~ an excerpt from the newsletter for Dan and Jen Davis, ELI missionaries in Kipkaren, Kenya
Last week, during staff devotions, David Tarus, our director, admonished us not to forget that many in our community struggle with heavy physical, emotional and spiritual burdens. The lives of many people directly connected to Empowering Lives have been transformed in many ways – extra income has freed people from living on a knife’s edge financially, family planning means parents have enough time, energy and resources for their children, accountability in a community seeking to follow Jesus’ teachings is beginning to elevate the status of women… But most of these changes have yet to permeate the outside community. Tarus encouraged us to look for ways to reach out to our neighbors, to be missionaries in our neighborhood. He urged us not settle in to our comfortable existence, ignoring the hurting people around us.
As a case in point, he spoke of a woman named Tecla and her family. Tecla has been drinking alcohol for some years now. Her two youngest children are extreme examples of neglect. When a staff member visited three weeks ago she found the children alone, sitting in their own diarrhea. The older of the two, a girl named Jesang, is 3. She cannot walk and talks very little; she has not developed simply because she does not receive the love, care and food she needs.
The younger child is a one year old who I first met when he came to the clinic with a burn last month. His mother had no plans to treat him, but two of her neighbors found the boy as they walked to the market, and took him and his mother to the clinic straight away. He had second degree burns all over his legs and groin, yet he sat without expression as Kiptoo the nurse cleaned and dressed his burns and gave him a penicillin injection. As far as that baby knew, he was hopeless – after awhile, you give up crying if no one answers.
Tarus’ question was, “Why hadn’t his cries been answered by us?”
Fast forward to this week’s staff meeting—Tarus asked what the highlights of people’s weekends had been; many came as a result of people responding to the needs in our community. Several mothers from the Children’s Home had gone to visit Tecla and her family and have made plans to bring her children to play here at the Children’s Home a few days a week. Another group of people had gone to a harambee – a gathering of people in the community to raise funds for something. In this case, it was medical school fees for a young woman from across the river. She made it into medical school, but her mother is a widow (her father died recently at 39 years old). If this woman was not able to raise her fees to enter, she would have lost her place and would not have had a second chance to become a doctor. The community rallied to raise 2/3 of what she needed for her first year. The other 3rd was made up by the end of the day!
Two other teammates (Juli and Adele) and I shared as our highlight, a visit we made to Hannah. She is the woman we have written about who has a massive tumor in her face. The tumor is inoperable and has destroyed the bone in her face. On one of my visits to her, her husband handed me a small packet containing 3 teeth – they had fallen out as the tumor invaded her mouth more each week. Her eyes are being forced out and her nose is stretched so that seeing, talking, swallowing and even breathing are becoming more and more difficult. You can imagine the pain this tumor is causing her. I feel extremely inadequate in this situation. Morphine is a help, but truly all I can do is pray and be with her. Her family is doing an outstanding job of taking care of her. Though she is wasting as her body shuts down and she is too weak to move much in bed, she has not even a hint of a bed sore. Her daughters take time to massage her with Vaseline every day and her skin shines. Her hair is neat and her clothes and sheets are clean. More than this, her spirit is light. When she talks, she is thanking God for the life he has given her, for her children, for her home, for us her visitors! Praise God for the care and love Hannah is receiving from her family in these, her last days, and for the fact that God is enabling her to “finish her race” well.
The last two weeks have been full of other events as well. Last Friday, I went to the graduation of our 8th group of Traditional Birth Attendants. Most mothers in Kenya deliver their babies at home, under the supervision of an experienced woman from the community. Every week for the past 3 months, someone from the clinic has gone on Wednesday afternoon to teach these birth attendants some anatomy and physiology, what to do in obstetrical emergencies, when to refer, how to do prenatal care so you catch potential problems early, etc. Of 48 who started the program, only 23 made it to graduation. It’s an intense study and most of these women have never been to school before. We crammed in a tiny church as rain poured down on the tin roof and more onlookers huddled under umbrellas around the windows to recognize their accomplishment - a once-in-a-lifetime event for these mothers and grandmothers.
On Monday, I accidentally delivered a baby by myself. A mother of 6 came in at around 11am. Her water had broken the morning before and the baby was now in distress. His heart rate was low and there was meconium evident (in other words, the baby had had the poop scared out of him!) After we started an IV, Magan, the other nurse headed out to see other patients, warning that things can move really quickly for a woman who has had several other children. The woman was alone, so she had nobody but me to sit with her through the rest of her difficult, albeit short, labor. Suddenly she was pushing, ignoring my pleas to wait until she was dilated further. I yelled a few desperate, but (I hoped) confident-sounding calls for Magan as a very messy baby boy slipped into my arms. This prompted the mom to start yelling “Daktari!” (doctor!). I was waiting as long as I could to cut the cord since I was quite contaminated by a certain little someone who had been swimming in his meconium for awhile. I was also preoccupied with suctioning him out as soon as his mouth and nose appeared, while also dodging the mother’s hands, who in her state was not happy about this intrusion. Thankfully, Magan arrived just in time to do the honors. Mother and baby were doing well half an hour later when I left to take a shower, and she walked home later that same evening. Hopefully, I will see them again in a couple weeks when he comes for his immunizations and I am firmly in my comfort zone as far as mothers and babies are concerned.
Friday, September 21, 2007
ELI Anti-Alcohol: New intake at Ilula
One of the men who is now at Ilula for rehabilitation is called Wesley. Wesley comes from Kitale. When he came to us, his arm was in a cast from having fractured it during a drunk spell.
Along with the other men in the program, Wesley survived the first week well, when the participants are weaned from drugs and alcohol cold turkey. No meds. Just prayer.
During the second week of the program, the participants started going through the the twelve steps to freedom. Step 5 is called "Clearing the mess." During the particular session, Wesley confessed that he takes marijuana and still had some at home. He asked if some of the leaders could accompany him on a trip home to go and burn his stash.
When he arrived home with four men from ELI, Wesley's father could hardly believe his eyes. His wife could not control the tears of joy and thanked God continuously as the meeting went on. Wesley removed marijuana from various places where he had hidden it, including under the door mat and under the garbage heap.
Wesley is a new man! He is relaxed during the lessons, and takes the teachings very seriously.
We love seeing how God brings freedom and healing. Though the outward scars (and his cast) are still a reminder of a life he had lived, Wesley has a future ahead of him, walking in the freedom Christ had purchased for him.
Along with the other men in the program, Wesley survived the first week well, when the participants are weaned from drugs and alcohol cold turkey. No meds. Just prayer.
During the second week of the program, the participants started going through the the twelve steps to freedom. Step 5 is called "Clearing the mess." During the particular session, Wesley confessed that he takes marijuana and still had some at home. He asked if some of the leaders could accompany him on a trip home to go and burn his stash.
When he arrived home with four men from ELI, Wesley's father could hardly believe his eyes. His wife could not control the tears of joy and thanked God continuously as the meeting went on. Wesley removed marijuana from various places where he had hidden it, including under the door mat and under the garbage heap.
Wesley is a new man! He is relaxed during the lessons, and takes the teachings very seriously.
We love seeing how God brings freedom and healing. Though the outward scars (and his cast) are still a reminder of a life he had lived, Wesley has a future ahead of him, walking in the freedom Christ had purchased for him.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
ELI Congo
From Davis and Jen's update after their recent trip to visit ELI Congo:
How do you describe Congo? The city of Bukavu is a perched on several steep hills at the south end of Lake Kivu. Its streets have disintegrated into a moonscape of potholes navigated by small cars smashing their under-carriages, the big SUVs of a dozen aid organizations, and fleets of military vehicles. The UN patrols the streets with truckloads of soldiers from Uruguay, Pakistan, China, and Indonesia, in Land Rovers with machine guns on turrets. The Congolese army is also in full force, rolling through the streets in their own trucks, with soldiers also making their presence known wherever people are gathered. You often see soldiers flying around the streets packed into their jeep-like Belgian army “bombardiers” with guns and Stinger missiles bristling out of the roll-cage.
Despite the constant reminders of war in this land, it was very peaceful. We never heard gunfire, or worried for our safety. The people were very engaging and friendly and we were able to communicate with them in Kiswahili quite effectively. The people are shorter than Kenyans and commonly wear tailored African clothing instead of the 2nd-hand clothing from the West so common in Kenya.
What was striking was the resilience of the people in a country that has seen the most deadly conflict since WWII. Besides the multiple rebel movements since Congo’s colonization and independence, Bukavu was most recently turned into a war zone when it was invaded by rebels in 2004. The city shows the marks of this instability. Besides the unreliability of the infrastructure—roads, electricity, water, etc. many government workers make use of their position to make their living, as their salaries often go unpaid. The result is that you can be asked for bribes every time you make any transaction with the government.
The other result is that businesses seem unwilling to invest significantly in any large scale business, so instead it is carried out by men on the street. We were surprised to buy fuel for the car in half-liter and one-liter water bottles. The price is negotiable. When we did go to a gas station, they did not have fuel. Money is also changed on the street by men with enormous stacks of Congolese Francs—notes so dirty and broken you are sometimes uncertain of the denomination.
The few stores carry shelves of liquors from all over the world to meet the demands of the city’s soldiers but very little variety in food. Milk is only available in dried form in cans, or in packages of long-life milk at a high price. One of the costs of war was the death of 3 million cows, making milk a luxury that is imported from Uganda.
Click here for some photos from the Congo.
How do you describe Congo? The city of Bukavu is a perched on several steep hills at the south end of Lake Kivu. Its streets have disintegrated into a moonscape of potholes navigated by small cars smashing their under-carriages, the big SUVs of a dozen aid organizations, and fleets of military vehicles. The UN patrols the streets with truckloads of soldiers from Uruguay, Pakistan, China, and Indonesia, in Land Rovers with machine guns on turrets. The Congolese army is also in full force, rolling through the streets in their own trucks, with soldiers also making their presence known wherever people are gathered. You often see soldiers flying around the streets packed into their jeep-like Belgian army “bombardiers” with guns and Stinger missiles bristling out of the roll-cage.
Despite the constant reminders of war in this land, it was very peaceful. We never heard gunfire, or worried for our safety. The people were very engaging and friendly and we were able to communicate with them in Kiswahili quite effectively. The people are shorter than Kenyans and commonly wear tailored African clothing instead of the 2nd-hand clothing from the West so common in Kenya.
What was striking was the resilience of the people in a country that has seen the most deadly conflict since WWII. Besides the multiple rebel movements since Congo’s colonization and independence, Bukavu was most recently turned into a war zone when it was invaded by rebels in 2004. The city shows the marks of this instability. Besides the unreliability of the infrastructure—roads, electricity, water, etc. many government workers make use of their position to make their living, as their salaries often go unpaid. The result is that you can be asked for bribes every time you make any transaction with the government.
The other result is that businesses seem unwilling to invest significantly in any large scale business, so instead it is carried out by men on the street. We were surprised to buy fuel for the car in half-liter and one-liter water bottles. The price is negotiable. When we did go to a gas station, they did not have fuel. Money is also changed on the street by men with enormous stacks of Congolese Francs—notes so dirty and broken you are sometimes uncertain of the denomination.
The few stores carry shelves of liquors from all over the world to meet the demands of the city’s soldiers but very little variety in food. Milk is only available in dried form in cans, or in packages of long-life milk at a high price. One of the costs of war was the death of 3 million cows, making milk a luxury that is imported from Uganda.
Click here for some photos from the Congo.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Celebrate!
When the 33 graduates entered the packed hall, singing, you couldn’t help but get goose bumps. These are lives that have been transformed. Young men and women who are ready to go and impact their communities with the skills they had acquired during the past year at Kipkaren.
Our biggest graduating class this far consisted of young men and women who had been selected from hundreds. One of them made a speech, reiterating how they will now go forth, armed with skills and knowledge to do organic farming, but even more, to serve God.
Mrs Kirwa, the guest of honor, announced that the Agricultural Development Council will employ one of the group. “But don’t be discouraged if you are not the one,” she explained. “You go and implement what you have learned. Even I am using some skills I picked up from this center. Here, I learned about compost and worm beds, and in my small garden in Nairobi, I am using what I have learned here in order to grow better vegetables.”
Around 500 guests showed up for the celebration. They didn’t even seem to mind the afternoon downpour. Like the gift of education, the rains, too, are a blessing for which they thank God.
As these young men and women set out to seek employment or to go and work the land of their families, please continue to pray for them to remain strong and to serve God with unfaltering devotion.
Click here to see photos of the event.
Our biggest graduating class this far consisted of young men and women who had been selected from hundreds. One of them made a speech, reiterating how they will now go forth, armed with skills and knowledge to do organic farming, but even more, to serve God.
Mrs Kirwa, the guest of honor, announced that the Agricultural Development Council will employ one of the group. “But don’t be discouraged if you are not the one,” she explained. “You go and implement what you have learned. Even I am using some skills I picked up from this center. Here, I learned about compost and worm beds, and in my small garden in Nairobi, I am using what I have learned here in order to grow better vegetables.”
Around 500 guests showed up for the celebration. They didn’t even seem to mind the afternoon downpour. Like the gift of education, the rains, too, are a blessing for which they thank God.
As these young men and women set out to seek employment or to go and work the land of their families, please continue to pray for them to remain strong and to serve God with unfaltering devotion.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Coming up: 6th Graduation of ELI's Sustainable Agriculture and Community Development Program
Greetings from Kipkaren River Training and Development Centre! There is excitement around the centre this week as we all prepare for the 6th Graduation Ceremony for our Sustainable Agriculture and Community Development students, which will be held this Friday, 20th July. Our students (33 in number--one from Uganda and the others from several different parts of Kenya) began their course work here at the training centre in September 2006, completed their exams in April, and went for a three month internship to put into practice the things they learned in the course. They are now ready to celebrate their successes and be awarded their certificates for completing the programme. We are very proud of them and are looking forward to see how God will use them as lights in their own communities when they return home after graduation or wherever He may take them.
Please pray for our team here in Kipkaren as we work out all the details to make this day a great success.
Asante sana (thank you very much)!
Blessings,
Allison
Monday, June 18, 2007
Love in Action
In Kipkaren, we often say that we wake up with a plan for the day, but we must leave space for God to interrupt our plans. This morning I traveled to a neighboring town to attend the opening ceremony of an income-generating project for people living with HIV/AIDS. On my way, I stopped by the nearby AIDS clinic and learned of a young woman named Monica who was HIV+.
Monica’s story quickly threw me back into the harsh reality of what it looks like to be poor and to live with AIDS. The 31-year-old mother of two was under treatment for tuberculosis and had woken up critically ill. Without access to a car, or means to take a cab, she was forced to travel on the back of an open truck and then walk to reach the clinic. Her mother supported her weak body, but by the time they arrived at the clinic, Monica was gasping for air. She passed away before she could be treated.
If this were not traumatic enough, Monica’s mother had no way to transport her daughter’s body home to be buried.
As I stood in the examination room with this grieving mother, these words ran through my head: “If any of you has possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in you? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but in action and in truth” (1 John 3:16-18). I chose to listen to the Voice that was calling me to love. With the help of several of my Kenyan friends, we bought a blanket and a mattress and carried Monica’s lifeless body to our car. We drove her home to be buried. We grieved with a family over the loss of their daughter, their sister, and—for two precious children—the loss of their mother. Once again, I was struck today by the cruelty of HIV/AIDS. It seeks only to steal, kill, and destroy life—and not from the infected alone. But I was also reminded of an even greater truth: God is love. He has entrusted us, His children, to extend Him, through compassion, to the oppressed and broken-hearted.
This alone is the hope for this broken world.
(Be sure to read Davis and Jen's entries to learn what happened with the two children orphaned by Monica's death.)
~ Juli McGowan
ELI Family Nurse Practitioner
Monica’s story quickly threw me back into the harsh reality of what it looks like to be poor and to live with AIDS. The 31-year-old mother of two was under treatment for tuberculosis and had woken up critically ill. Without access to a car, or means to take a cab, she was forced to travel on the back of an open truck and then walk to reach the clinic. Her mother supported her weak body, but by the time they arrived at the clinic, Monica was gasping for air. She passed away before she could be treated.
If this were not traumatic enough, Monica’s mother had no way to transport her daughter’s body home to be buried.
As I stood in the examination room with this grieving mother, these words ran through my head: “If any of you has possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in you? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but in action and in truth” (1 John 3:16-18). I chose to listen to the Voice that was calling me to love. With the help of several of my Kenyan friends, we bought a blanket and a mattress and carried Monica’s lifeless body to our car. We drove her home to be buried. We grieved with a family over the loss of their daughter, their sister, and—for two precious children—the loss of their mother. Once again, I was struck today by the cruelty of HIV/AIDS. It seeks only to steal, kill, and destroy life—and not from the infected alone. But I was also reminded of an even greater truth: God is love. He has entrusted us, His children, to extend Him, through compassion, to the oppressed and broken-hearted.
This alone is the hope for this broken world.
(Be sure to read Davis and Jen's entries to learn what happened with the two children orphaned by Monica's death.)
~ Juli McGowan
ELI Family Nurse Practitioner
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Life in Kenya
There are some things about life in Kenya that I know to be true, yet I am still surprised when I am confronted by them. For example, I know that the pace of life is slower, the concept of personal space disappears when riding in a car or sitting in church and the idea of “safety” isn’t the god it is in the U.S., but it’s so easy to forget when you’re used to doing things your way.
This was illustrated during my second week in Kipkaren, when I asked to catch a ride to the market with the ELI vehicle. No problem! The truck would be leaving at about 9am, they said, and there was plenty of room for me. I scurried around that morning getting the girls and myself ready for what would be our first time without each other since we’d arrived in Kenya.
I checked in at the office at 9:07-ish and Cosmos, the driver, said we just had to wait for Betty and we’d go. I hopped into the car, put my seatbelt on and waited. One hour, 2 more goodbyes to the girls, and 10 passengers-in-a-cab-meant-for-5 later, I was laughing at myself for thinking I’d be wearing (or needing) a seatbelt.
Another part of life here that always startles me, though it’s a common enough occurrence, is when people ask for money. Sometimes this request is demanded belligerently by drunk young men on the side of the road – “Mzungu, give me 10 shillings!” This type of solicitation is ignorable. Sometimes it comes from glassy-eyed street kids in Eldoret, high from whiffing glue, hungry for so much more than bread. More often, though, the requests come from earnest strangers who know that if you don’t ask, you definitely won’t receive.
One day when Lillian, Elami and I walked into Kipkaren town, a woman asked Lillian in Swahili if it was OK to ask me for her daughter’s school fees. Lillian said no, but the woman asked anyway. I said, "Welcome to my home and we can talk more about a good way for us to help," but she never came.
Recently, Elami, Tovah and I were playing outside our compound, when a very pregnant woman came by. We exchanged the usual greetings and then she asked for Bishop Tarus. “Bishop” is our director here and his name gets passed around for miles as someone who can help people. He often talks to us at staff meetings about the fact that ELI helps people in ways that are empowering, but that many people still just want a handout. From the time he wakes up in the morning till late at night, he talks with people who have traveled from far to ask him for money or jobs. It’s exhausting for him, but he still tries – and urges us staff – to treat these people with compassion and to at least be ready to listen.
“Bishop is in America right now,” I told the woman.
She asked “Where do you live?” Ugh! Dreading where this conversation was going, I pointed down the road a short piece – just there.
“Tuende,” she said – let’s go.
My mind shouted “NO!” and raced with lame excuses. The familiar feeling of extreme discomfort over money issues reared its ugly head. Empowerment is tricky. It’s a distant notion when a young mom, pregnant, without obvious resources is telling you she’s hungry and she wants to come to your house. But a handout is not helpful in the long run either.
I hesitated, but God said “Relax – just start with a cup of tea.” A cup of tea I can do, so I said “Karibu, tuende.” Welcome, let’s go.
Over our cup of tea, I learned that this young woman has two other small children at home and that she had indeed planned to ask Bishop for money. We talked about family planning and child spacing – a little too late, I’m afraid. Then I struggled in Swahili through a story from 2 Kings 4. A widow cried out to Elisha for help – her family was in debt and a creditor was coming to take her two sons as slaves if she couldn’t pay. Elisha asked two questions – "How can I help?" And "What do you have in your house?" The woman said she had nothing, except for a little olive oil. Elisha asked her to go and gather as many jars as she could, then to go back to her house and pour oil from her jar into all the jars. When there were no more jars, there was no more oil to pour. She sold the oil and paid off her debts and had more for her and her sons to live off of.
This story is the ultimate model for empowerment. What if she had thought, “Whatever! That’s too much work”? And what if she had gone to ask someone else for help? Maybe she would have gotten some money, but probably not enough to get her out of her trouble completely, and almost certainly not enough to sustain her and her sons. What if Elisha had simply given her money because he didn’t want the discomfort of saying no? She would have missed an opportunity to grow in faith and confidence.
The woman in my living room needed such an opportunity. The trick for us is finding ways for people to bring the jars, so to speak. Coincidentally, an acquaintance of mine had arranged to come later the same afternoon to talk about options for her children’s school fees. Davis and I had talked over possibilities ahead of time – a micro loan? Or could we sponsor her for an ELI empowerment training weekend Ilula to learn about bread ovens and small business management? Maybe I could buy some of the crafts this woman makes…
There are ways for people to bring their jars; ways to chip away at poverty one story at a time. These ways take time and require effort and faith - on both sides of the equation.
So, after a cup of chai and a chat, I gave the woman a few bananas to take home, from my children to hers. She left with a broad grin and promised to come to the clinic for prenatal care. I escorted her up our path, wondering what I had accomplished. Was that an effective interaction? Had I done the right thing? Was it the right mix of being open and willing, but not giving a handout?
Like I said, empowerment is tricky. But people like the Marus prove that these things are attainable. The Marus are not wealthy, lofty people, unable to identify with those touched by poverty. They are an average Kenyan family, themselves empowered to break free from unemployment and poverty, who are turning around and empowering others.
Yesterday, I told Emily Maru how blessed I was that she and Mr. Maru had been so willing to open their homes. I wish you all could meet the Marus. Kelvine and Ivine have not just found a secure roof over their heads–the Marus will love them thoroughly and unconditionally.
There’s no easy way to wrap up this message, like there’s no easy way to wrap up each request for help. We’re all just people. We need your prayers that we’ll be willing to listen and ready with wise answers that have the right mix of “How can I help?” and “What do you have in your house?”
Jen Davis
ELI Maternal/Child Health Nurse
This was illustrated during my second week in Kipkaren, when I asked to catch a ride to the market with the ELI vehicle. No problem! The truck would be leaving at about 9am, they said, and there was plenty of room for me. I scurried around that morning getting the girls and myself ready for what would be our first time without each other since we’d arrived in Kenya.
I checked in at the office at 9:07-ish and Cosmos, the driver, said we just had to wait for Betty and we’d go. I hopped into the car, put my seatbelt on and waited. One hour, 2 more goodbyes to the girls, and 10 passengers-in-a-cab-meant-for-5 later, I was laughing at myself for thinking I’d be wearing (or needing) a seatbelt.
Another part of life here that always startles me, though it’s a common enough occurrence, is when people ask for money. Sometimes this request is demanded belligerently by drunk young men on the side of the road – “Mzungu, give me 10 shillings!” This type of solicitation is ignorable. Sometimes it comes from glassy-eyed street kids in Eldoret, high from whiffing glue, hungry for so much more than bread. More often, though, the requests come from earnest strangers who know that if you don’t ask, you definitely won’t receive.
One day when Lillian, Elami and I walked into Kipkaren town, a woman asked Lillian in Swahili if it was OK to ask me for her daughter’s school fees. Lillian said no, but the woman asked anyway. I said, "Welcome to my home and we can talk more about a good way for us to help," but she never came.
Recently, Elami, Tovah and I were playing outside our compound, when a very pregnant woman came by. We exchanged the usual greetings and then she asked for Bishop Tarus. “Bishop” is our director here and his name gets passed around for miles as someone who can help people. He often talks to us at staff meetings about the fact that ELI helps people in ways that are empowering, but that many people still just want a handout. From the time he wakes up in the morning till late at night, he talks with people who have traveled from far to ask him for money or jobs. It’s exhausting for him, but he still tries – and urges us staff – to treat these people with compassion and to at least be ready to listen.
“Bishop is in America right now,” I told the woman.
She asked “Where do you live?” Ugh! Dreading where this conversation was going, I pointed down the road a short piece – just there.
“Tuende,” she said – let’s go.
My mind shouted “NO!” and raced with lame excuses. The familiar feeling of extreme discomfort over money issues reared its ugly head. Empowerment is tricky. It’s a distant notion when a young mom, pregnant, without obvious resources is telling you she’s hungry and she wants to come to your house. But a handout is not helpful in the long run either.
I hesitated, but God said “Relax – just start with a cup of tea.” A cup of tea I can do, so I said “Karibu, tuende.” Welcome, let’s go.
Over our cup of tea, I learned that this young woman has two other small children at home and that she had indeed planned to ask Bishop for money. We talked about family planning and child spacing – a little too late, I’m afraid. Then I struggled in Swahili through a story from 2 Kings 4. A widow cried out to Elisha for help – her family was in debt and a creditor was coming to take her two sons as slaves if she couldn’t pay. Elisha asked two questions – "How can I help?" And "What do you have in your house?" The woman said she had nothing, except for a little olive oil. Elisha asked her to go and gather as many jars as she could, then to go back to her house and pour oil from her jar into all the jars. When there were no more jars, there was no more oil to pour. She sold the oil and paid off her debts and had more for her and her sons to live off of.
This story is the ultimate model for empowerment. What if she had thought, “Whatever! That’s too much work”? And what if she had gone to ask someone else for help? Maybe she would have gotten some money, but probably not enough to get her out of her trouble completely, and almost certainly not enough to sustain her and her sons. What if Elisha had simply given her money because he didn’t want the discomfort of saying no? She would have missed an opportunity to grow in faith and confidence.
The woman in my living room needed such an opportunity. The trick for us is finding ways for people to bring the jars, so to speak. Coincidentally, an acquaintance of mine had arranged to come later the same afternoon to talk about options for her children’s school fees. Davis and I had talked over possibilities ahead of time – a micro loan? Or could we sponsor her for an ELI empowerment training weekend Ilula to learn about bread ovens and small business management? Maybe I could buy some of the crafts this woman makes…
There are ways for people to bring their jars; ways to chip away at poverty one story at a time. These ways take time and require effort and faith - on both sides of the equation.
So, after a cup of chai and a chat, I gave the woman a few bananas to take home, from my children to hers. She left with a broad grin and promised to come to the clinic for prenatal care. I escorted her up our path, wondering what I had accomplished. Was that an effective interaction? Had I done the right thing? Was it the right mix of being open and willing, but not giving a handout?
Like I said, empowerment is tricky. But people like the Marus prove that these things are attainable. The Marus are not wealthy, lofty people, unable to identify with those touched by poverty. They are an average Kenyan family, themselves empowered to break free from unemployment and poverty, who are turning around and empowering others.
Yesterday, I told Emily Maru how blessed I was that she and Mr. Maru had been so willing to open their homes. I wish you all could meet the Marus. Kelvine and Ivine have not just found a secure roof over their heads–the Marus will love them thoroughly and unconditionally.
There’s no easy way to wrap up this message, like there’s no easy way to wrap up each request for help. We’re all just people. We need your prayers that we’ll be willing to listen and ready with wise answers that have the right mix of “How can I help?” and “What do you have in your house?”
Jen Davis
ELI Maternal/Child Health Nurse
The Other Side of Empowerment
Last Tuesday Juli, an ELI staff member who heads up the HIV/AIDS home-based care program was on her way to an event when she stopped at our cooperating AIDS clinic. Upon arrival, Juli learned that a young woman had also just arrived, and died soon thereafter. The woman was accompanied by her elderly mother, who had neither the support nor the resources to face burying her now dead daughter. (Read more of this story here.)
Seeing the need, Juli and two of our Kenyan staff dropped their plans for the day and drove the body home to a remote area 30 kilometers away. Once there, they learned more of the story—that the woman had been the wage earner for the entire family, and a single mother leaving behind two children. God moved the hearts of these two Kenyan men, who realized their own wealth in contrast to the 9 people living under a leaking thatch-roofed, single room home, and decided they must do something.
This was truly empowerment. It was not done with foreign sponsorship, or because it was some organization’s duty. This was done because two men who understand the call of Jesus to love others saw a need, and chose to meet it. Maru, a driver for ELI, and the head of a family himself, volunteered to take the children into his home. This has not been done here before, but since there was a need and a solution, ELI proceeded with the screening and case study that is done to ensure we have followed the best process in transitioning orphans, and yesterday a blue Toyota brought the two orphans to their new home.
They were greeted by a gathering of singing children and teachers who sang for them, greeted them, and prayed for them upon their arrival. All their possessions fit in a plastic bag, but the smiles on their faces filled the sky.
Today I taught both of them in class. Kelvine, the elder brother in math and science, and Ivine, the sister in PE. It reminded me that this is why I’m here: to participate in giving hope to those who did not have it. I sometimes forget that 100 of my students are AIDS orphans—in the same place just one year ago, but now healthy, thriving kids with families and futures.
Pray for the same for Kelvine and Ivine, and also for their new family, the Marus. Praise God too, for the work he is doing through empowered Kenyans.
~ D. Davis
ELI Teacher
Seeing the need, Juli and two of our Kenyan staff dropped their plans for the day and drove the body home to a remote area 30 kilometers away. Once there, they learned more of the story—that the woman had been the wage earner for the entire family, and a single mother leaving behind two children. God moved the hearts of these two Kenyan men, who realized their own wealth in contrast to the 9 people living under a leaking thatch-roofed, single room home, and decided they must do something.
This was truly empowerment. It was not done with foreign sponsorship, or because it was some organization’s duty. This was done because two men who understand the call of Jesus to love others saw a need, and chose to meet it. Maru, a driver for ELI, and the head of a family himself, volunteered to take the children into his home. This has not been done here before, but since there was a need and a solution, ELI proceeded with the screening and case study that is done to ensure we have followed the best process in transitioning orphans, and yesterday a blue Toyota brought the two orphans to their new home.
They were greeted by a gathering of singing children and teachers who sang for them, greeted them, and prayed for them upon their arrival. All their possessions fit in a plastic bag, but the smiles on their faces filled the sky.
Today I taught both of them in class. Kelvine, the elder brother in math and science, and Ivine, the sister in PE. It reminded me that this is why I’m here: to participate in giving hope to those who did not have it. I sometimes forget that 100 of my students are AIDS orphans—in the same place just one year ago, but now healthy, thriving kids with families and futures.
Pray for the same for Kelvine and Ivine, and also for their new family, the Marus. Praise God too, for the work he is doing through empowered Kenyans.
~ D. Davis
ELI Teacher
Friday, June 15, 2007
Get a Goat
In a village region in Eastern D.R. Congo, three hours south of the country's second largest city of Bukavu, is an area called Chihonga. This 60-square-mile area contains 11 villages that roughly 22,000 people call home. Suffering from the wake of Interahamwe rebels fleeing the ’94 Rwandan genocide as well as from the Congo’s own instability and war, family life in Chihonga has been hit hard.
During the last 15 years of conflict, this area has been wrecked by rebels moving into the village raping women, killing families, and stealing crops and livestock. A culture that is completely dependent on cows and livestock has been completely stripped of its most important asset, and the landscape in the beautiful hilly region is almost completely void of any livestock. It is an eerie sight to behold.
ELI Congo moved into this area in 2005 with a micro-loan project that included co-op training groups which focused on gaining new skills in sustainable agriculture and replenishing the soil of much-needed nutrients. With the absence of life stock manure combined with already-low yield staple foods such as cassava, Chihonga residence have not even been able to eat once a day on a regular basis.
In November 2006, Mirhima M’Muyahula, a 25-year-old widow with four children, was one of the 105 recipients of the goat-loan program. Using her new goat combined with the training she received, she used a zero-grazing unit for the goat, bringing the food to the goat. This does not only fatten up the goat, but it also enables her to collect the manure and use it for her crops. Mirhima is, “…thankful for the training [she] received and [for] the goat.” Before she only had enough beans to feed her children maybe once a day, and now, only seven months later, she “has more beans than she knows what to do with.”
How will she repay the loan? By giving back the first baby of the goat. If she gets six more goats, she will be able to purchase a cow benefiting even more and having the opportunity to sell milk in the market.
Not even one year into the loan program, these 105 recipients lives have been changed through something as simple as a single goat. The true joy on Mirhima’s face is undeniable; she can now feel confident in her family’s future and her means to support them.
Text and photo by Micah Albert
During the last 15 years of conflict, this area has been wrecked by rebels moving into the village raping women, killing families, and stealing crops and livestock. A culture that is completely dependent on cows and livestock has been completely stripped of its most important asset, and the landscape in the beautiful hilly region is almost completely void of any livestock. It is an eerie sight to behold.
ELI Congo moved into this area in 2005 with a micro-loan project that included co-op training groups which focused on gaining new skills in sustainable agriculture and replenishing the soil of much-needed nutrients. With the absence of life stock manure combined with already-low yield staple foods such as cassava, Chihonga residence have not even been able to eat once a day on a regular basis.
In November 2006, Mirhima M’Muyahula, a 25-year-old widow with four children, was one of the 105 recipients of the goat-loan program. Using her new goat combined with the training she received, she used a zero-grazing unit for the goat, bringing the food to the goat. This does not only fatten up the goat, but it also enables her to collect the manure and use it for her crops. Mirhima is, “…thankful for the training [she] received and [for] the goat.” Before she only had enough beans to feed her children maybe once a day, and now, only seven months later, she “has more beans than she knows what to do with.”
How will she repay the loan? By giving back the first baby of the goat. If she gets six more goats, she will be able to purchase a cow benefiting even more and having the opportunity to sell milk in the market.Not even one year into the loan program, these 105 recipients lives have been changed through something as simple as a single goat. The true joy on Mirhima’s face is undeniable; she can now feel confident in her family’s future and her means to support them.
Text and photo by Micah Albert
Rebuilding a Life in War-torn Congo
On November 1, 2006, Angeline Balungwe was a recipient of the ELI Congo micro-loan in Chihonga, D.R. Congo, a remote village in the South Kivu province in Eastern Congo. Angeline a 30 year-old widow. Her husband was killed in the war in 2002, and she has been farming the local cassava root, the staple food in this region, to feed her and her five children.Because of the war, rebel activity has taken out livestock of any kind, leaving people no manure to put back vital nutrients into the soil. The result is an extremely low yield crop, producing tubers the size of ones thumb, leaving the families like Angeline’s with very little food. Ten roots from the local cassava produces one kilo of cassava flour, and one kilo will produce two loaves of cassava bread, enough to feed three people for one day.
Formerly: Ten roots = 1 kg flour = 2 loaves of bread
Now: One root = 1 kg flour = 2 loaves of bread
Now: One root = 1 kg flour = 2 loaves of bread
ELI has introduced a new Nigerian-hybrid cassava that produces roots that are one kilo each, with up to six of these roots per plant. It starts producing these in less than nine months - less than half the time of the local version.
Only eight months after planting, Angeline has now begun to harvest her first cassava roots. After pulling up her very first plant from the ground, she could hardly believe her eyes. With the roots from one plant, she exclaimed, she could feed her family twice a day and would have enough left over at the end of the day. And with this harvest, she will have up to 10 cassava seedlings to replant the next year, sell them in the community or give them away to friends and family.
The idea is spreading through out this 100-square-kilometer region of 11 villages, and people are on their way to rebuilding a life in this war-torn part of the nation.
Text and photo by Micah Albert
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
What are your fears related to HIV?
What are your fears related to HIV?
This is the question asked to open a three-day training on what it means to be a caregiver. After an hour of people sharing their responses, the room grows quiet. The realities of HIV, the fears surrounding it are realized.
Then a second question is posed: Is there hope? Once again, silence fills the room. It is a sobering moment; but I have seen it again and again, with fears identified, they lose their power. Space for hope to rise is given. Now, we can begin the training.This week, 23 trainees have traveled from their homes, from various churches in surrounding villages. These individuals may not know the horrifying statistic that says in Sub-Saharan Africa alone, 25 million people are infected with the virus that causes AIDS. But they know their neighbor who keeps being diagnosed with malaria but never recovers. They have attended the burial of their brother and then their sister-in-law. They now have four more children to feed. To these, HIV is not a statistic. It is a nightmare.
Over the past two and a half years, ELI’s Tumaini na Afya (Hope & Health), have trained nearly 300 people the art of caregiving by increasing their knowledge surrounding HIV, proper nutrition, the importance of HIV testing, how to connect the sick with testing and then treatment. For all who are willing, the opportunity for them to learn their HIV status is provided. The last day of the course has been termed “Loving Day” provides the trainees practical experience. They go with members of our team to visit clients within our community. They go to encourage, to assist. They practice what they have learned with the goal that they will take this to their communities.
As I was teaching this morning, I was convinced again: There is hope. There is hope, because there is a God who has not, who cannot, forget his children. As members of the Church of Jesus Christ, we are called to be His hands, His feet. The need is great. The opportunities are limitless.~ Juli McGowan
ELI Family Nurse Practitioner
Saturday, June 02, 2007
News from the Congo
We received this message from Terry in the Congo:
"It has been a great day in Bukavu, Congo. We spent 7 hours visiting the ELI school. It is located in the heart of a slum. During the war in 2000, the slum was essentially in the crossfire of the conflict. People were killed and children had nowhere to run. Today, the ELI school sits like a beacon on the hillside. The community believes it was 'dropped from heaven' as one mother told us today.
"When we arrived, we were greeted by 350 singing children. They danced for us, read poems of thanks, enacted a drama written by the students to express what life was like before and after the school was created. We spent over an hour listening to the teachers, encouraging them, and
sharing together. We then visited the 6 classrooms (grade 1-6) with children ranging from 5 to 15. A typical classroom had 4 children per bench with 45-55 students per grade. They are served 1 meal each day...for many it is their only meal of the day. The feeding program was created because children would start crying after being in school for a few hours due to hunger pains. Upon completion of grade 6, the students take a national test and for the last 3 years have had a 100% passing rate. Amazing.
"At 1:30, the children leave the school and the 2nd shift comes in . . . they call them the Orientation Classes. Normally a child would continue with school but we do not have the classrooms or teachers to offer a secondary school. This limits the students' future . . . they cannot go on to a university. But the 2-year orientation program prepares them to attend a future vocational school where they learn sewing, mechanics, agriculture, etc. At the end of the program, one very sharp young boy asked what was next for him. He wanted to become a doctor . . . others wanted to be journalists, nurses, pastors, teachers. It was difficult to say that right now, we have nothing more to offer. We walked away desperately wanting to find a way to bring these kids to reality.
"On Saturday, Lindsey, Terry, and Estelle will be traveling by boat from Goma to Bukavu. They will be accompanied by an immigration officer to help minimize the bribes and expedite their journey. Micah, Kierra, Ron and Julius will be travelling to Chihonga, a remote village 2 hours away. ELI has a 'goat loan/giving' project which is transforming the region. More on this another time. Please pray for safe journeys. This land is not easy; the wars have done damage and caused suffering beyond belief."
Please pray . . .
- for continued safety for the team
- that God will use this time to bless to Congolese as well as to speak to the hearts of each person on the team
- that God will continue to show ELI how we can minister to the Congolese, to bring hope, and to establish his Kingdom in their midst
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Pray for Rain
Experts from a message from the Davis family, who joined ELI Kipkaren earlier this year. We've had some rain on and off, but not as much as we need. This rainy season proves to be awfully dry. Here's what Davis wrote...
"It is rainy season in Kenya, and in Kipkaren, a farming community, rain is a serious thing. Rain means food. The rows of maize growing in every field are next year’s meals—they are this society’s future. Cultural perceptions of food are so connected with availability. In America we never wonder if we will eat, instead we decide what we will eat, or where. It’s a different mentality—one where those in small towns get teased for only having 3 or 4 fast food joints to choose from. We go to one supermarket over another because “its produce is fresher” or they “have a better selection of seafood.”
Here in Kenya, which is a fertile country with one of Africa’s higher standards of living, people know exactly where their food is coming from—their gardens. So rain and drought are deeply meaningful things. People watch the skies as each day the sun passes over their maize without rain, leaving their crops a little drier. When it does rain it brings smiles—never nursery rhymes wishing it would go away.
Yesterday, my 5th grade class read a story in their text book about drought. In the story, the residents of Nyasini foolishly celebrate the end of the rains which tragically disappear for 12 months, leaving the people destitute and dying. My students understand the connection between rain and life. When they wrote their assignments, it was interesting to see how many spoke of the necessary intervention of God to end drought or said that rain was God’s blessing.
“We are not ignorant” prayed the director of the orphanage at a recent meeting. “We know how rain comes.” He is a well-spoken, well-educated man whom the children call grandfather. “We know rain is from you, God!” His college education does not keep him from pleading to God that the five acres of maize he has planted to feed the orphans will produce.
With his hands up and sweat beading on his forehead he calls on God to feed his children. In the staff meeting the foster parents sound their own opinion without bashfulness. They have done everything they can—plowing, planting, weeding; now it is up to God to water if he chooses.
Some of them have little education, while others are academic, understanding the CNN meteorologist’s explanations of barometric pressure, of winds, ocean currents, or global weather patterns. But those things seem empty. Weather is not simply scientific explanation or probability.
In the West we easily accept the odds like the “75% chance of rain today” as if the weather is simply rolling of the atmospheric dice. While our neighbors may resign themselves to the number shown on dice (today’s weather) they would never believe that the dice roll themselves.
I realize not everyone who reads our newsletters believes in God, but this mentality is a challenge to the believer or the atheist—it’s a challenge to accept how little we control in the world, and that we must blindly accept the odds, or give credit to something superior than ourselves.
So it is without spiritual skepticism or academic assurance that the people of Kipkaren, ourselves included, young and old, scholar and ignorant, humbly approach God, asking him to rain.
As the dark clouds roll past us again today without a drop released, we ask you also to consider those things in your life that you might enjoy without pondering their greater purpose. Africa reminds us how out of control life truly is, and how much we rely on the grace of God.
Thank you again for your support, prayers, and emails. You are our rain."
"It is rainy season in Kenya, and in Kipkaren, a farming community, rain is a serious thing. Rain means food. The rows of maize growing in every field are next year’s meals—they are this society’s future. Cultural perceptions of food are so connected with availability. In America we never wonder if we will eat, instead we decide what we will eat, or where. It’s a different mentality—one where those in small towns get teased for only having 3 or 4 fast food joints to choose from. We go to one supermarket over another because “its produce is fresher” or they “have a better selection of seafood.”
Here in Kenya, which is a fertile country with one of Africa’s higher standards of living, people know exactly where their food is coming from—their gardens. So rain and drought are deeply meaningful things. People watch the skies as each day the sun passes over their maize without rain, leaving their crops a little drier. When it does rain it brings smiles—never nursery rhymes wishing it would go away.
Yesterday, my 5th grade class read a story in their text book about drought. In the story, the residents of Nyasini foolishly celebrate the end of the rains which tragically disappear for 12 months, leaving the people destitute and dying. My students understand the connection between rain and life. When they wrote their assignments, it was interesting to see how many spoke of the necessary intervention of God to end drought or said that rain was God’s blessing.
“We are not ignorant” prayed the director of the orphanage at a recent meeting. “We know how rain comes.” He is a well-spoken, well-educated man whom the children call grandfather. “We know rain is from you, God!” His college education does not keep him from pleading to God that the five acres of maize he has planted to feed the orphans will produce.
With his hands up and sweat beading on his forehead he calls on God to feed his children. In the staff meeting the foster parents sound their own opinion without bashfulness. They have done everything they can—plowing, planting, weeding; now it is up to God to water if he chooses.
Some of them have little education, while others are academic, understanding the CNN meteorologist’s explanations of barometric pressure, of winds, ocean currents, or global weather patterns. But those things seem empty. Weather is not simply scientific explanation or probability.
In the West we easily accept the odds like the “75% chance of rain today” as if the weather is simply rolling of the atmospheric dice. While our neighbors may resign themselves to the number shown on dice (today’s weather) they would never believe that the dice roll themselves.
I realize not everyone who reads our newsletters believes in God, but this mentality is a challenge to the believer or the atheist—it’s a challenge to accept how little we control in the world, and that we must blindly accept the odds, or give credit to something superior than ourselves.
So it is without spiritual skepticism or academic assurance that the people of Kipkaren, ourselves included, young and old, scholar and ignorant, humbly approach God, asking him to rain.
As the dark clouds roll past us again today without a drop released, we ask you also to consider those things in your life that you might enjoy without pondering their greater purpose. Africa reminds us how out of control life truly is, and how much we rely on the grace of God.
Thank you again for your support, prayers, and emails. You are our rain."
Monday, May 07, 2007
Rehab Graduation: New Beginnings
On Saturday, May 5th, a group of 13 recovered alcoholics graduated from the Kenya Anti-Alcohol program. To celebrate their sobriety and welcome them back into their communities, extended family members and groups from various churches gathered in Ilula.The 200 or more guests sat patiently as one after another man stood up and shared a bit of his story. Many invited their families forward. "Step 9 of the 12 steps," explained Kefa, "is to make amends. Will my family please come forward? I would like to ask their forgiveness for all I had done."
As his mother and a group of church elders stepped forward, Kefa told the audience that he had put his mother in great misery. "I had sold everything in her house. I ruined her life. Ma, will you forgive me? Will you allow me to start over?" The young man broke into tears, though crying is considered very unmanly in his culture. One could tell that he truly was remorseful. There was hardly a dry eye in the audience as his mother held him tight. He thanked God for healing him of "the disease of alcohol."In response to her son's testimony, Kefa's mom, Helen, encouraged the audience to keep praying for other alcoholics in their families. "There were times when I thought God had gone to lunch, or that he is sleeping, but finally, he answered my prayer. My son is back."
Others followed, some being uncomfortable hugging family and friends, others holding family members tight.
Ben from Moi's Bridge explained how he expected to be admitted to a prison-like facility, and was surprised to find that they had the freedom to choose every day if they'll stay and abide by the rules, or leave. "I had wasted 1 million schillings (US$14,000) on alcohol!" he confessed. "My mom even turned to witchcraft to help. It didn't work..." He thanked his uncle for intervening on his behalf and bringing him to the rehab center. His father shared how he has known others who have gone through this same program. "I can see great changes in these people," his father said with tears in his eyes. "Now, let the Bible be your light on the road forward."Malakwen, an old man who used to be a traditional circumsiser in his community told everyone that he came to know Christ at the center. "You are young," he told his cohorts. "Make good choices. You still have your life before you."
College professor Patrick Kitela reminded his cohorts that there are two ways: one leads to destruction, one to Life. "The quickest way to destruction," he said, "is to let alcohol take your life." He explained that even though he has a master's degree in engineering, he has made poor choices. "Please pray for us to be able to withstand temptation," he asked the audience.
Julius from Ziwa proudly stood by his son, explaining that he will be a good father. His wife had left him with their son, tired of her husband's drinking habits.
Another Julius explained that he was the only one in their family who was not saved, and the only one who was an alcoholic. "But since April 14, I am walking with God."He told how he started drinking as a high school student, using the school fees his parents gave him to buy alcohol and later also drugs. He finally dropped out of school.
Tenai's wife expressed her gratitude that her husband will return to her and their son. "Before, my husband didn't always come home at night... I know he'll be faithful now."This was ELI's final graduating class from the Kenya Anti-Alcohol facility. A new ministry was launched this weekend, called "ELI Anti-Alcohol Ministry" (or ELI AA). Through ELI AA, we will continue to reach out to the poor, while KAA will focus on those in the community who can afford to pay for rehab. Pastor Rono will remain with KAA while the rest of the staff are remaining with ELI AA.
Please pray for both of these groups as we continue to reach out to alcoholics in Kenya.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Davis' Take on the Time in Sudan
Thank you for your prayers—I am safely back from Sudan, and one week later I am working on my fourth draft of this letter…. But how to explain Sudan?
I stood on top of the wreckage of a MIG 23 fighter jet that had been shot down during Sudan’s decades-long civil war. As I surveyed the craft now mutilated as if the object of continual vengeance of every Sudanese boy who walks by, I couldn’t help marveling at the tremendous human effort that went into this machine. I don’t know the details, but I can assume that hundreds of engineers, scientists, and researchers, plus millions of dollars went into building a machine that was designed to kill. Tremendous cost and human effort went into a machine used to shoot Dinka tribesmen, women and children, to drop bombs on villages, hospitals and schools…
During our time in Sudan we heard a lot of stories. Everyone has their own war story from a 22 year conflict that began in 1983 when the Arab-controlled government of Sudan imposed Muslim Sharia Law on the African, Christian South. When the regional southern government was dissolved, several rebel groups began fighting for an independent Sudan. The result was a war of modern weapons being used against African villagers. Elizabeth tells her story of walking with three friends when they decided to rest. Elizabeth decided to leave them briefly to see her uncle. Minutes later Antinov bombers arrived, and while she hid in a hole, her friends died on the open Bor plains. Abraham is a “Lost Boy” who ran from the bombs in the middle of the night. He told of his journey on foot, at night, to Ethiopia hundreds of miles away, only to be attacked in the refugee camp by armored vehicles and driven back into the Sudanese conflict.
So it is into this country that ELI is trying to bring empowerment. We chartered a small plane to bring us in, that was forced to land on an unintended airstrip due to bad weather. No matter, we were warmly welcomed anyway, by people who were not expecting us, and whom we had never met. Shortly after they gave us tea and prepared places for us to sleep, Stephen Reech, the Sudanese ELI director arrived with a flatbed truck to take us “home.” We said our goodbye’s to our new friends, and then spent the next couple hours bumping along a dirt road past innumerable homesteads of returning refugees. Their houses are grass thatched with short 3 foot mud walls. Also in the compound is a luak, a giant grass house made to shelter their cows, the main livelihood of the Dinka Tribe.
The ELI compound has three projects right now, all at various points of construction. First, is an agricultural training center (incomplete) being built to empower people through growing food. This is a difficult task as the Sudanese have not enjoyed enough stability to cultivate for over 20 years. Second, is a home for orphans (one building has walls and roof, not finished). The third is an elementary school—which was my primary interest, and my reason for coming. It is nothing but a roof so far, but it is well-attended by over 120 kids in grade 1-4. Obviously, in a country without infrastructure, education is only recently available, so there are very few children in the upper grades. On the day we counted we found 80 in 1st grade, 26 in 2nd, 12 in 3rd, and 5 in 4th. There are 100 more students enrolled but not present, as they are off caring for the cattle. The students sit in the dirt under the roof of their wall-less school learning numbers, letters, and reading off of the blackboard.
In these conditions I was amazed by the dedication of the teachers—4 high school graduates who all completed their studies in refugee camps outside of Sudan. I spent time talking with them, providing some teacher training, and also teaching in the school. The thermometer read over 120 F when I completed teaching a lesson on factors to 4th grade by dividing piles of rocks in the sand. I was amazed by their desire for education.
I visited 2 other schools during my time in Sudan, and found the conditions the same: unfinished, unfurnished schools, packed to capacity. One school had 70 1st graders in a classroom, and another 70 outside under a tree. The day before I left I was able to go into Bor town with Kiptoo, a Kenyan nurse (Jen’s supervisor at the clinic) where we bought 10 boards—the first furniture for this school.
I could go on and on about Sudan. Maybe if I ever get around to updating my blog I’ll tell about the 2 snakes we killed, the quart of fresh-from-the-cow unpasteurized milk I drank, of swimming with the herds boys in a water hole full of dung and littered with animal carcasses, or of visiting a man in the hospital with an AK-47 bullet wound to the head.
But Sudan was not about adventure, it was about people. I had great hope when I saw my 4th graders performing well on their math using gravel. I felt hopeless in the Bor hospital looking at toddlers whose arms were thinner than 2 of my fingers, whose legs were thinner than 3 of my fingers, but whose eyes were as big as my own daughter’s. I loved the life and energy of the machine-gun-toting men who wanted me to photograph them with their weapons and their tall, long-horned cattle, but I was sad to know that their guns also testify that peace has not come to Sudan as the Darfur genocide rages.
Sudan was incredibly different, yet when I worshiped in a packed church in a foreign language I felt right at home.
It has made me think about some things differently: What’s more valuable: a MIG 23 fighter jet or a 4th grade education? So as ELI explores its goals in Sudan, please pray for God’s wisdom. Please also pray (or act) about the bloodshed that goes on in Darfur.
I will quit there. Thanks again for your prayers. Jen and the girls did fine while I was gone too.
God Bless,
Davis
I stood on top of the wreckage of a MIG 23 fighter jet that had been shot down during Sudan’s decades-long civil war. As I surveyed the craft now mutilated as if the object of continual vengeance of every Sudanese boy who walks by, I couldn’t help marveling at the tremendous human effort that went into this machine. I don’t know the details, but I can assume that hundreds of engineers, scientists, and researchers, plus millions of dollars went into building a machine that was designed to kill. Tremendous cost and human effort went into a machine used to shoot Dinka tribesmen, women and children, to drop bombs on villages, hospitals and schools…
During our time in Sudan we heard a lot of stories. Everyone has their own war story from a 22 year conflict that began in 1983 when the Arab-controlled government of Sudan imposed Muslim Sharia Law on the African, Christian South. When the regional southern government was dissolved, several rebel groups began fighting for an independent Sudan. The result was a war of modern weapons being used against African villagers. Elizabeth tells her story of walking with three friends when they decided to rest. Elizabeth decided to leave them briefly to see her uncle. Minutes later Antinov bombers arrived, and while she hid in a hole, her friends died on the open Bor plains. Abraham is a “Lost Boy” who ran from the bombs in the middle of the night. He told of his journey on foot, at night, to Ethiopia hundreds of miles away, only to be attacked in the refugee camp by armored vehicles and driven back into the Sudanese conflict.
So it is into this country that ELI is trying to bring empowerment. We chartered a small plane to bring us in, that was forced to land on an unintended airstrip due to bad weather. No matter, we were warmly welcomed anyway, by people who were not expecting us, and whom we had never met. Shortly after they gave us tea and prepared places for us to sleep, Stephen Reech, the Sudanese ELI director arrived with a flatbed truck to take us “home.” We said our goodbye’s to our new friends, and then spent the next couple hours bumping along a dirt road past innumerable homesteads of returning refugees. Their houses are grass thatched with short 3 foot mud walls. Also in the compound is a luak, a giant grass house made to shelter their cows, the main livelihood of the Dinka Tribe.
The ELI compound has three projects right now, all at various points of construction. First, is an agricultural training center (incomplete) being built to empower people through growing food. This is a difficult task as the Sudanese have not enjoyed enough stability to cultivate for over 20 years. Second, is a home for orphans (one building has walls and roof, not finished). The third is an elementary school—which was my primary interest, and my reason for coming. It is nothing but a roof so far, but it is well-attended by over 120 kids in grade 1-4. Obviously, in a country without infrastructure, education is only recently available, so there are very few children in the upper grades. On the day we counted we found 80 in 1st grade, 26 in 2nd, 12 in 3rd, and 5 in 4th. There are 100 more students enrolled but not present, as they are off caring for the cattle. The students sit in the dirt under the roof of their wall-less school learning numbers, letters, and reading off of the blackboard.In these conditions I was amazed by the dedication of the teachers—4 high school graduates who all completed their studies in refugee camps outside of Sudan. I spent time talking with them, providing some teacher training, and also teaching in the school. The thermometer read over 120 F when I completed teaching a lesson on factors to 4th grade by dividing piles of rocks in the sand. I was amazed by their desire for education.
I visited 2 other schools during my time in Sudan, and found the conditions the same: unfinished, unfurnished schools, packed to capacity. One school had 70 1st graders in a classroom, and another 70 outside under a tree. The day before I left I was able to go into Bor town with Kiptoo, a Kenyan nurse (Jen’s supervisor at the clinic) where we bought 10 boards—the first furniture for this school.
I could go on and on about Sudan. Maybe if I ever get around to updating my blog I’ll tell about the 2 snakes we killed, the quart of fresh-from-the-cow unpasteurized milk I drank, of swimming with the herds boys in a water hole full of dung and littered with animal carcasses, or of visiting a man in the hospital with an AK-47 bullet wound to the head.
But Sudan was not about adventure, it was about people. I had great hope when I saw my 4th graders performing well on their math using gravel. I felt hopeless in the Bor hospital looking at toddlers whose arms were thinner than 2 of my fingers, whose legs were thinner than 3 of my fingers, but whose eyes were as big as my own daughter’s. I loved the life and energy of the machine-gun-toting men who wanted me to photograph them with their weapons and their tall, long-horned cattle, but I was sad to know that their guns also testify that peace has not come to Sudan as the Darfur genocide rages.
Sudan was incredibly different, yet when I worshiped in a packed church in a foreign language I felt right at home.
It has made me think about some things differently: What’s more valuable: a MIG 23 fighter jet or a 4th grade education? So as ELI explores its goals in Sudan, please pray for God’s wisdom. Please also pray (or act) about the bloodshed that goes on in Darfur.
I will quit there. Thanks again for your prayers. Jen and the girls did fine while I was gone too.
God Bless,
Davis
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
AIDS campaign - Thanks for praying!
Thanks so much for your prayers for last Friday's AIDS campaign! We had a wonderful campaign full of many successes including the following:
Allison and the entire Tumaini na Afya Team
- No rain! Lots of sunshine (with no trees to hide under resulting in red faces, necks, and arms for us two white people--Juli and I)!
- Tons of people--between 6,000 - 7,000
- Lots of entertainment from many different groups ranging from school children to grandmothers, all singing songs about HIV/AIDS
- Exciting games including two bicycle races and a challenging football (soccer match) which ended in penalty kicks
- Collaboration among several organizations working in the area including: ELI, AMPATH, Ministry of Health, Deliverance Church, and the host organization, Agriculture Development Corporation
- Important messages of hope passed to the crowd from HIV+ individuals, government officials, chiefs, senator of the area, and all organizations involved in the day
- Testing, testing, testing!!! We had 20 VCT counselors set up in 3 tents who worked very hard all day long in the hot sun. At the end of the day, 748 individuals faced their fears and took courage to be tested and know their HIV status--419 men, 262 women, and 67 unknown (meaning we did not get the exact data of the 67 individuals). 3.5% of those tested were found to be HIV+ and were referred to the nearest AMPATH clinic for further counseling and treatment
- We have already started planning for our next big campaign, which will be held on Friday, April 20 in the village on Natwana. Thanks for joining us in the fight against HIV/AIDS...replacing fear with hope!
Allison and the entire Tumaini na Afya Team
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Empowered Lives: Paul Sigilai
Paul Sigilai was born in 1961 into a polygamist family. Sigilai’s dad rarely had time for the children. While in elementary school, Paul lived with his mother. However, by the time he went to high school in 1978, he moved in with his father and an angry stepmother.
Paul was seeking encouragement and companionship, and he found it in a group of friends. Sadly, these friends also introduced him to cigarettes and alcohol. By the time he completed high school in 1980, Paul was an alcoholic. He got a job as a technician with Kenya Telecommunication Company and stayed with this company for 10 years. But the stress of his alcohol addiction made it unbearable for him to continue his job. He chose to retire.
Barely thirty years old, Sigilai started squandering his retirement money, mostly on alcohol. In 2003, his wife kicked him out. A year later, he returned to her, promising to change. The change was always short-lived. Paul couldn’t stay sober for more than 2 months until he’d succumb to alcohol once again. After his son prayed for him and begged his father to quit drinking, Sigilai was able to stay sober for 6 months. But once again, he was overcome by his addiction.
Paul hit rock bottom, and wanted to take his life. God brought a friend named Samson across Paul’s path. Samson had just recently graduated from ELI’s Drug and Alcohol Rehab Program, and he convinced his friend that he would find the tools to do the same if he’d check into rehab.
If you’d ask Sigilai what’s different this time around, he’d tell you that he’s no longer trying to win the battle on his own. God is by his side. Sigilai quotes John 14:6 as his life verse. Since he know knows Jesus, he has faith that Jesus will continue to lead him in truth and in life. And that includes a day-to-day victory over his alcohol addiction.
Paul is looking forward to seeing his son over Easter break so they can celebrate together how God had answered the boy’s prayers.
Paul was seeking encouragement and companionship, and he found it in a group of friends. Sadly, these friends also introduced him to cigarettes and alcohol. By the time he completed high school in 1980, Paul was an alcoholic. He got a job as a technician with Kenya Telecommunication Company and stayed with this company for 10 years. But the stress of his alcohol addiction made it unbearable for him to continue his job. He chose to retire.
Barely thirty years old, Sigilai started squandering his retirement money, mostly on alcohol. In 2003, his wife kicked him out. A year later, he returned to her, promising to change. The change was always short-lived. Paul couldn’t stay sober for more than 2 months until he’d succumb to alcohol once again. After his son prayed for him and begged his father to quit drinking, Sigilai was able to stay sober for 6 months. But once again, he was overcome by his addiction.
Paul hit rock bottom, and wanted to take his life. God brought a friend named Samson across Paul’s path. Samson had just recently graduated from ELI’s Drug and Alcohol Rehab Program, and he convinced his friend that he would find the tools to do the same if he’d check into rehab.
If you’d ask Sigilai what’s different this time around, he’d tell you that he’s no longer trying to win the battle on his own. God is by his side. Sigilai quotes John 14:6 as his life verse. Since he know knows Jesus, he has faith that Jesus will continue to lead him in truth and in life. And that includes a day-to-day victory over his alcohol addiction.
Paul is looking forward to seeing his son over Easter break so they can celebrate together how God had answered the boy’s prayers.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Please join us for the AIDS campaign
I know you cannot physically be present at this week's HIV/AIDS awareness campaign. However, through your prayers, you can join in what God's going to be doing in people's lives.
Here's what Allison shared from Kipkaren, Kenya:
This week, we've been extremely busy preparing for a large HIV/AIDS campaign that will be held in Kitale on Friday. This campaign is a bit different than our others as we have partnered with a big company in Kenya called the Agriculture Development Corporation (ADC). The Managing Director of ADC, Kirwa, is our neighbor in Kipkaren (though he resides in Nairobi). When Kirwa heard about what we were doing in the area of AIDS Awareness, he wanted his company to be a part of it. In the area where we are conducting this campaign, ADC has 12 large farms with over 10,000 employees. This is an exciting opportunity for our team to venture into a different sector of society--the working world.
We are expecting about 5,000 people to attend and are preparing to test 1,000 people for HIV. As always, there will be bicycle races for men and women and a football (soccer) game as well as our favorite band from Nairobi, "Kijiji," to draw and entertain the crowd for the day. Please keep our team in your prayers on that day.
We will be traveling in a caravan of four vehicles at 5am Friday morning as the place is about a two hour drive from Kipkaren. Please also pray for safety on the roads. We are expecting great things and give you an update next week of how things went!
Here's what Allison shared from Kipkaren, Kenya:
This week, we've been extremely busy preparing for a large HIV/AIDS campaign that will be held in Kitale on Friday. This campaign is a bit different than our others as we have partnered with a big company in Kenya called the Agriculture Development Corporation (ADC). The Managing Director of ADC, Kirwa, is our neighbor in Kipkaren (though he resides in Nairobi). When Kirwa heard about what we were doing in the area of AIDS Awareness, he wanted his company to be a part of it. In the area where we are conducting this campaign, ADC has 12 large farms with over 10,000 employees. This is an exciting opportunity for our team to venture into a different sector of society--the working world.
We are expecting about 5,000 people to attend and are preparing to test 1,000 people for HIV. As always, there will be bicycle races for men and women and a football (soccer) game as well as our favorite band from Nairobi, "Kijiji," to draw and entertain the crowd for the day. Please keep our team in your prayers on that day.
We will be traveling in a caravan of four vehicles at 5am Friday morning as the place is about a two hour drive from Kipkaren. Please also pray for safety on the roads. We are expecting great things and give you an update next week of how things went!
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Work hard. Play hard.
Last Saturday, the Kipkaren staff held the first-ever ELI Kipkaren Cup at the Brook of Faith field. (That's ELI's new elementary school in Kipkaren.) Training Center staff challenged Brook of Faith/Children's Home staff to a football (soccer) match.
The Training Center staff kicked dust in the eyes of the Children's Home and School staff, beating them with 3 goals to 1.
Says Allison, "It was such a fun afternoon though we noticed the next day the wazee (old people) were limping. They are obviously not as young as they used to be. Thanks goes to Arap Rop for organizing this match. There will be more in the future."
The Training Center staff kicked dust in the eyes of the Children's Home and School staff, beating them with 3 goals to 1.
Says Allison, "It was such a fun afternoon though we noticed the next day the wazee (old people) were limping. They are obviously not as young as they used to be. Thanks goes to Arap Rop for organizing this match. There will be more in the future."
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Photos from Kenya
Photographer couple Michael and Emi Heddens recently visited Kenya. They posted some of the photos of their trip on their blog.They write of their time in Kenya, "This doesn’t even begin to do justice to the things we saw and the people we met while in Africa this past month, but we’ve had so many people ask, we thought we’d give a sneak peek into out trip."
Be sure to check it out!
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