Nicole's Journey v4: "I Am a Mountain"

Before I arrived here, I sat in my office at a staff meeting and created my laundry list of things to work on while I was in Kenya. Basically it was a list of concepts, ideas of things we wanted to achive and information we wanted to find out. Quite frankly, I wasn't really sure how I was going to go about tackling this to do list, once I got to Kenya. To be honest, I had absolutley no clue. All I knew was that I needed to pack my bags, kiss my lovelies goodbye, get on that plane, and fly around to the other side to see what awaited.

What awaited me was a journey. One you can't really prepare for, because all you'll end up doing is getting in your own way. I did that on my first day here. Not being in control, or knowing exactly where to go and who to talk to, shook my confidence a bit. But soon I settled in to the journey, quieted my inner voice of control, and opened myself up to whatever came my way. And just listened. This was key. Listen. God has a plan here at work, and if you stay out of His way, beautiful things will happen. When I try and go left, He makes me go right. When I think I know where I'm going, He gets me lost so He can show me something. When I'm stuck in traffic in a stinky, hot, matatu, He plays a commercial on the radio containing a piece of the puzzle I need.

Keyans have a beautiful pace of life. "Pole, pole", they say. Take it easy, take it slow. That's hard to acclimate to as an American who is usually firing on all cylinders, and who's brain never seems to shut off. It makes me wonder what I've been missing, not listening because I am so noisy...

Jen said, "Seeing Creative Women of the World Kenya edition, new markets for the Mwangatu Women, creation of jobs, and potential income generating activities (IGAs) for the Simba Scholars beginning to unfold... Exciting things are happening around every corner... all we gotta do is keep our eyes peeled everywhere we go and opportunities seem to come knocking at our door!" It's so true. I feel like these last few weeks we have seen so much set into motion. So much potential. We've been planting a lot of seeds, and making a lot of wonderful connections and friendships. I cannot wait to see what starts to grow!
I have enjoyed so many aspects of my time here. I have loved working with our artisan women. If I could say this more eloquently, I would. But for me, having only worked with these women from half a world a way, my time here helped me to establish relationships with them that, I believe, is the key to making our work with them super successful. They trust us. They start to believe in themselves. They start to become empowered. And that's essentially what I'm working toward, right? Today, as we parted ways, one of the women, Grace, said to me, "Thank you so much for the work you are doing with us. It makes us very happy and excited." I can't tell you how much that compliment meant to me. "I love you, sister", says another as we say goodbye. I'm not sure I could have explained my gratitude to them for helping me put my confidence back together after I unravelled it on the first day.

I deeply loved getting to spend time with the kids. This did my heart and soul so much good. These are children that live in extreme poverty, have been hurt, have been abandoned, and been all but forgotten. And yet, they are so full of joy, and resilience. And they will love on you so much, that it spills over. I'm not sure I could have explained my gratitude to those little hearts that touched mine... (especially sweet Caroline, little Faith, beautiful Grace, and lovely Mercy).

I cherish the friendships I've made here. Njeri (our house mama), Francis (the most well connected person in Nairobi), Lydia (one of the most lovely women I've ever met), plus the many other people who played a pivotal role in my work here. I'm not sure I could have explained my gratitude to them for making this such a kind a comfortable place to call home for a moment.

And I have enjoyed, beyond words, the time I have gotten to spend with our International Advocate, and my friend, Jen Foster. We came to be friends in a roundabout way. A journey, all its own, that brought us here. We both agree that separate we are good, but together we are great! I'm not sure I could explain my gratitude for your guidance, and friendship during the past few weeks. You've impressed the pants off me, with your fast talking Swahili, and made me laugh till i thought my face would fall off. Mango Juice forever, my sister!

They say God can move mountains. Well, I must be a mountain, because I have been moved. Whatever I have given you, Kenya, you have given me so much more. I take with me joy (despite circumstance), pride, laughter, spirit, hard work, and kindness. And with you I leave a piece of my heart.
Nakupenda Kenya!
Nicole

Nicole's Journey v3: "God Loved Her More"

The days go pretty quickly here, in Nairobi. Each day we've had a meeting, or a goal to source something, or a mission to go look at someplace. God is definitely walking with us. I can't understand why I get lost constantly, just to come to understand that its because God had a different direction for me to head in. Something He needed me to see. Someone He wanted me to meet. So I change my path, and I listen for directions. But mostly I stand in awe.

I am in Nairobi working along Jen Foster, our International Advocate. In addition to working with CWoW, she works with Kenya Simba Scholars (KSS), an organization that helps you sponsor the education of a child here. Many of the kids have been abandoned and other come from extremely poor families who can't afford education. The website is www.kenyasimbascholars.org and I encourage you to check it out. These kids are amazing and love going to school and love their peers and teachers. They are resilient, and joyful, and playful, and smart.

On the day I arrived in Nairobi Jen got news that one of the Simba Scholars had passed away. She had been in and out of the hospital the past month, with what they thought to be rheumatic fever. Her name was Joan and she was 12 years old. The school director, Dorothy, told me that she was a very bright student and one of the student leaders. Jen said she was really talented in drama and singing. I was deeply saddened by the news, especially hearing the backstory of her family situation and abandonment. Lydia, the KSS coordinator, and a very lovely Kenyan woman, told me that the children at the school we all very upset and sad over the news of Joan's passing. "We loved her very much", Lydia said, "but God loved her more."  Hearing that put some peace upon my heart.


Our original plan today (Friday) was to visit the Ngong Hope School and Children's Home where Joan had been, but we soon got word that her funeral would be held today instead and there would be no school. Jen and I consulted Njeri, our house mama, on appropriate attire to wear to a funeral here. We met up with Lydia at the corner bus stop to head out to Ngong slum to find the location of the funeral and burial service. Ngong is big, and busy, and a chaotic hot mess of life and commerce. As Lydia, Jen and I walked the main road thru the slum, Lydia would occasionally stop and ask people the way to the burial site, since we weren't quite sure where it was we were going. A ways down the road we arrived at a large field that looked more like a landfill than a grave yard. There was lots of trash, and cows grazing, and thin, stray dogs digging around. I noticed piles of dirt and stones with crosses placed in them, located randomly throughout the field. My heart sunk to think this child would be laid to rest here. This is not something I know.
As we waited along the road, others started to show up. Lydia greeted a woman and her five daughters. She was one of the parents of the school children and two of her girls were Simba Scholars. She was lovely and kind, and introduced herself as Esther. She introduced her girls, Mary (12), Mercy (11), Grace (9), Faith (6), and baby Joy (1). The girls were sweet as pie, and although shy of us mzungus (white people) at first, warmed up quickly. Faith snatched onto my hand and played with my skin and we visited and took photos with each other.
Soon the school children arrived, and we all took our place in the field around a table that had been carried in. A car pulled up with a small wooden casket on top. This was the second moment it got hard for me. The air was somber as adults wailed and kids sat quietly in the grass. I stood with Jen, Lydia, and Dorothy, the school director. Grace, Mercy, and Faith surrounded close around me.
The first thing that took place was a tradition of taking photos with the casket. Groups were called up one by one. First the family members...then the teachers...Joan's nurses from the hospital...church members...visiting guests... At this I felt a nudge at my back as Lydia ushered Jen and I toward the casket. My head was spinning with was going on. Do I pose? Do I smile? Do I look at the casket or the camera? Do I take my sunglasses off? Should I cover my shoulders? What on earth am I doing here? This is not something I know. After our photo, other groups continued to be called up. Esther and her girls took their places at the casket for their photo. When they returned to where we were standing, Mercy buried her head in my side and began to sob. This was the hardest thing for me by far. My heart was breaking for this child grieving for her friend. I handed her my tissue, wiped away her tears, and held on to her tight. The pastor proceeded to give a very long and impassioned sermon in both Swahili and English about how we are all temporarily here on this earth. It made me think of one of my favorite quotes, "What is it you plan to do with your one wild, and precious life?". Wild and precious indeed.

After an hour or so, they carried the small casket to a hole that had been dug into the rocky earth. They placed the box down the hole and many people took handfuls of dirt to toss upon it as they started burying the girl. Many of the school children started to weep. Burying a child, this is not something I know. But grief and sorrow is universal, and saying goodbye to someone you love, before you are ready to...that I know. So I stood there, the hot African sun beating down, with a heavy heart, holding Grace and Mercy tightly to my side.

After Joan was laid to rest, we all headed back to the school. I walked along the road with Esther and her girls. I told her that she had a beautiful family and her sweet girls had captured my heart. I learned that she was the same age as me, and grew up an only child. She always knew she wanted a big family because she didn't like being the only one. She invited me to come to her home sometime and I told her, that I would love to, and maybe we could get together the next time I came to Nairobi.

Back at the school we sat in the shade with Lydia, and Esther and her girls. Grace and Mercy told me about their classes. I showed them pictures of my family on my phone. We captured the attention of several of the kids when we started watching a video I had of my three year old niece singing "Jesus Loves Me". We watched the video over and over. Mercy sat by my side and played with my hair. She picked up quickly how to take pictures on my phone and enjoyed herself doing that. The kids laughter started echoing around the schoolyard. Kids are so resilient and it filled my heart with joy to be around them, after such an emotional day.

Before I left, I told Grace, Mercy, and Faith to continue to do well in school and how much I enjoyed being with them today, even though it was a sad day. "I know you loved your friend." I said. "But God loved her more. And I believe, someday, you will see her again."

Nicole's Journey v2: It's a Dance

"It's a dance," Jen says to me as we leave the N.V.S. offices this afternoon.

Earlier that morning we had left our apartment to walk to the matatu [bus] stop. The woman we are staying with, Njeri has a modest apartment that butts right up to a slum. My window looks down upon the tin shacks and the hustle and bustle inside the cement walls. Our apartment is gated, and once outside we make our way down the ally that runs along the slum. We are the only white people around, as far as I can tell. We dodge some goats and chickens and make our way out to the main road, stoping briefly to talk to some sweet young little girl who has run up and grabbed our hands. Jen says something to her in Swahili and we continue on.

We had spent all afternoon meeting with her friend, Joe, who runs an organization placing volunteers who come to Kenya in work projects and places to stay. We sat in an office with Joe and discussed the work Jen was doing with the Simba Scholars Program as well as the Mwangatu artisan women that I do work with. We talked about road blocks we were running into, and discussing ideas to help these programs become sustainable. Somewhere between the chicken farm idea, and how to get a space at the local market place I got quiet. And a bit overwhelmed.

As we leave NVS, I try to explain to Jen how I've managed to crawl up in my head and untie every bundle of confidence I had stored there. "I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing here, Jen." I say as we walk. Jen asked me what I meant by that, so I try and explain myself better. I try to explain to her that as we are sitting at NVS with this Kenyan man, who is running this organization, and helping children get scholarships to school, I really began to wonder what the heck I was doing. What business does a seemingly privileged white girl from America think she's doing coming to Africa to do mission work. I start to question if what I'm doing is the very same thing that I don't like about many NGO's, giving handouts or committing a few weeks of my privileged life so I can go home and feel good about myself? I start to question my whiteness, and my Americanness, and I wonder is it helpful or a hindrance? I tell Jen that I just really want to be sure that what I am doing is really helpful to the people I am working with here, and not harmful in any way. But how can I know for sure? "You can't really know." says Jen. "Some of our intentions, as good as they may be, might cause a negative reaction, and some may be so impactful they are changing lives. It's all just a dance. And you pray, and you listen for God, and you head in the direction you are called. He will use you there." I thought about this over lunch, and made some peace with myself. I know my heart is in the right place. I know our approach is intentionally good, and it is not a handout. And maybe even my whiteness and Americanness are tools that I have been given to use.

We are here to help empower these women, and quite frankly that empowers us. Jen told me that one of the greatest benefits that come from the work that we do is that the children see their mothers working, and running a business, and becoming strong and empowered and self-sufficient and it has a very positive and strong impact on them. It made me think of the mission statement I had created for work a few months ago: "As a woman living in the 21st century I will live as though I have a thousand daughters, even though I have none, because every girl is my daughter and when she sees me, or engages with me, she is looking for how to live. So I will live, I will smile, I will laugh, I will speak, and I will pray as though her heart and soul depend on it." That brought about more peace as we finally made our way home that evening.

In the alley way back to our apartment, we ran into the same little girl from this morning. She grabbed on to my hand and walked with us for a moment. Several other kids were out at this point and they were all waving and saying "hello, how are you!" We smile at them and shout Jambo! as we make our way inside the gate. Upstairs in my room, I open the window that looks down upon the slum and I watch the people engage in their lives. Some are washing laundry, others are cooking or doing dishes. Several men are standing around talking. Kids and goats are running everywhere, kicking up dirt. The chatter and laugher drifts up through my window. Out in the common room Njeri is playing African music. It's nice and has a good beat. I'm enjoying it as I sit here to write. Njeri, asking us if we like the music, stops and looks at me for a moment and says to Jen, "Look, Nicole gets it! She is dancing."

Nicole's Journey: Game on...

"I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees.
I love that it takes you a half an hour to order a sandwich."

As the plane descends into Nairobi, I am wrapping up watching one of my all-time favorite movies, When Harry Met Sally.

"I love that little crease you get between your eyes when you're looking at me like I'm nuts.
I love that you're the last person I want to talk to at the end of the day."

The entirety of The Princess Bride aside, WHMS has one of the best dialogs of any movie. Ever. But I have to keep rewinding my favorite part because the captain keeps interrupting me with something in german.

"I love that when you figure out who it is that you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start right now."

The plane rides to Kenya were pretty uneventful. The first leg, to Switzerland, was 8 hours. Good movies. Good food. Row to myself. No small kids anywhere around me. The second leg, to Nairobi, was fine too. 7 hours. No small children. Good movies. Good food. Nice Somali lady who was kind to me as my body decided it was a great time to throw up my good food.

I spent the rest of the trip visiting with the nice Somali lady. She lives in Ottowa, has two younger brothers that play professional basketball in Europe, and this was her first time to Kenya. She was staying for a month. There was something very familiar about her that I liked...

Getting through the airport in Nairobi was fast and easy. Got my bag. Got my money exchanged. Went looking for someone named Francis who would be holding a sign with my name on it to take me to meet up with my friend Jen. NICOLE. I walked up to the tall guy with dreads and my name scribbled on cardboard and stuck my hand out and said, "Francis?" Francis, and his driver/friend Tony and I became fast friends. We chatted and learned about one another on the ride to where I would be staying. I can categorically say Francis may be the biggest flirt in Kenya. He texted Jen to let her know we were on our way and scolded her for not telling him I was so pretty. Then he proceeded to call me babycakes. Then I told him how old I was, and he stopped. ;-) We arrived at the place I will be staying while I'm here. I've gotten settled in, and am looking forward to starting my Kenyan adventure tomorrow. Game on.