Njeri

Sometime last week Anthony was called to Jamaica base for some first aid treatment. A lot of times he or Kennedy will be called after someone has been in a fight or hurt themselves; the reasons are endless. Not much later Ann received a phone call from Anthony; it was urgent, and she left right away. After a few hours, we started getting worried. Ann had left her phone and we couldn't reach her... We didn't know what had happened or where they were. I went to bed, leaving the light on for Ann in case she came back late. When I woke up in the morning, Ann's bed was still empty. They hadn't returned.

A couple hours later, a very tired Ann came home. She explained that when she got to Jamaica base, the woman had been beaten severely and her injuries were more than they could handle. They took her to the hospital. The hospitals in Kenya, I soon found out, are not at all what we know in the US. The need is so great and the waits are so long that people will be waiting in line to see the doctor and will sometimes die waiting. Once they were seen by the doctor, they found out that her injuries were too severe even for him, so they had to go to Kenyata, the national hospital. They found out that she was bleeding internally, hemmoraging, and they didn't really know how what kind of state her organs were in. But they did tell her that she needed surgery right away or she'd be dead within 2 weeks. A little while later, Anthony came back. He'd been busy helping get Njeri, the woman, into the hospital, and also tracking down the man that beat her. He was now in police custody, but there was still so much to be done with statements and what not. We tried to keep Anthony from going back out that night, because since he'd been dealing with the funeral arrangements for his friend, he'd been out every night raising money for the burial. He hadn't slept in 3 days, and probably hadn't eaten in just as many. He wouldn't hear of it, though, and left soon to take care of loose ends.

The next day I went with Anthony to see Njeri. When we arrived, I was shocked to find her in a community style room, sharing a twin-size bed with another woman. The hospital was so full that there were 2 people to every bed; one at the head, one at the foot. As soon as she saw us she started crying. Anthony had told me that she'd refused the surgery, as one of her friends died at Kenyata. Njeri tried to sit up, but was still so weak that Anthony had to pull her up. She leaned against me for support as she spoke with him. After a few moments, she started taking off all her cheap bracelets, earrings, and necklaces. Either her hands and wrists were swollen or the jewelry was too small because she couldn't get it off. Anthony and I had to force it off of her fingers and hands. As I stood there holding her, my heart broke over and over again as I realized that she would be gone in a couple of weeks because she wouldn't have the surgery. She was probably taking her jewelry off to give to somebody. We stayed for a few more minutes, and as Anthony prayed over her, I became angry and teary-eyed thinking about what she had gone through and where she would end up.

As we left her in that room, Anthony and I both had a hard time holding it together. I took her jewelry from him to put in my back and heard him whispering, "She will be okay. She will be okay.." over and over again. I felt at a loss... What could I do to comfort him when we both knew she'd be gone soon?

Once on the bus, he told me that he'd talked to her into having the surgery, which should take place the next morning. She wasn't allowed to have jewelry on during the procedure, which is why she gave it to us. A few minutes later, Anthony had fallen asleep, probably his first sleep in days.

On the day of the surgery, Anthony went to be with her, only to find out the doctors were discharging her from the hospital. They flushed her out (whatever that means) and told her to come back in two weeks. I was so confused and angry... Hadn't they told her that if she didn't have the surgery that she'd be dead in 2 weeks? Now were they sealing her death by sending her home and telling her to come back in 2 weeks?

****

From what I've been told, Njeri is being discharged today, many days after she was originally supposed to be discharged. There are plans to rent a house for her and her children for 2 months in Mathare, a local slum. The cost for a home made out of sheet metal and a mud floor is maybe $12 - 16 a month, give or take. Our hope is that she will gain enough strength to start some type of work and be able to pay the 3rd month's rent. Hopefully she will choose to stay in Mathare. Although it is a slum, it's still better than the streets.

The Unsavory Side of Life

Anthony, a former street guy/current employee of MITS, and I were walking through Eastleigh doing a quick base run. (Bases are where street kids live, be it a trash heap, alleyway, or the side of a building.) It had rained two nights in a row, so the streets were now lakes and sewage ran freely, sometimes gathering in a pothole where it would sit and become stagnant. People continue to stare at me as I walk down the streets. I was wearing my brother's shirt he and his partner created - the red one with the Canadian leaf that says "Eh?" I was pleasantly surprised as I passed a young street boy that looked at my shirt and exclaimed "Canada!"

Suddenly Anthony turned to me. "So, I found out that one of my friends that lives on the streets was killed this week," he said nonchalantly. "I learned of it yesterday. He and his friend were drunk. They'd gone to a bar and were very drunk. They were just hanging out. Then they got into a fight over 100 shillings. (close to 1.50 or so) The guy killed my friend. He chopped his head off." I stopped in my tracks, stunned beyond belief.. He kept going... "I went to the 7th street base and they told me what happened. A couple of days later the guy that killed him came back. He was drunk. He said he was sorry, but he didn't tell them what he did. He just said he was sorry, but that he needed food. They said to bring P- back and then apologize.. then they killed him, too." "Anthony... I am so sorry!" "No.. that's the street life. You die. You kill and you get sick, and you die. That is life."

I found out later that the guys at the 7th street base had called the police before killing him, which is extremely rare since they don't trust them. The police came, looked around, and then they left, basically silently giving them permission to do whatever they wanted to do with the guy. So, especially since the way their friend was killed, they killed him.

I am dumbfounded, shocked, words cannot explain it. My instict was to comfort Anthony for the loss of his friend, but he didn't need to be comforted.

This is life on the streets.

I Love You Like Fried Fish

It's not that easy, all this walking around pretending to have it together. It's not easy being comfortable. What is easy? That's a question I don't know the answer to anymore. I came to Nairobi on Sunday to work with street kids, and in those few days, they've undone me. Things I once held as important, correct, comforting are gone and only a figment of imagination in the life of a street child.

I've been staying at the drop-in-center in Eastleigh with the team. The first day there was "mom/kid" day, where all the street moms bring their kids, who are employed with some crafts and games of sorts while the moms play games and have a small lesson. Afterwards they have lunch together. Lunch usually consists of spiced rice with some fat chuncks.While the moms were playing games and singing, I saw a little girl on the floor crying. I went over to her and picked her up, only then realizing that she'd peed in her pants and her clothes were soaked in urine. Trying to ignore the smell,I took the lesso she was sitting on and put it underneath her while I held her. Her mom came over and gave her a little mini-toothpaste box, which she played with incessantly while I held her.After a little while I went into the pack patio area where different stations were set up for the little kids. They had puzzles, etcha-sketches, plato, etc. and were having the time of their lives. Supposedly they normally run around like little devils, but they were unusually calm this day. Soon enough I heard the all too familiar cry of "mazungu!" and I feel a hard slap on my rear.. I turn around to see a mischevious little girl, hair wild, with a huge grin.. She reached out to slap me again, so I went over before she was able to reach me and tickled her and all the others at her table. I spent the rest of their time going between tables and admiring all their work and puzzles, etc. ... They are starving for attention...

After lunch I crashed for a little bit, and then woke up to find two street girls washing their clothes outside. When I asked if I could help, one girl Carolyn, only laughed at me, but eventually said yes. When I tried washing them, she erupted in more laughter, unable to contain her amusement from my inability to handwash properly. She turned to Fatuma and told her something in Swahili. Fatuma turned to me and said, "She says you do not know how to wash. ..But at least you are trying." I spent maybe an hour with them washing their clothes, their babies' clothes, rinsing, laughing.. Baba, Fatuma's little boy, started crying, and so she picks him up and starts nursing him right then and there. I've seen it a lot here, but I'm still not use to the freedom in NOT covering up. Soon enough he starts up again, and this time she pulls his pants off and takes a rag and wipes his bottom. (I was secretly praying that she would wash that one before she gave it to me to wash the second time.) Lily, Carolyn's daughter, was over in the corner playing with the wall (kind of entertaining to watch) when she started crying.. I went over to pick her up and suddenly felt a wet spot on my jeans. Oh yes. It's what you think.

We went to bed pretty early that night and woke up a little early as well. Tuesdays are the guy days where boys come, have games and a lesson and lunch. At the same time that they started, I went with Anthony and Ann to town (Nairobi) to look for pregnant street girls. We walked around for a while before finding any street people at all. They'd been chased away that morning by the police, so they wouldn't be back till night. We finally came across a family, maybe 6 or 7 people, all drugged up on the side of the way. The mom was semi force feeding her kid ugali and vegetables, while one of the family members was passed out beside her. He had flies crawling all over his face, in and out of his mouth. He never stirred. Ann and Tony started speaking to them, which I assume was about finding the pregnant girls. They pointed us to a nearby alley. Ann and Tony debated whether or not to go, probably because I was with them, but we went. As we walked down the alley, I almost stepped in what I can only assume to be human feces, and actually did somewhat step in the sewage. (Note: Always wear closed-toed shoes when walking through alley ways to look for street children.) There were a bunch of guys playing cards of some sort, and a mother lying on a piece of plastic with her baby beside her. They started talking again and told us that there were pregnant street girls around, but that they'd been chased away that morning and that we could only find them at night. The team has never gone out at night because its too dangerous, so I know they'd especially not go out since I'm with them. I'm not sure yet what's going to happen with that.

Later that afternoon, we went around Eastleigh to the different bases (places where different groups of street kids gather) to ask them to bring the pregnant girls to us. So many of them were as high as could possibly be. I could smell the glue on their breaths. Some of them were playing some sort of gambling game with shells. While there, one boy came up to me and said "I love you like fried fish!" I assume that's a good compliment, only because they probably never get to eat fried fish, and when they do, it's a huge treat. And as I was ever so kindly walking away from him, he yelled out that he would treat me good.. I'm sure he would. Another boy came up to me and told me, "Oh.. when I see you I recognize Mary, mother of Jesus. " Let me tell you, these street boys sure know how to use their pick up lines! :)

(I will explain later about the personal challenges that have gone along with this. I've been on for a while now and cannot connect to the blog site or to email, so this is my temporary posting. I hope to update often with stories of the kids I encounter and the challenges they bring.)

Made In the Streets

When we went to Nairobi to pick up Benjamin, we stayed with the Conways, missionaries that work with the street kids in Nairobi. They are teamed with an organization called Made In the Streets. They also have a farm about 45 minutes outside Nairobi which is the next step in the rehabilitation program. They get the kids far enough away from the city to remove them from the bad circumstances that keep them in the streets. They educate them and teach them a trade. When they are 18, the kids are responsible for starting their lives back in society using the skills taught to them at the farm.

Hollye took us to the drop in center in Eastleigh one day where we met Tony, Willy, Ken and Ann, the 4 young adults that work at the center. We'd read Tony and Ken's stories before meeting them, so I knew what they'd lived through. Talk about the grace of God... They came from really bad family situations which forced them out on the streets to living a life of ministry to those they'd coexisted with. They lead lives of drugs, stealing, etc. I was amazed at the change in their lives, and even more so at their love for the kids around them. Tony and Ken had gone on to form a rap group with 3 others. A ministry in town helped them make their first cd and music video. They are suprisingly very talented!

The first day at Made In the Streets was spent with some street girls. We played games and sang songs and then listened as Ann gave a devotional in Kiswahili. All of the girls there were 17 or under. One of them was expecting her first child at 17 years. After that time was over, we went next door to eat with Ken, Tony, Ann and Willy, and we talked about the boys here in Kapsabet and Eldoret and how to handle them. It was so wonderful to receive encouragement from people that had once lived as these boys. It was really affirming in that any kind of love and attention that we give these kids is more than they are getting, and that even though we leave soon, to love them now is better than not loving them at all.

The next day, Hollye took us back to Eastleigh were we went to a soccer game. All of the different groups of street boys compete against eachother. There were so many street kids there... We sat down on the grass and were just surrounded by them. A few in particular caught my attention. Francis, a 14 or 15 year old boy with a slur, sat down and talked to us the entire time we were there. Any time we'd ask him something, he'd reply "Yer!" (yes) in his little high pitched voice. Another man whose name I don't remember sat with us and sang songs with us. Francis joined in as well. We stayed like this for at least an hour or two, just soaking up the sun and enjoying each other's company.

As we left, we crossed over the soccer field and entered an area with really thick bushes/foliage.. I'm not exactly sure what it was. We walked down a small dirt path, which was lined with sewage and a brick wall. Every now and then we'd see trampled down grass with scattered clothes and human feces. We realized people actually slept there. We finally came to a small clearing where people had made make-shift huts out of plastic tarps and wood and string - a small slum hidden behind a dump. We were told that one of the women here had recently lost two family members. We went over with Hollye to talk to her. While we were there, we saw two baby girls lying in the dirt covered in flies. One of them started sobbing as she saw us. The flies were all over her face, her nose, her mouth. The other one also started crying as we talked to her. They'd never seen whites before. I think all of us wanted to take them home with us... We continued on and crossed through the dump. There were people sifting through the trash trying to find anything of value that they could sell. On the other side of the heap was a space where people had set out goods to sell.

On our way back to the center, a bunch of children came running towards us shouting "Wazungu!!" They ran up to me and threw their little arms around my legs and wouldn't let go. I held their hands, sometimes two or three at a time, and we walked on. Some finally saw Morgan and ran to her. Then a little later a few more attached themselves to Ben and Leah. We walked on holding their hands, swinging them in the air and tickling them. You'd think they'd never been held before... they just soaked it up! Upon returning to the center, the boys that had been playing soccer were all fed (109 in all) and then had a short devo. Then they let the kids in and we started playing again.

I left there so dirty, covered in grime, but so content and more in love than ever with those kids. I hated to leave them, but it really reaffirmed that I want to work with children like that. They were so happy while playing. Its probably one of the only times they ever get to laugh...

- Gloria

Jackson and Kevin

When we arrived back in Kapsabet from Nairobi, we were soon approached by two street boys Kevin and Jackson. They wanted the usual.. food or money. We told them that we wouldn't buy them anything, maybe another day. I somewhat admire/dislike their persistence. Instead we told them we wanted to be friends, rafiki, and that we wanted to visit with them. I don't really think they understood. We taught them our names, and told them that we didn't want to be called wazungu anymore. Kevin always forgets and calls me wazungu, and I only have to give him a look and he remembers. "Eh wazungu,... er, Gloria!" to which we laugh and give a thumbs up.

I see them every time I come to Kapsabet. This time, however, Kevin was as high as a kite. He was waiting outside the cafe when Morgan and I came out. He immediately asked for food. I told him I would give him food if he'd collect bottle caps for me. (I'm using them to make windchimes with the 4th graders.) I don't know if he understood or not. He just kind of stared past our heads with a glazed expression and made noises of understanding. But when I saw him again in the same place, he walked toward me with a huge grin on his face and he was carrying a mud brick. Jackson followed close behind. I asked him, "Kevin, what is that? Where are the bottle caps? That's not a bottle cap!" He muttered something that I didn't understand and threw the brick down. I asked him again where the bottle caps were, and he motioned over towards the grass. I followed him over. He reached down and picked up his bottle of glue and held it up with a huge grin. "But that's not what I told you to do.. I said if you picked up bottle tops, I would give you mandazi." He nodded in understanding. Jackson came up and said he wanted food. I explained my proposition and he seemed to understand. We'll find out after we leave here if they really understood.

- Gloria

Collins & Meshack

We left early in the morning to catch our bus to Nairobi. We were finally leaving to get Benjamin from Nairobi! We were accompanied by David Kirui, the headmaster at Mariann. As we arrived in Kapsabet and waited in line for our tickets, I noticed one of the many street boys sitting on the steps staring at us. He saw me looking at him and motioned for money. I shook my head and smiled. Every time I would look back at him, he'd motion again for money. Each time I'd shake my head and smile. A little while later, still in line, I saw a man out of the corner of my eye.. he'd walked up behind the boy and kicked him in the back to make him move out of his path. The boy jumped up and ran off. He disappeared for a little while, but soon found us as we headed to get some breakfast, this time accompanied by another boy. He asked us for money, which we again refused to give. Then he asked for food.. They followed us into the cafe and sat down at the table with us. David told them to go wait outside for us. Morgan and I had wanted to talk to them, so after talking to the others, we asked them to come back in. Morgan and Leah gave the two boys their chai and we bought them some mandazi (a traditional type of fried bread - really yummy!) As we sat with them, we asked their names and ages. The one boy from the bus station was Meshack, who still sat very quietly. Collins was the talker, and he informed us in surprisingly good English that he was 11 and that Meshack didn't know how old he was. (We've found that so many people don't know how old they are or when their birthdays are.) Collins soon noticed that Morgan and Leah weren't drinking chai and asked where it was. After Leah explained that they'd given them their chai, a look crossed Collins' face and he said, "thank you..". We noticed that one of Collins' pupils was white. When we asked him about it, he said he could only see out of one eye.



We chatted for some time and then the boys decided to leave. Collins neatly stacked his plates and cup and thanked us and left. We found them again on the way out. They'd found their "leader" and brought him to find us. (We've found that to be typical behavior - if we ever feed one, they usually go get this same boy so he can try to get food too.) We walked together for a while, and the whole time the leader was trying to get money from us and Meshack was sucking fumes from his glue bottle. The leader was walking beside Morgan just ahead of me, and Meshack and Collins were beside me. "You give me ten shillings," the leader said. "Nope, sorry." "Okay, ten dollars." "Ha! No! :)" "Okay, twenty dollars." I finally said, "If we give you money you will only buy glue with it." As soon as I said it, Meshack took his bottle of glue and chunked it across the road. I started laughing and held up my hands, "What was that?!" Meshack started laughing and slapped his hand into mine and shook it.

While we walked, I reached over to tickle Collins on the neck, and immediately he turned around and backhanded Meshack hard across the head. I looked at him, surprised, and said, "That was me! Why did you hit him?" "It was you?" "Yes, me. Apologize to him!" Collins turned around to Meshack and said, "I'm sorry.. I am sorry."

Finally, I think David got tired of the boys following us and went to them and said in Kiswahili that they needed to leave us alone, to which they replied, "But we are not disturbing them. We are escorting them!" They finally left because he told them that if they didn't, we wouldn't buy them chai or mandazi anymore.

We have continued to run into Collins and Meshack on our weekly visits to Kapsabet, and we are always greeted with a huge smile, handshake, and request for money and food. We're trying to establish a relationship with them to show them love for even the short time that we're here. I'm still amazed at how smart and witty they are, and still brokenhearted and the hand they've been dealt in life. I pray the Lord gives us wisdom in dealing with them and how to love them.

- Gloria

Benjamin's Support Letter

Greetings to all in whom this letter may find!

My name is Benjamin Fronczek. I am a twenty-four year old man, who for one reason or another has been blessed with a dream, a desire, a goal, and the strength of mind to know that I will see it come to pass.
My Dream: simple really, live a life of love and help any and every person I can in whatever way I can. Since the time I was born I have been part of a family who has given their lives in the service of others. My father, a domestic missionary has chosen a life of service and has taught me many valuable lessons throughout the course of my life. One rings aloud to me right now, “There is no greater power in this world than love!” I may not be as wise as him, but I have been around long enough to know his words are true. They are words of true power through willing submission.
The past three years of my life I have owned and successfully operated a small Handyman/Construction business. Practically born with a hammer in my hand, I’ve worked as part of a team and on my own. I have spent years learning everything I could, from small residential projects to large commercial buildings. Construction aside, I’ve worked in a wide array of fields, everything from flowers, to food, and finances. I have always willingly charged head first at even the most grotesque and difficult jobs knowing that I have what it takes. If you know me personally you probably know I’m your go-to guy. I will do what it takes to get it done, not by my power, but by the one who sent me. The source of my strength - My God. I know there is no opposition in this world that will ever overcome me as long as I have My God!
I am a simple man. I think a lot. More than once I have wondered why I am here, here today, or even why we as people are here. I was blessed with the experience of a lifetime. I attended the Finger Lakes School of Massage – a place where a part of my heart will always be. I learned many valuable things from this experience, but, one thing above all, why I am here. Love – one word – Love. In the English language we throw this word around a lot. I love pizza, I love that show, and I love my family. I say now to the world, I would willingly die to save a family member – but I would not die to save a piece of pizza! The origins of our language have been derived from a collection of ancient words and deeply felt feelings. Agapae is a Greek word for love in which the love is to seek another persons highest good, even if it means a sacrifice on one’s own part. That is the love I want to show the world!
I am so blessed; I have got to have one of the “coolest” families in the world! My younger sister Leah is, as I write these words, in a village called Sang’alo in Kenya. Practically on the opposite side of the world in the middle of Africa, with no running water, no electricity, giant insects of obscure proportions, and in her words “lots of donkey matter.” She is volunteering with her two friends Morgan, and Gloria helping to teach in the Mariann Primary school. Their presence brings awareness to education in a very uneducated part of the world and honor to the village they live in. Leah, while stateside, was able to collect books to ship over to start a library for the school and community. She was able to raise some funds also for building a library for the books she’s sending over.
I made a promise I intend on keeping. I told Leah, I would do anything in my power to help her to see her dream come to pass. In a conversation I recently had with Leah, she expressed concerns that she has for herself and her friends’ safety. Unfortunately women are not respected the way they should be throughout the world. She said my presence with them would greatly increase their feelings of safety and ease their state of mind. She went on to tell me that my knowledge of construction would greatly benefit not only the construction of a library but benefit many aspects of their community. Additionally, the education I received while attending the Finger Lakes School of Massage is far beyond the students and the villagers’ knowledge of health and their own bodies. This information would be greatly beneficial for the entire community.
What makes a man a man? Someone who keeps their promises? Someone who stands up for something they believe in when everyone else sits down? Someone who knows how to fight? Someone who knows how to love? We, as people, all fall down and get hurt. Let’s face it, who wants to ride a straight, flat, slow rollercoaster? Some say a man is someone who knows life will try to throw him down and hurt him, scrape his knees and elbows. But he must get back up and fight. All true, and I say with confidence it will take a lot more than scraped knees and elbows to stop me. I know why I fight. It’s the reason I’m alive.
I am Benjamin Fronczek, a 24 year old man who is not afraid to stand up for what I believe in. Not afraid to fight, not afraid to get hurt, and my God, I will keep my promise!
My dream, desire, and goal are one in the same, to help when and where I can. An amazing opportunity is knocking on my door, Africa! Every aspect of my personality can be used and will be tested. I am ready!
This task is great, and I cannot do it alone.. That is why this letter found its way into your hands. I have the talent, and the will, and the place that can use it, but unfortunately no funds at this time to make it happen. I am driven, I am going. My stay is planned for mid October 07 until December just before Christmas this year. I am asking you to help me help others in any way you can. It is a humbling experience to ask people for money, but here I am. If you or anyone you know would like to help support me in this work, I promise with all that I am and all that I stand for, any money received will go towards helping a community of people in Sang’alo Kenya who truly need it. We all fight to survive, and we all know that money does not grow on trees. That is why I make this promise not to waste a single penny given to me for this cause! If you can not help me financially, that’s OK! If you pray, then please pray for me and this cause. If you don’t pray, then send me happy thoughtsJ!! Let’s do something together for someone else. I can’t wait!
Call me at (518)598-9249 for any reason at all. Thank you for taking the time to read this, like I say, “Life is crazy, it’s a good thing some of us are crazy enough to recognize it!”
Any checks can be made payable to Church of Christ for charitable tax purposes
(Ear marked Kenya)
My current mailing address:
Benjamin Fronczek
32 Davidson Drive
Saratoga Springs, NY 12866

If only one thing you take from this letter, let it be this….
There is more than enough love for all of us to truly feel it!

(there were some really cool pictures here)

Some of the details:

Estimated Personal Expenses – Travel, vaccinations, living expenses, and financial obligations here in the states - $5,500

The Books:

Shipping the Books – So far the best rates we’ve found are - $4/lb x 50lb boxes = $200/box

two buildings:

Building #1 - A building with five classrooms and a teacher’s conference room. This project was started a few years ago but is yet to be completed. Local contractors estimate – $3,500

Building #2 – The new Library!! Local contractor estimated 24’ x 27’ building - $2,000


The children:

One year tuition/living expenses per student $100


All dollar amounts are shown in US currency. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you for even reading this far.
Peace and Love,
Benjamin Fronczek