Tuesday, August 21, 2007

A Small House with Many Rooms


Sheets of corrugated tin shield the sun’s gaze and soften the din of a thousand feet shuffling nearby. The tin is rusted through in places and juts into the red clay like shards of glass. Hedged together and held upright by a series of nails and punctured soda caps, it forms one of the walls that are home to most of Nairobi’s population.

Nairobi slums have some of the smallest houses in the world. Most measure less than 8 by 10 feet and could compete with an average parking space. Inside lives a nuclear family of four, an uncle and his brother’s children, or a grandmother caring for five orphans. With dirt or concrete floors and no windows or water, life here is tough. And space is tight.

Amber, Anne, and I are privileged to represent The Falls Church in Kenya and have had the joy of being invited into many homes in the slums. Once inside we are treated to tea or a traditional meal and offered a tour of the sitting room, bedroom, dining room, kitchen, and office. They’re all the same – the shared space of many rooms.

It’s an amazing contrast to our castles in Northern Virginia. Growing up in Falls Church, it was possible to share a home with everyone in a different room, rarely gathered and seldom seen. Closeness can be uncomfortable.

In Kenya, poverty forces most of the intimate living arrangements, but the culture also values closeness. Babies are cuddled constantly against their mother’s back, streets are packed with activity, and public vans burst with passengers. When I tell friends that I live alone, they can’t understand how anyone could do that. “It must be so boring.” Recently, two friends from Kawangware’s Gatina slum joined me for an overnight retreat. We stayed in what would be considered a normal middle class home in the U.S. After discussing sleeping arrangements, we all decided to stay together with sleeping bags and blankets in the smallest room. The rest of the house was just “too big.”

Being on the other side of the globe from home, I often wonder about this big world we live in and my space in it. Where is my space and what is it filled with? For now that space seems to be the urban slums of Nairobi, where there are many challenges as well as chances to grow. I thank God for lessons learned from faith-filled slum dwellers. Houses are small, but hearts are often too large for words. Inside there is room.

Open wide your hearts also. . . In my Father’s house there are many rooms.

Kenya Kids






Kids from Kenya say "hello." Here are some of the children who live near Light and Power and attend our Saturday Outreach Program.

A Day in Jail

Recently I spent a day in jail. On July 28th I awoke early in the morning and traveled by matatu to prison on Nairobi's industrial east side. As I alighted from the vehicle, my escort pushed us past a series of Kenyan soldiers and inside the compound. It was dusty and hot, and as we dodged chickens and goats along the path we approached two main prisons: one for petty thieves with short-term sentences, and the other for violent and hardened criminals. Fortunately, we were headed for the small jail (or "jaila ndogo"). I was there to visit my girlfriend. . .and her family.

Lucy has been in jail most of her life. In fact, she grew up in a prison where her dad has worked as a chaplain for the last three decades. In Kenya, all prison wardens, guards, and employees live in government housing on site. The compound I visited was home to an estimated 2000 families, and was complete with a nursery school, hospital, two churches, and a host of small businesses. It was village in and of itself and had a strong sense of community and an unexpected serenity. Children were playing outdoors. Cobblers and barbers and vendors were busy with their trades, and small groups of women were chatting and hanging laundry. In the midst of it all, prisoners marched around in black and white striped jumpsuits.

The Beaten Boy

There is something about a young boy being beaten to death. Something that doesn't sit right. He was around 13 years old, with tattered clothes, and covered in dirt and sweat. His shoes had fallen apart and were half way off his feet. Without family, without a home, without food, and without hope, he had been living on the streets. He was on the streets for some time, probably sniffing glue, begging, and occasionally stealing to survive. Now he had been caught in the act. As the crowd yelled "thief" this time justice wouldn’t let him go. What struck me most was that the boy offered no resistance. He didn't try to fight back or run away. He just received each blow as men continued to strike him. He absorbed punches in his head and strong kicks to his body. His small bones bent awkwardly and snapped beneath the force. Yet he never screamed or tried to resist. This young boy who had been beaten by life didn’t feel like he had a right to anything else. He had been abandoned by his parents, cast out by his family, and rejected by society. He probably knew little of love. There are thousands like him in Nairobi. As he fell hard to the pavement of Tom Mboya Avenue, I pushed my way through the crowd and walked quickly away. . .Somehow he reminded me of Jesus. Since then I haven’t been able to look at a street boy the same way.

Street Justice

Since I've been in Nairobi, I've seen two lynchings. Both of them occurred on busy streets in broad daylight in the middle of the city. In each case, I was on my way to catch a bus when I saw two or three people begin to surround and beat a suspected criminal. In the first instance, a young street boy was pushed into the middle of the road, stopping traffic on a major thoroughfare as men took turns hitting him. Crowds soon gathered and others joined in the melee as onlookers cheered each act of street justice.

In many poor communities in Kenya, theft is a capital offense. In the slums, it is not uncommon for thieves caught in the act to be publicly beaten to death or set on fire. These communities take theft very seriously; mainly because poverty is already so overwhelming. Stealing an aluminum pot or a charcoal stove could ruin an entire family’s livelihood and put them on the streets. As a result, poor and hardworking families are often frustrated by crime and with the corruption, injustice, and inefficiencies that have long been associated with the Kenyan judicial system. So sometimes victims of crime take matters into their own hands.

The government and police forces officially discourage such acts and are struggling to improve the system. For the most part though, it seems Kenyans support street justice. Sometimes it's the only means to protect communities and restore social harmony. For me, watching a boy beaten as large crowds cheered was a sickening and sad experience. Unfortunately the scene repeated itself on a different street two days later. . .

On Top of Nairobi



For 200 shillings a piece and a little patience, my friend Edwin and I ventured to the top of one of Nairobi’s tallest buildings, Kenyatta International Conference Center.

Faithful Gardener

Richard ran out with a stick and threatened to fight the would-be thief. This plant snatcher had crawled across dense grass and pushed his hand through our broken fence. A crooked middle-aged man, he desperately wanted to steal our plants.

Light and Power Centre has a new garden. The lush plants are a refuge amidst the mud-filled squalor and rubbish of Kawangware slum. The garden is still small, but it really does stand out as something different. People regularly pass by and remark how nice it looks. The guys at Light and Power planted the garden with the help of our professional landscaper, Michelle Flores. Michelle volunteered at Light and Power for several months while she was in Nairobi. She got to know those at the centre, encouraged and shared with them, and then worked with them to build the garden. . . We are hoping to put in a real fence soon, a place for kids to play, and maybe even a small kiosk. If you’re interested in helping us, let me know at kenyaconnection@gmail.com.

Three Daves

Dave Comeau (henceforth nicknamed "Galacho") and Dave Thorton (AKA "Goliath") joined me in June at my flat on East Church Road. Galacho and Goliath had just finished their first year at Christopher Newport University and decided they wanted to spend part of their summer serving the poor in the slums of Nairobi. Galacho and Goliath both taught at Akiba School and also amazed the youth at Light and Power with their guitar and bongo playing skills. The Daves not only entertained, but also encouraged. They were a huge help to us in our ministry and are definitely missed.

The Man who Ate a Tree


I was house-sitting in a mansion on the road to Kiambu, when I met a security guard who likes to eat trees. “I can eat a tree each day”, Patric told me. I listened in disbelief while he shared of his eating exploits, but I soon found his words to be true. In fact, Patric once planted an entire forest and proceeded to eat the whole thing. “An eight-foot trunk makes for a good lunch”, he would often say. Patric’s favorite food of course was the sweet stump of the sugarcane plant. Sometimes he would go for several days and eat nothing but sugarcane. “It gives me energy to stay awake and guard the compound at night.”

The Amalfi Coast


I spent a joyful two weeks in May visiting with family and traveling along the Amalfi Coast. I met up with my brother, sister, nephew, mom, and aunt in Naples. It was a great vacation. We feasted on pizzas and pastas and traveled throughout Minori, Maiori, Positano, Ravello, and Capri. During that time I hiked through groves of lemon trees and went swimming in the Mediterranean almost every day.



Watch a video of our Italy trip:



Building Bridges in a Swamp

There is a swamp that skirts the edge of Gatina Village. It fills with rain and refuse, and pushes out from the slums to the lowlands of Lavington Estates. The swamp breaks the monotony of red clay and tin huts and hides the ignoble waste of man and beast. It also floods during the heavy rains, swallowing homes and covering the road that runs south from Light and Power Centre.

In recent weeks, workers have hauled dirt and struggled to raise the road and ward off the surging waters. Their labor seems vain. The rainy season now washes most of the soil into a pond, pushing the waves ever higher.

Sometimes ministry in Gatina feels like building bridges in a swamp. There is no firm footing and progress is quickly washed away. Since our first newsletter we've experienced immense difficulties and challenges in Gatina. We've seen strikes, embezzlement, theft, and threats; deception, division, and even death. There are so many obstacles I often wonder whether we’re in the right place. Can we really build bridges in a swamp? God, do you really want us to work in Gatina?

Many in the village have resigned themselves to the harsh realities of slum life. A palpable apathy pervades the slum - the strong reluctance to change or work to improve one’s conditions. "What I work for is stolen, what I build is broken, the ones I love are constantly taken away. So why should I work, or build, or love?" Trust is a hard thing here, and hope is uncommon. This is life in the swamp. Amidst the challenges we are strengthened by your prayers, and thank God that "we who have fled to take hold of the hope offered to us may be greatly encouraged" (Heb. 6:18).

Welcome to Nairobi (Archive)

There are no perfect beginnings. But we had to start somewhere. In many ways our beginning has been unexpected, filled with challenges as well as happy surprises. Our team landed in Nairobi a little over a month ago. We came as representatives from The Falls Church, with giant duffel bags and hand sanitizer and a desire to serve. We believed God was calling us to leave our homes to serve him. The church supported us, encouraged us, and sent us with a mission to listen, learn, and build relationships in Kenya. It was overwhelming and hard, but we said our goodbyes, collected our bags, and left.

In the past month, there have been miscommunications and confusions, housing headaches and computer crashes, power outages and water shortages, and even sicknesses and robberies. But we're here, and we're learning and making new friends.

We've been blessed by the warm hospitality of our friends in Kenya. We've spent time at Akiba School, Light and Power Center, Beacon of Hope, TULIP, and the Kibera Card Center. We've also been finding our way around Nairobi. In the process, there have been half-marathons, charging rhinos, graduation ceremonies and basketball tournaments, chapati pizzas and frosted donuts, exploding art supplies, matatu escapades, national exams, and executive board room meetings and quiet conversations in the slum. Amidst it all I know that God has begun something new. This is a new world, strange and often troubling but deeply beautiful. . . Welcome to Nairobi.