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

The Visitors

I turned the stove on to boil some water, and I heard a sudden crackling noise. It was strange.. All of a sudden, something big, black and very rat-like FLEW out from under the stove... I screamed, of course, which scared Leah. "What was that?," she yelled. I started laughing... "A rat! A really big rat!" Then I smelled something burning. I noticed that there was something shoved up into the corner of the stove, underneath the eye, and it was on fire. The rat had taken some wet wipes or something of the sort and made a nest with them under the eye of the stove, which I guess had caught on fire, which caused him to run. Perfect! We now had a new visitor. We couldn't find him anywhere, so we stopped looking, hoping to run across him. We saw him once more later that night, but he ran away quickly.


Yesterday, I went to turn the stove on again and noticed a yellow towel under the stove on the other side. I pulled it out with tongs and revealed our missing yellow hand towel. The rat had started another nest in the other corner. Stupid rodent. A little while later I hear Morgan saying something in the kitchen, so I go in. She pointed to the corner, where I saw a rolled up sock stuffed up into the corner. The towel had hidden it, so we didn't see it the first time. It took all of Morgan's strength to get that sock out of the stove, and when she did, we realized that it wasn't our little ankle socks... it was a man's sock - a 4 ft. long sock. A sock on steroides. "What the...??" We were dumbfounded.


Morgan started cooking her eggs, and I went about my morning. A little later, we hear Morgan yell from the kitchen. We knew. The rat was under the eye the whole time, only running out when it got too hot. It had run into one of our bedrooms. Mine. Enough is enough - we went to get Silas, our favorite teacher. He said that of course he would come look for the rat, and he had a feeling it would die. :)


Silas showed up a little while later. He went in our rooms and looked under every single possible thing, totally destroying any sense of order we'd created. He finally found the rat under the spare bed in my room and tried to corner it. Meanwhile, Morgan had disappeared outside somewhere and Leah and I were waiting on the couches, feet pulled up off the floor. Soon enough we saw something scamper down the hallway and run under the couch, and Silas soon followed. For the next 10 or 15 minutes, Silas and Chirchir, the man who brings our water, looked in every single corner, every single basket for the rat. Leah was now standing on the couches and I had my camera out videoing, hoping to catch the rat run across the living room. Soon enough, right as I'd turned the camera off, the rat flew out and ran right into Chirchir's shoe, under which he was pinned. Silas grabbed a plastic pole and started beating it, Leah started yelling, I was laughing, and the rat was screaming.

Finally after much effort and many sleepless nights, the rat was dead. And I have pictures. :)

Later that same afternoon, I was laying on the couch and I noticed something fat and 8-legged under our table. Thinking it was just a huge, nasty spider, I called Morgan in to kill it.. When she looked under the table, she was shocked to find 5 egg sacks in the web. As if we really needed a thousand baby spiders running around our house. We hauled the table outside to douse it in bug spray and kill the spider. When we flipped the table over, the spider was gone... it had escaped. But I found a huge stick to get the sacks off. I looked up and the little kids were watching me. I called them over and they watched me take them off... EEhhh... I still feel creepy crawly just thinking about them!

- Gloria

This Is My Health

They held their hands out to us as we walked past, cupped, as if awaiting a downpour of shillings. They always want money, even if they only ask for bread. "Wazungu... wazungu," the boys kept calling after us. We didn't even look, but just kept walking. We were on our way back to Sang'alo after staying the night in Eldoret just for a little escape. Our escape didn't seem like a very good one though, after seeing a man beaten bloody for stealing on the streets.

"Wazungu," they still called. I finally turned around to look one of the boys in the face, firmly saying no. He simply held a plastic bottle up to his mouth and nose and breathed deeply. Glue. They all had it.

We continued to the market to get a couple of things, and while we were there, Morgan started to cry, her heart broken for the boys. We bought some rolls to give them. It's a basic rule to never, ever, ever give street children money. Never. They will use it to buy glue or something else. I've also adopted the other rule of never giving them anything packaged, because they could also sell it and use the money for glue.

We started walking back towards the hotel and came across the boys again. We could tell even from far away that they were wasted... more high than i could have imagined. They saw us approaching and came with one hand held out, one hand clutching the bottle of glue. Their eyes were completely glazed over; they couldn't really even look us in the face. Morgan showed them the bread. "I will give you bread if you give me your glue," she said to them. They just looked at her with a blank stare. "If you give me your glue, I will give you bread. No glue, no bread." People started noticing the 3 Wazungus talking to the street children and stopped to watch. The boys held their hand out again, still clinging to the glue. "No glue, no bread." A lady finally stopped beside us with a slight smile on her face. We asked her to explain in Swahili that if they would give us their glue, we would give them their bread. She did, and the boys turned, tucking their glue into their shirts and pants, yet still looking at us for the bread. "This is my health," one boy said. I held my hand out. "Give me your glue and I will give you bread." I said it a few more times, and they finally turned their bodies away, but still looked at us. "Fine." We walked away.

I glanced behind me only to see them following us from a short distance. I told the other girls, but we still kept walking. Finally, I turned around abruptly, catching one of them close behind, and held out my hand again. "You give me your glue, I will give you bread." No response. Morgan finally got a little irritated and said, "You give me your glue, I will give you bread. No glue, no bread. But DO NOT follow us. We are trying to help. Do not follow." We walked away; they did not follow.

We'd almost made it back to the hotel when we saw one of the boys running up to us from behind. He held a bottle out to us. I took it from him and Morgan gave him some bread. "You did the right thing," Leah assured him. He took the bread and looked back at Morgan with an expectant, glazed-over expression, as if he were waiting for more bread. I looked at him and said, "This bread is for you, not for your friends. For you. If they want bread, they can find us and give us their glue." Again, we walked away.

We were approached by at least 3 or 4 more boys before we made it out of the city. None of them were willing to give up their glue. As we rode back to the village, I began to think about what the one boy said - "This is my health." Street boys are typically orphans with nowhere to go. They have no one to take care of them, no one to feed them. They can go days without eating at all. They could resort to stealing, but everyone knows you can be beated to death. They resort to glue instead. They buy a bottle, sharing it between themselves by pouring little bits into empty plastic liquor bottles. The fumes are so strong, like our rubber cement. The glue keeps them from feeling hungry or cold, not to mention it helps them escape reality for a little while. I began to realize that if I were in their position, a piece of bread wouldn't be enough for me to give up my glue either. What happens once the bread is gone and the hunger returns? What are they supposed to do after we are gone and can't buy them bread? I knew that the one boy would have more glue by nightfall. That's just a given. But the thing that troubles me is that this is their existence. Huffing glue is all they know. They are beyond addicted - they survive off of it. They cannot live without it, not on the streets anyway.

Where is the hope for these children? Who will look them in the eye and say you are worth more than fumes and worth more than begging? I will give you bread if you give me your glue.

Matatu Glory and Other Amusing Thoughts

Dearest family and friends,

Where to even begin. First, I must inform you this may be a very grammatically difficult email to read. Some of the keys on the computer are misplaced and let's be honest...i suck at spelling. Time is short and money limited so I will do the best I can...Sigh.

I miss you all. We all wish we could have taken our family and friends with us to this place, even if just for a moment. I know this week has been difficult for some and I am so sorry I cannot be there with you through it. Please know that I care for you and am praying constantly. We may be distant but we are not seperated.

Random things you may want to know:

1. cows, goats, donkeys, and chickens are everywhere. those who have gone before us know what i mean. I have gotten into the habit of saying 'gnombe!' or 'teta' (both mean cow) loudly while pointing at the cows. i don't know why, but i find it fun. Perhaps because people are always looking at us and sometimes pointing (kids mostly) because we are white. Maybe i am projecting how i feel on the the cow, or maybe i am just crazy. : )

2. i just saw a man get caned. i don't know what to say or feel right now. we are safe mom and dad- dont worry. If you steal here in kenya there is a high chance that mob justice will break out and you will be caned or burned. Well, someone stole something from someone and out came the 2x4 and oh gosh. I know people steal for ill intentions, but if you could see this place... They know what could happen. Sometimes i feel that perhaps there is a greater reason for their actions, not just simply to steal, but perhaps to survive or help a loved one survive. i dont know. We are on the 2nd floor of a large building and it happened down below in the street. stealing is very rare from what i can tell and what i have been told, so please dont worry. we don't carry anything with us and dress low key.

3. the children are amazing. we sing songs, play, and laugh together. I wish we could spend more time with them all, but as there is only 3 of us it takes a long time to cook, clean, and prepare for the day/night. teaching is going well and it feels so perfect, like the greatest blessing to be here. they are currently reviewing for their national exams so we are just going back over the information that they somewhat know...which helps and allows us to not rush through the material so fast.

4. Chad and Nate. They miss you guys so much! Silas says hello chad and also stated that you 'are a man in a half.' I have taken up where you left off and have taught Silas more slang and even some sign language. He is so funny and kind to us. You all left your mark and it is comforting to know that you came before us. They really do love you guys and always ask what you are up to and how you are doing...if you have families...if your hair is the same...you know : ). You left your 'mark' with these people and they have not forgotten your stay or love. Also, Silas calls me the "full blooded american-african woman"...i think this is good, right? : )

5. I love african food.

6. The only way to ride in a matatu is to stand. If you do not know what a matatu is just picture a small truck that is stuffed with about 24 people in the bed and maybe 3-4 in the front seat. i have decided that a matatu ride can either be heaven or it can be hell. They dont go very fast due to the roads (very bumpy and muddy due to the rain), but they have bench seats and metal bars around it so you can hold on. it is a really good place to meet people and to think. you have people and animals on them and i must admit, i like it. Sometimes it is not so fun when you are sitting down crammed in with about 6 people on one side and people standing infront of you with a chicken and small boy to your left and about 30 pounds of water on your lap. But overall, it is good. it is our main transportation here and it is working out well so far.

7. Please pray for us, the school, and children here. Also for kenya as elections are coming up soon.

8. Please write me/us emails, text messages, or letters. it is so good to hear from you all and often times it helps the days when we can remember words from loved ones.

9. People often ask what staple food we have in the US . Sometimes I say we dont have one and name off a few popular things, or i say mcdonalds. We are blessed with copious amounts of wealth and convenience in the states. I know we all know that, but it hurts sometimes to see all the poverty. I am scared that i will become immune to it. It is not everywhere or everyone, but it is at the same time; it is hard to explain. right now, as i type this to you, i have a view of the city and buildings and a market. Yet i also have a view of a field with (for lack of better terms) a slum inside it.

10. We are still planning to build the library and hopefully finish the school (a nice school building is still not completed and the students study/learn in very shabby rooms with no real walls.) But it cost more then we anticipatied and asked that the children write letters and create art work with the art supplies we brought so we can sell the work to raise money. We hope to do this soon, but it is going much slower than we thought. we are going to make a video and send pictures over email, so if you are willing to show and speak to people and churches that would be great. i hate to ask, but one thing africa has taught me is to be humble. it is not about asking for money or even to help support us now, it is all about the children who wake up at 4:45am to study, go to school with minimum supplies, study from 7-9pm with no running water and only 2 hours of electricty at night. Their clothes are torn but they smile. If they could see the US, i dont know what they would think of the indifference in us and some of our students. There is so much i wish i could share if time permitted. it is odd to try and relate the days via email. For those who worry, please know we are very safe. People in the villiage and school look after us like we were family. We are gaining more "street smarts" as the days go on. We kinda feel like pros right now. I feel like a living representation of what you said about dirt biking dad; that you "start off scared and shy, then get good, then get cocky, then mess up and get shy again." We are getting good, but hopefully not cocky. : )

You are all very loved and I pray constantly for you. Please write when you can.
- Morgan

A Bucket of Water

Rainy season is slowing going its way. We had two days with no rain this week. At first we were so excited, because the roads get so bad when it rains. For example, last week when we emailed, it took us 3 hours to go 13-16 miles to the near town of Kapsabet. By the time we got there we were beyond frustrated and a little at loss of what to say after such a long drive. Today, it took us the same amount of time to make it to Eldoret, which is twice as far as Kapsabet.

We didn't realize, however, how useful the rain is, especially when it comes to baths and drinking water and cooking. We fill up our massive kettle and boil the water for 20 minutes and then purify it. But this week, both of our filters were mostly dry. We didn't take a bath for maybe 5 days? Disgusting, I know. We've vowed we will never go that long again without a bath. We actually had a shower head rigged up, so now we can climb up a ladder and pour water into this thing on top of the roof, which then flows down. It feels pretty luxurious! :)

I started to get a little worried after 2 days without rain. We didn't have water for showers, we didn't have water to cook with or to drink. We'd used up almost all of our bottled water. I wasn't sure what we were going to do. Both containers that catch the rain water were almost empty. I was sitting in the kitchen when I saw Borness peek around the corner of the house. She directed someone to the door, and a few moments later, a couple of the older girls walked around the corner with a huge bucket full of water. We hadn't said anything to her about needing water. She just noticed and did something about it without a second thought.

I almost cried as they set the water down, smiled, and left. Borness simply looked, approved, and disappeared. It's the little things like that bucket of water that show me the face of Christ.

- Gloria

The Scariest Night Ever

I was awakened at around 4 in the morning to Morgan and Leah crouching over my bed and whispering my name. "Gloria, wake up!" "What?.... What's going on?" "Just get up, come with us." "What's going on?" "We'll tell you in a minute. Just come into our room." A little freaked out, I followed them across the hall into their room. Morgan explained to me that they'd been awakened by loud music - they'd heard it earlier, but it was really far away. Now it was right outside our house, and they could also hear men's voices. I layed down on Morgan's bed and listened to the music blasting outside our house. It had gotten really loud about a half hour before, and Morgan and Leah were pretty freaked out. They'd called Rachel to find out if anything like that had happened when she was here, but it hadn't. She didn't know what it was. A little while later, we saw flashlights moving around and shining into the house next to us... We were sure that they would be coming to our house next.

Earlier that week, someone had stolen shoes from some of the students, and someone else had slashed a neighbor's cow. We didn't know if these were the same people that did those things or if they knew that 3 white girls were living in a house by themselves; we didn't know anything. We just knew that there were men outside our house shining flashlights into our neighbor's house and blasting music at 4:00 AM. We knew we were scared. We knew we'd protect ourselves if it came down to it. Morgan got out the knives that she had and also the hairspray. (I know, I know... what are you going to do with hairspray? Well... spray it in their eyes? Make a blowtorch out of it?) Morgan even told us where to aim with the knife if it came down to actually using it. I dreaded the thought of even thinking about using a knife on someone. I decided to not think about it unless we heard them at the door. It would be daylight soon enough, so I just lay there listening to the pulsating beat of the music, trying to block out the men's voices.

I think we eventually fell asleep, because soon enough we heard the generator turn on and children's voices outside. But the music was still there. We went back to sleep. A couple hours later when we woke up, the music was still there, but softer now, but it was also daylight. We were confused.

We didn't get up for a while yet, and when we finally did, we talked to some of the other teachers, asking questions about what was going on. We learned that there was a funeral that afternoon on the other side of the school property. It's customary that when a funeral takes place, people go to the house of the deceased and mourn with the family. The night before the funeral, because there are so many people at the deceased's house, men will sleep outside and play music to "keep watch". That explained most of it, except the fact that they were beside our house instead of the other house across the property. Most of the teachers didn't really believe us when we said how close it was, but when we insisted, they simply shrugged saying that they didn't know why they would be on the school property.

We still aren't to the point of laughing about it yet, but hopefully soon enough. I just know that I haven't been that scared in a long time.

- Gloria

Mob Rule

My whole train of thought has just been blown. I am sitting upstairs at an internet cafe, and all of a sudden we heard shouting and whistling. Everyone rushed to the windows to see what was going on. I asked someone what was happening and all they said was "thief". I looked down to see people forcefully beating a young man on the back, blood streaming down his face. I had to look away... It didn't matter though, I'm afraid that image is burned into my memory now, and I won't be able to rid myself of it.

We learned this week that there is mob rule here in Kenya. If someone is caught stealing, they will more than likely be beaten to death or even burned to death. Someone stole shoes from the children at school twice this week, and we learned yesterday that the same person stole money from a neighbor. They caught the person that night. One of the teachers pulled out a rubber hose type thing and showed it to us - that was what the villagers had used to beat the man. They'd taken him somewhere but would be bringing him back soon. The teachers warned us that when he arrived, everyone, even the students, would be screaming and yelling for him to be burned. Rachel Cox, one of the girls that spent a lot of time here a few years ago, warned us that if our things were ever stolen while we were out walking in the town that we could yell thief, but to be prepared because that person would likely be beaten to death.

My question is this: What is it that makes someone so desperate that he would risk his own life just to steal something? It seems as though there has to be something more. Surely they have nothing left to lose if they're willing to go that far.

- Gloria

Here Goes Nothing...

It seems forever ago when I boarded the plane for Chicago, then London, then Nairobi. I don’t think it had even really hit me yet what kind of journey I was embarking on. I made the trip from Dallas to London by myself and met up with Leah and Morgan in London. We were a little worried about arriving in Nairobi because we’d heard that the girls that had gone before us had things stolen from their luggage. And then there were the cautions from the nice Kenyan man I’d met on the plane: “Do not trust anyone. Not even the people you are working with. This is Africa.” (This is Africa… We’ve abbreviated it now to T.I.A. for future reference.)

We got our visas without any problem and got all of our luggage (nothing was stolen). Things were going so well that surely something was bound to go wrong sooner or later. And so it was that when we walked out to meet the person that was supposed to pick us up and take us to the hotel, he was not there. I think the first reaction was to panic, but we were too tired to even do that. We went back in and one of the women working the taxi information desk tried to help us look up the number of the hotel. When we couldn’t find it, we started to think of anybody at all that we could call to come get us. The lady even offered to call the travel agent in Nairobi that we’d been in touch with. We were so thankful to have found someone so helpful! As we were calling the travel agent, I saw a sign outside that read “Menonnite, Fronkez” or something of the sort. Even if Leah’s last name was misspelled, it was meant for us and we were so relieved! As we gathered our things and started to leave, the woman that had so politely helped us stopped us and said, “What? Nothing for me?” (meaning money) We hadn’t exchanged our money yet, so Morgan searched through her things for some change or anything that we could give her. She gave her all the change that she had, and the woman counted it as she laid it on the table. She started to laugh and speak in Swahili with her friends, who also started laughing. When I asked her what she’d said, she replied, “There is not enough here even for milk.” All we could do was walk away and meet our ride.

The Mennonite Guest House is a great little home-style hotel with quite a few perks such as a volleyball and tennis court, a playground for the kids, a library, and the ever-slow internet. We met some characters there, including a Canadian auditor, but the one that stood out from the rest was Doug O’Connell, the Irishman. Everybody eats together at the Mennonite House, and so when we went to lunch the next day, we sit down, everyone greeted each other and started asking questions and sharing stories. Soon enough, the Irishman starts telling about how he had been training for the Iron Man and couldn’t complete the running portion because he’d hurt his knee. More questions came, followed by many more stories from all of his travels to Spain, Nepal, the US, etc. We decided to invite Doug to go with us to get our cell phones that afternoon. As the day turned into the next couple of days, we were so grateful for his company. Wherever we would go, he’d walk behind us to keep an eye on us and everyone surrounding. He was like our own personal protector, bodyguard, and guardian angel - whatever you want to call it. We were safe with Doug, although we didn’t realize it until after we’d separated and gone our different ways.

Paul, our driver, took us from Nairobi to the Mariann School in Sang’alo. He was a wealth of information and gave so much advice, which we gladly received. He shared about Kenya’s political history, which Morgan will have to share about. I was in the back and couldn’t hear anything. I was surprised as the scenery changed from the stereotypical Africa of the Great Rift Valley that we think of and see in movies to the mountainous pastures and tea fields. It reminded me of Costa Rica. The drive was so beautiful, and extremely bumpy. It’s the middle of rainy season here, so the roads are full of potholes. We arrived to the school on Saturday and met the school management team and some of the teachers. At church the next morning, they had a translator just for us. There were 2 sermons preached, and I think we’d all agree that it was hard to sit for so long listening to Callogen translated into broken English. The singing was beautiful, though, and the people were so kind and gracious and inviting.

I think culture shock hit all three of us right away. It’s hard to describe the way every day life is here. Things are so much more relaxed, but that term doesn’t even do it justice. Time just functions differently here. The children are in school literally all day and half a day on Saturday. Half of them live on the school property since their homes are too far. We’ve been observing classes all week and have finally arranged our own schedules. We’ll probably really start contributing on Monday. They have already finished the syllabus and are now reviewing for the National Exams (finals).

I’ve taken so many pictures of things that words can’t describe. Our home is comfortable and clean. We are slowly learning to do things for ourselves here, like cooking and cleaning. There is always work to do or something to clean, especially since its rainy season. We didn’t have any electricity until Wednesday night. We’d gone into town to buy some supplies for the house and one of the teachers went with us to get the school’s generator fixed. Now we have about 2 hours of electricity every night! It’s been so great to be able to charge phones or the laptop or whatever. Sometimes teachers have brought their phones over to be charged, so it also creates a time when we can sit and have tea and get to know the teachers or management. Even though we’re so thankful for the electricity, we really do enjoy the candlelight and lanterns that we have to use the rest of the time.

We are slowly getting used to the “outhouse”. It’s more of a cement port-a-potty, really. Typical toilets in Kenya consist of a hole in the ground. This one, however, is a cement seat. The hole goes down maybe 50 feet or so, so there’s really not a smell. As of right now, we’ve only taken one bucket bath. We heat up the rainwater from the day and put it in a plastic tub and just do the best we can. This weekend one of the teachers is going to rig up a shower for us though. It will consist of a black plastic container that holds the water, which runs down through a hose into the little room. We’ll have to boil the water and then climb up the later to pour it into the container. We’re really looking forward to it!

I think before this becomes too much longer, I’m going to sign off on this one. We’ll include many of our stories separately to make the reading easier. I’ll be surprised if any of you actually read all of this! J I’ll write again soon and include more pics/stories.

Until then! - Gloria

PS - I tried to include a picture, but the internet is soooo slow... maybe next time.

2 1/2 Weeks to Go

I really hope we get better at this blogging thing once we get to Sang'alo... not that we'll have internet there. Maybe we can settle for posting some journal excerpts or something. I'd hoped to be consistent enough to "journal" things from the getting ready process - so many memorable things have happened and I want to remember them forever.

I think every time I looked up into the sky today I saw a plan passing overhead. Something inside me longs to be on it, as long as its headed to Kenya, of course. My heart just feels so full right now. I wish words were enough. I'm 2 1/2 weeks away from moving to Kenya for 3 1/2 months. My mind hasn't really wrapped around the idea yet. I've spent the past few months wondering if we would really end up going. There were so many financial goals that had to be met... payments that needed to be taken care of while we are gone. I raised my support for the 3 1/2 months in 2 months, and by the grace of God, most of my expenses that I'll have while I'm gone have been taken care of as of this past week. I have known in my head for most of my life that the Lord promises to take care of His children, but I think this is one of the first times that I've truly experienced it. Its really one of the most assured, steadfast, steady feelings of peace I've ever known... and that's pretty stinkin' awesome!

We are set to leave on September 4th. There's still quite a bit that has to happen. We've got a lot of books that need to be shipped over, but we still need funds to ship them. We can get some over, but not as much as we'd like. From what Leah told me, the USPS doesn't ship by boat anymore, so they have to be sent airmail, which is pretty expensive, but much quicker. When I think of building that library... 3 girls building a library... these kids will be able to read books they never knew existed and learn things they never dreamed of... it seems as though there's something almost sacred in being a part of that. I can't wait to read my own favorite stories to the children! :) (Especially " 'Stand Back,' Said the Elephant, 'I'm Going to Sneeze!' ")

I'm excited about meeting the donkeys that will bring our water every day and seeing the daily customs and habits of these people. I want to know them, I want to understand them. I don't believe that we are going to be the only ones giving... I have a feeling that we'll be coming home 10 times more blessed than the people that we leave behind. It seems to be what I've experienced in the past anyway.

I'm sitting here in the dark in my parents house filled with the most wonderful peace and excitement and hope... we have worked so hard to reach this place... we're almost there. 2 1/2 weeks to go.

3 months to go...

Hugs to all!

Today I watched the Last King of Scotland for the first time. I knew what to expect, but still.. I wasn't prepared for what I saw. If you've seen it, you know what I'm talking about. The movie seems pretty happy-go-lucky there for a while, and you start to think maybe he's not as insane as supposed... hm. I'm a very visual person, so it might take me a few days to get some of those last images out of my mind. I even put the subtitles on and fastforwarded so I wouldn't have to sit there and watch it. The thing that really got me though was at the end when they were telling the year that his reign ended.. I think it was '79.. and then having seen the Invisible Children documentary and having participated in Displace Me.. I realized that there were only 7 years between the end of his reign and the start of the war in Northern Uganda.

My mind can't even try to wrap itself around it all, what those people lived through day by day, the horrors that they faced. My heart can't even pretend to understand the pain that they've endured. Then I started thinking about being gone for 5 months. I know that I'll get homesick, and I know that I'll miss spending Wendesdays with my little niece. I know I'll miss being there on my brother's birthday and on Emma's 1st birthday. Thanksgiving, my birthday, etc... I started to get sad last night when I left my cousin's because we realized that I would be missing a lot while I was gone, and that Emma wouldn't remember me when I came back. I made her promise to show pictures of me to Emma so that she would still know me. But after watching that movie and realizing that terror is all that some Ugandans have ever known, I felt convicted.. almost as if I didn't have a right to feel sad about being gone. I have been so blessed to have my family so close during my life, to see Emma Kate grow up and change week by week, to have friends and relatives so nearby... I have been so blessed! And I forget every day how special that is. I don't want to take them for granted anymore. I don't want to take our freedoms here for granted. Even though I don't like a lot of things about my culture, I don't want to take it for granted.

If you haven't watched the Invisible Children documentary, please do. The war there is not over yet. Even though peace talks are in process and the government officials are meeting with the LRA, there's still a long way to go to repair the damage done. Thousands have been abducted and brutally murdered, families destroyed. Take a look at their website and see what you can do to help end the war. And in the meantime, don't take our liberties and freedoms for granted...

Build a Library for the Kids

Library for Mariann Church of Christ Primary School:

One of the things we want to do while in Sang'alo is start a library for the school. If you have any books that you aren't using or won't read anymore, please send them down our way. If you can figure out the value of the books you are sending, you may count it as a tax deduction! Please send them soon, because they will take months to arrive... I think maybe 5? So if you send them asap, they can arrive while we are there!

Send books to:
Mariann Church of Christ Primary School
P. O. Box 847 Kapsabet, KENYA.

***Donors will want to mark each package “Donated library books.”

And So It Begins...

I've always wanted to go to Africa. I spent a year and a half in Latin America, which still has the European influence and has many cultural similarities to ours. But Africa... so far removed from where and how we live.. she intrigued me. Probably at first because I've always been a fan of animals... zebras, giraffes, lions, tigers, bears... (I will refrain..) Are there even bears in Africa? Anyway, the point is, Africa has always been that far off/stereotypical land where people go on adventures and safaris, and chances were that I'd never be able to go. Besides, I had left my heart in Latin America.



Amazing Grace came out in the theaters, and I was so excited on opening night. I hadn't heard about William Wilberforce, but I love Amazing Grace, and I knew it had something to do with the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade... I was stoked. That movie was incredible. It totally turned my world upside-down. I had been exposed to the existence of child prostitution when I lived in Mexico, and was so horrified by it that I did my English report on it as well as a speech freshman year in college. Also while in Mexico, I went with my mom and a couple other women to look for some kids that had been kidnapped by their own mother, who then started selling them out on the streets every night... She was their pimp. Not only that, but she would dress the little boy up as a girl just to make more money off of him. When I saw that little boy, my heart broke, and I don't think it will ever recover. Ever since then, my heart was to rescue kids from the streets, rescue them from prostitution. And seeing Amazing Grace reminded me that one person really can make a difference. It may take 20 years to see the fruit of my labor, but it is possible!



After Amazing Grace, everywhere I went I heard something about street kids, read something or saw something, and I would come home in tears every day because I could not escape them - even here in Dallas, TX, I could not escape them. But what was I supposed to do? The Lord was being super quiet about what He wanted me to do, and so I just got more and more frustrated. Finally I just decided enough was enough. I started reading everything that I could and watching every movie that I could that had anything to do with modern-day slavery. A couple of months ago, I went to a screening of a documentary at the Dallas Guitar Festival. I'd heard of Invisible Children (www.invisiblechildren.com) before, and I knew what they fought for. I had even signed up to go to Displace Me in Austin. But I was not ready for what I saw that night in the documentary. I won't even attempt to describe the horrors because words are not enough. Not only did the video open my eyes and break my heart, but one of the filmmakers was there along with one of the Ugandan boys Jacob. As soon as Laren and Jacob walked out on stage, I lost it. I'd held it together through the whole documentary, but as soon as I saw Jacob's face... From that point on, I had images in my mind of abducted children going off to fight in a war that they did not believe in. And if they did, it was because they were brainwashed and conditioned to do so. They were everywhere - in my every thought, in my dreams. So I did all I could do... paint. I decided to paint, and eventually try to sell the paintings and then donate the money to IC.



Displace Me was a huge success. Jacob was also there, and captivated the audience once again. It was only on the way home that I realized what we had done, what our actions represented. And it was on that trip that Morgan asked me if I wanted to go to Africa. Our friend Leah was going with her brother in the fall. The notion of the distant land teased me once again, only this time with thoughts of children dying of malaria and HIV and war, parents leaving their children to fend for themselves because HIV took them too early. I could not ignore Africa's cries any longer. I heard her loud and clear, and it was time to do something about it.



And so, in two and a half months, I will leave for Sang'alo, Kenya with my two girls and a guy I've never met before to work at a school full of children... beautiful children. And I pray to God that He uses us to make a difference in these people's lives.



And so, the adventure begins.
Gloria