I board the plane to Nairobi with no jewelry, no make-up, no cell phone, no denim--the American definition of naked. And uncomfortable. The next day, my definition of "uncomfortable" is put to shame and changed for the rest of my life...
A distinctive odor emanates through the streets of Nairobi: a mix of smoldering charcoal, refuse, and when the van is speeding fast enough, jungle. The exhaust fumes are thick enough to taste, and particulates sting our eyes. Soweto Slum, one of many slums in the heart of Nairobi and our first day's destination, reeks of trash and urine, but the smiles we encounter at Bright Hope Primary School shine through the stench. As we cram into a bare, hot classroom, we look out on a mass of tattered green uniforms. The children greet us with songs and poems they've been preparing for weeks. I'm not sure which group was more anxious for our arrival--us or them?
Watch this quick video of one of their songs...
I teach a small group of children "Jesus Loves Me." They still don't know the tune thanks to their tone deaf teacher, but they do know the words, the actions, and the significance.
I love these children. Their smiles and songs warm my heart. Their resiliency humbles me. Their hope inspires me.
After a traditional Kenyan lunch, Brian and I venture into the slum's allies with two students and a teacher to translate. The children lead us through the filthy streets, lined by open sewers, and a maze of 10'x10' homes, constructed mostly of plywood and corrugated metal. Running water and electricity are scarce here. We continue tiptoeing behind our students into the deepest corners of the slum, to their homes. A floral sheet serves as the front door, and as we slip inside the dim room, we see that another sheet serves as the partition between the living room/bedroom/dining room/sitting area and the kitchen. In return for their hospitality, the family receives a loaf of bread, maize flour, prayer, and The Book of John. Funny thing is, they already have Bibles, bookmarked and dogeared like an overused planner.
Walking through Soweto is eye-opening. No make up or jewelry? That's not uncomfortable. Not having a toilet or a bed or a change of clothes or clean drinking water? Now, that is uncomfortable. Yet, the people we meet, although they face more hardships than you or I could bear, are friendly and appreciate a simple prayer or smile from a stranger. Even in the most destitute parts of the world, God is present.
Beautifully said, as usual. I'm so proud of you for doing something so out of your comfort zone... well, everyone's comfort zone!
I have heard it over and over--the fact that people in squalor smile with gratitude more than we who have so much do. We have a lot to learn from the humble. I find myself envious of people with more stuff than me, and yet these people who have next to nothing welcome 'rich people' like you and I without so much as an inkling of envy or jealousy. That, to me, is being rich.