Kenya Update ... kind of (by Don)

The flames would be reaching high into the air, and the intensity of the heat coming from the inferno would cause me to halt in my tracks.  Often my hands would be baking due to them being the foremost part of my body facing the flames.  I had to hold the nozzle out in front of me and control the branch like stiffness of the hose supplying the water to the nozzle in order to cool the radiant heat that challenged me.  The hose had the desire to snake out of my grasp and whip madly, back and forth, like the tail from so many dragons in movies we’ve all seen.  Then I would proceed, dropping to my knees to avoid the searing heat banking down on top of me.  With the water spraying forcefully out of the nozzle, I could advance, crawling and sometimes slithering on my belly to stay below the searing atmosphere above me.  Sometimes, I could see a few feet in front of me, and through the blackest smoke I would make my way towards the orange and red wall before me.  For the times I couldn’t see even an inch before me, I would just feel where the hottest part of the room was, and go towards that source of heat.  Often times, the ceiling would be falling down around me, so I would be hyper vigilant towards the space above me, listening for the tell tale signs of wood failing.  That sound signifies a likely death, to the one or more firefighters trapped beneath the timbers that come down and pin their victim to the ground, then the fire tackling and piling on.  I’ve heard that sound……..

"Here, the flames are hunger, the heat is disease, and the smoke is illness."

I’ve heard that sound here, too.  Except that the flames are hunger, the heat is disease, and the smoke is illness.  But I’m not the one facing the fire.  The ones holding on to the dragons’ tail are the people in the village.   They’re trying to beat back the inferno of poverty.  And like so many brave firefighters I’ve known, they too just put their heads down and move forward, because not to do that isn’t an option for them.  They wouldn’t consider turning their backs towards what could kill them; instead, they just carry on.  Because of that, I have such admiration for the people here.  I see them persevering through the day without food in their bellies, or in their homes.  They’ll work on an empty stomach to earn enough money to buy food for that day.  They’ll forage for leaves from trees and bushes to cook over their open fires.  They don’t have kitchens to prepare their meager portions either, their kitchen is three good sized rocks to rest the pan on. The pan is then heated from twigs and branches collected from the bush earlier that day.  All that was after they swept the dirt in front of their mud home with strands of arms length grass bundled together and tied with grass to make a sturdy broom; but not before the water was hand pumped from a well that may or may not be close by. 

"I admire them because they live with the acceptance that it ain’t gonna change much."

But its not just that I admire them because they have a physically hard life.  I admire them because they live with the acceptance that it ain’t gonna change much.  No matter what NGO program (non-governmental organization--or charity--the life blood of third world countries) is started for them, or what training course, or what food is handed out, eventually it all comes to an end.  They know it, and count themselves blessed for the moments it relieves some hunger pains, or disease, or some other deprivation.  And when its gone, they carry on.  People here don’t turn their backs on the flames of hunger.  They push through the smoke of illness, on their bellies at times, enduring the heat of disease, and sometimes they hear that awful sound of the roof  timbers breaking, collapsing on and pinning them, or someone they love.

"I love them."

I love them.  Just like I loved some of my firefighter buddies.  The thing that  makes me mad though, is the villagers didn’t agree to this.  They didn’t compete with others to get the best scores, or to perform the best during the physical endurance tests.  They didn’t train intensely, and get handed special clothing and equipment to make the job a little safer.  They didn’t sign on to be firefighters / poverty stricken.   And that’s why I admire them too.  They do the job in spite of it all.  They face down life’s infernos.  I like that.

"I was supposed to write about what I learned in Kenya..."

This is already way too long, and I was supposed to write about what I experienced and learned in Kenya during the one-month Organics 4 Orphans course (bio-intensive farming  organically and natural medicine).  But I can’t tell you what I learned until you know why I bothered to learn.  I learned because I love them, the villagers.  And I know for a fact that God has me here to bring his love to them, His kingdom coming here in Chikhwawa, Malawi, as it is in heaven.  We’re all here for this purpose.  I’ll be honest, this place is a crap (manure) sandwich in terms of physical comforts and fun things to do.  I actually hate being hot and sweaty all the time, dust blowing in my eyes, and relentlessly staring at poverty’s doorstep.  That said, however, it’s beautiful here, looking through my spiritual eyes of course.  Oh, and absolutely I’m not here because I want to make a difference or feel like I’m doing something worthwhile for these poor folks.  The truth is, I want God to make a difference here, and I want the villagers to know that God knows they’re doing something worthwhile already.

So the Kenya story will come later.  I’m sure you’re as tired reading this as I am writing.  So if you’ve read this far, know that God andI love you too!  Honest.