked into worship Easter morning only half-believing that it would be any different than other Sundays. I left that morning knowing that pain cannot have the final word, because the cross is not the end. Easter dawns and with it dawns the promise that in the end, darkness will not prevail. The risen Christ offers us the healing and the redemption that we all so desperately need.
Our students sing a Swahili song that I think expresses this idea perfectly:
Mambo sawa sawa.
Mambo sawa sawa.
Yesu akiwa enzini.
Mambo sawa sawa.
Which in English translates:
Things are already better.
Things are already better.
When the Lord is on the throne,
Things are already better.
We live in a post-Easter world, our Lord is alive and on the throne, the healing has begun.
Peace to you all,
Lauren
