A Mothers Worst Nightmare

Karibu Centre has been very fortunate this past year to have all healthy babies born in our care. This week we got the devastating news that one of our pregnant girls had a nonviable baby one day away from her due date.

Delivery at the District Hospital isn’t like it is in the States. You are alone, and staff are few and unfriendly. After our mother was induced, she waited to deliver her stillborn baby in a room filled with women in labor. I stepped over a pool of blood on the floor that day as I hopped into bed with her for a visit. It was hard for me to listen to the sounds surrounding us in that room. I can’t imagine how our mother must have felt. After delivery, our mom wasn’t able to look or hold her child and too scared to ask for the option. She then spent the next two days sharing a twin bed and a room with at least 15 other women and their babies.

The mother mentioned wanting to see her child, so Anne went to the nursing staff to inquire where the baby was. After being harassed by the nurses and the worker of the morgue to see the baby, she found herself in line with a group of Kenyans and then finally with a worker within the morgue. The mortician then went to a plastic bag and nonchalantly told her to dig and look for the baby.

Maybe 20 babies lay in the bag wrapped in the lassos their mothers had planned to bring them home in. The babies lay labeled with the mother’s name, birth date, and the place of delivery on a piece of tape strapped to their torso. Anne and the worker started digging through the bodies and finally found him near the bottom of the bag. Although he was still covered in blood and lanugo from the birth, you could tell he was a miniature version of his mother.

Almost everyone prefers this mother forget any of this happened and to leave the baby at the hospital for disposal. She would have been pushed to do just that and likely discouraged from anything we consider normal grieving. Luckily, we were there from the beginning to discuss with her what she would like to do, which was to have a proper funeral for her baby.

We made arrangements for a service to be held the following Friday. Everyone put on their best white and black attire that morning and piled into the matatus to go to the burial site. Unorganized mounds of red dirt and white wooden crosses fill the cemetery area just off a main road that passes through Thika. The staff arrived in what I would consider abnormally cheerful spirits considering the event we were gathered for. I later had the thought that death is such a common occurrence here that people aren’t as affected by it. Life isn’t valued the way it is in the States.

We waited an hour for the priest to show up, and when he did, he wasn’t even the priest that was requested by our mother. Grave robbers lurked nearby waiting for us to leave so they could take everything they could resell later. As I was holding the sobbing mother in my arms and drowning out the Swahili service, I noticed another funeral taking place. A large group crowded around another child sized coffin while a woman sang the most beautiful church hymns in Swahili. It  made the day even more upsetting to me.

It was an important moment for the people of Karibu Centre. For them to know that we are there to support on one another in times of trouble and need. I’m thankful this mother had the chance to say goodbye to her sweet baby and that we were all there to support her through the process of it all. I’m happy to report that the mom is doing much better now. Thank you for all of your comments and prayers.

Babies Babies!

After months of work and patiently waiting, we finally received approval to open our Abandoned Infant Care Centre. After hearing from Ian how horrible the nursery is, and realizing that was one part of the medical I had yet to see, I requested to help our social workers get babies one day.

The second you walk into the nursery/NICU, you can’t help but notice how poor their facilities really are. Two staff nurses work to care for approximately 30 babies at one time. Small wired baskets line the walls of the room holding two babies each. Their NICU incubators hold three to five infants each. None of them are clothed, no care is provided when they cry, there are no diapers, and feces are everywhere. Above the bed is a hand written note dating when the last cleaning was and when the next will occur. 11 days pass between cleanings. Next to the incubators are wire baskets with our babies in them. Babies come to this place after being abandoned by their mothers. Some are there for days, others months, before they either die or an outside institution takes them in. The hospital lacks much needed money to properly care for these little ones so instead of formula, babies are fed water and occasionally glucose powder. They’ve hardly even been bathed or held. I witnessed a nurse literally throw a blanket at a baby in attempt to make him stop crying. It’s easy to believe the stories we’d heard of babies dying from starvation after being there. It’s even worse to know that babies were dying while we were waiting for our papers to be approved.

Me and one of our volunteers, Emma, with our babies

Kenyans are very particular about having babies covered from head to toe. This particular baby, whom I later named Noah, was swaddled in a blanket when the wind blew it off his face. Instead of crying, his eyes got big and he looked around with such amazement. This was the first time in his life of three months that he’d ever been outside or seen anything other than the ceiling of the nursery. Even though several people scolded me for not having the baby properly covered, there was no way I was going to cover his face again.

The staff have gone through an excruciatingly long, frustrating, and difficult struggle to get to where we are today. I am happy to report that we now have seven precious babies at the Centre that are thriving. They have improved so much already having been here such a short time. You can find pictures of our babies under Karibu Centre’s Facebook page.

A Slower Life

Now that my airline ticket’s been booked, plans are being finalized upon my arrival home, and the countdown has officially begun, I’ve become nostalgic. Although I’m very excited to move back to Portland, I know I will equally miss Kenya once I leave. I’m trying my hardest to focus on the here and now instead of the unknown future. But it’s hard.

I read something that spoke to me recently. Brennan Manning speaks of God’s gift of wonder.

“Life is staggering and we’re just used to it. It isn’t something that restores our perspective or delights us anymore. We’re like spoiled children no longer impressed with the gifts we’re given. It’s just another sunset, just another rainstorm, just another rainbow, just another child being born, just another funeral. We are too busy and preoccupied with ourselves, lead practical lives, and grow complacent, making us immune to the glory of creation. We refrigerate ourselves in summer and entomb ourselves in plastic in winter. We miss the experience of awe, reverence, and wonder. God intended for us to discover His loving presence in the world around us.”

This past year life has slowed down drastically. At first I hated the slowness. Over time I’ve come to appreciate it. It’s allowed me to experience wonder in my surroundings and grow closer to God in new ways.

Running, not on a treadmill in a gym, but outside on a trail as the sun sets and wind blows the grass around me.

I’m reminded of how truly small I am in the world when I look up at the star filled sky every night. I never knew how black the sky was, or how many stars there were.

When every color imaginable appears in the sky for sunsets.

Simply sitting on a patio with teenagers, for hours, laughing and talking about absolutely nothing.

Making babies laugh that were once in a hospital naked, hungry, and abandoned.

Falling asleep every night to the sound of frogs and crickets instead of cars passing.

Reading on a bench for hours with absolutely no agenda.

The slowness this past year has been a gift. It just took me a while to realize it. I don’t want to forget what it feels like here. To have life slow down so much that you can stop to take it all in. To listen to the stillness around me. I’m eager to remember the things I love about Kenya, and to forget the things I don’t.

Baby May

About 8 months into Anne’s pregnancy, there’s been a discussion of how her and Ian will get to the hospital to have the baby. Will they make it on time? How long will it take to get there? What if there’s traffic? Will they have to deliver the baby in the car? You can imagine all the what if’s when you live in rural Kenya at least an hour away from a hospital, on a good day.

We all took bets on the day, weight, height, hair and eye color, the whole bit. I, for some reason, was the only person that guessed Anne would go into labor early. In the end, Anne decided to be induced, but contractions came a day before it was scheduled. So, I stayed with Lucy, Eli, and our volunteer team as Ian and Anne took off for Nairobi.

You can read more about this crazy experience on the May’s blog www.mayfamily.wordpress.com. Although they made it to the hospital in time, Anne progressed with her contractions so quickly that the doctor didn’t make it. The nurse was on the phone with the doctor telling her to come as Ameena’s head started coming out. Ian had to literally hold Ameena’s head while the nurse put gloves on. And, there’s something about Ian almost passing out from all the commotion.

In the end Ameena Olivia May was born on May 7th weighing 2.9 kg and 50 cm long.

She’s precious. Sounds like a cat when she cries. Is incredibly expressive, even when she sleeps. And is so tiny I feel like I’m holding a doll sometimes. We’re keeping our fingers crossed that she’s the quiet one out of all the May kids.

Everyone has enjoyed her so much. This is the first mzungu baby the Kenyans have seen and they’re going crazy over her. They think her skin is too red and she’s cold because she isn’t covered in a hat, socks, mittens, sweater, AND blanket. I think they forget that it’s 80 degrees here daily. Anne’s been very patient and a good sport about it all though.

Eli’s daily quote. “Mom, she just keeps getting cuter and cuter every day.” Agreed.

Congratulations May family!

Handyman Team

I had the privilege of hosting three very loyal Orphans Overseas volunteers this past week. Ron, Michelle, and Frank – the BFF’s – have been with OO from the very beginning and have done all renovations at Karibu Centre. Even before it was Karibu Centre. This was their 8th trip back as a trio and were visiting for ten days to further improve the Centre by adding walkways and a new covered laundry area.

When I first met this team, I wasn’t sure what to think. When I started receiving all these e-mails months prior to their trip from a Ron Stull, I thought to myself, whoa this guy’s got a lot of energy. I would soon find out I was right! I want to know where they get it from. The staff kept saying, “These people are such hard workers. Even the old one (talking about Frank).” Their enthusiasm was exciting to see and we are grateful for all their hard work.

After many many trips into town to the local hardware store and with the help of local workers, we were able to finish two big projects in addition to the many electrical, plumbing, and miscellaneous fixes throughout the compound. I think I’ve made some good friends at Rush Hardware after this past week!

our soon to be pathway connecting the admin building to the community centre

these women worked hard on the pathways all week

the local quarry where stones are cut and people make gravel by hand...seriously

Frank and Ron hard at work on the laundry centre

our new laundry centre

Wedding Season

Three of my co-workers are getting married…in the next three weeks. How this happened, I have no idea. It’s not like Portland where everyone tries to get married during the three months it isn’t raining. It’s beautiful here everyday!

You should typically expect a Kenyan wedding to last all day but we were told this wedding would be different. The invitation said it started at 10:00 am so we left for the wedding at 11:00 am (we’re on Kenyan time after all). As we’re walking through a field we follow the sound of African music until we reach the two white tents where the wedding ceremony will take place. At 12:30 pm, we are still one of the few guests that have arrived. Lucy and Eli are now restless and Anne, at 9 months pregnant, has to pee. They decide to leave making me the only mzungu left at the wedding. Around 1:00 pm a matatu shows up and 20 or so people unload and join us. For some reason I thought this meant the wedding would start soon. Wrong!

At 2:00 pm, the wedding party finally shows up. Swahili music has been blaring for so long that I now have a headache. Esther looks beautiful in her wedding dress and a local choir sings as they march into the tented area. The pastor noticed that I was the only mzungu and kept repeating, “I’ve heard some of you do not speak Kiswahili. Please have your sister translate for you.” After hearing this the fourth time and everyone turning around to stare at me, I finally made eye contact and told him to continue on with the ceremony. Speeches, prayers, and long winded Kenyan pastor’s sermons took up the next hour.

even Eli thought the music was too loud

Then, the food was brought in. I had decided that I would leave at 4:00 no matter what was happening…so I had one hour to eat and experience whatever else they would do before my deadline. They served quite the spread – stew, goat, chapati, rice pilau (rice with seasoning and meat), mukimo (mashed potatoes with maize), and cake. No forks. No napkins. No drinks. I had a few bites of everything but then I made a deal with someone to swap my plate of food for their chapati. Well worth it!

ohhh the food

After food was pictures. Everyone seemed really excited about this part for some reason. I figured we’d all watch the family and bridal party take pictures but come to find out I was going to be in the pictures. The May’s and I told Esther we would attend her wedding under the one condition that we weren’t made the guest of honor (this happens at every event any mzungu attends). I guess pictures are the exception though. So I stood there in the middle of these two families that are joining, holding the husband and wife’s hand with mothers and fathers surrounding us to take pictures. It was odd to say the least. I felt as though I was interrupting something very important.

I love that I'm the only one smiling

Then, the most important part of the ceremony…when guests get their pictures taken. It’s like a picture you’d find in the paper of someone receiving a plaque. The guest holds half the present as it’s passed off and everyone stops just long enough in the process of it all to stop to look at the camera with their cheesy grin and take the picture. I now understand why it’s so important to Kenyans to give their gift in a big box.

So five hours after I arrived, I finally left the wedding as it continued on. The rest of the staff and girls that went didn’t make it back to the Centre until after 6:00 pm.

A Dream Getaway

A few months ago a friend mentioned this place called Zanzibar. I’m pretty sure my exact response was, Zanzibar? Where’s that? So I Googled it. The more I researched it, the more I wanted to go there myself. The history, architecture, culture, beaches, it all looked really awesome. So for the past few months I’ve been trying to find someone, anyone, to go there with me.

I had hoped all along that I could go over Easter weekend as Friday and Monday are holidays. A week before Easter when I had given up all hope of my dream vacation coming true, my best girlfriend Amanda randomly said, lets do it. So one Saturday night we sat at Art Café and planned our trip to Zanzibar.

We left early one morning for our 18 hour bus ride through Kenya and Tanzania to our destination for the next couple of days in Dar Es Saalam. Although long, uhem, really long, we had a good time. It was a great way to see the country of Tanzania, which by the way is beautiful. It’s very different than Kenya and I would argue much prettier. The landscape has rolling hills with loads of palm trees and lush vegetation, and Maasai wandering everywhere. To pass the time we had some girly deep conversations, ate junk food top of the hour every hour, and listened, sang, and danced to some tunes. When we finally arrived, we met up with some of Amanda’s friends that used to live in Kenya. The best thing about Dar was by far the food. They have a SUBWAY! I’ve never been happier to eat a 6″ BMT sub with chips, cookie, and coke!

at the Tanzania border

On the ferry finally heading to Zanzibar. We spent $5 to upgrade to VIP but we could never figure out what exactly we upgraded to. It seems everyone was VIP!

We took the ferry from Dar to the island of Zanzibar where we would spend the next four days on the East side of the island at Jimbiani beach. I felt like such an adult…on vacation with a girlfriend. The only other vacations I’ve been on have involved Mom and brother who I bickered with constantly.

We finally made it!

Days were spent taking walks on the beach, swimming, reading, kayaking, mountain biking through the local villages (this was tricky with broken brakes and flat tires), sailing in a dow, and snorkeling.

One thing that stands out about our trip is all the kids playing on the beach

We got into the habit of getting up early to watch the sun rise. There would be no one else around, water was like glass, and then you’d see the sun break through the clouds.

Glorious!

Our Easter sunrise service overlooking the water. It was a wonderful way to celebrate Christs' resurection!

A few days later we headed to the West side of the island to the capital of Stone Town. When we arrived at our hotel, Princess Salme Inn, we were scared. It looked like such a dive. I don’t think we would have even entered the building except for the fact that we had already paid a deposit on the room. Bummer. So we enter this building that has ten rabid kittens in the lobby (the owner said they were the security) and we hesitantly check into our room. It surprisingly turned out to be pretty nice and Amanda I were in agreement that their shower was the best we’ve used since living in Africa. It’s funny the things you get excited over after living here for a while.

Good ol' Princess Salme Inn

For the remaining time in Stone Town we visited all the local attractions but mainly toured through the city. The streets are a continuous maze that was easy to get lost in…so we did. We wandered looking at the shops, restaurants, hotels, and admired the architecture and doors which is what Zanzibar is known for.

the streets of Stone Town

We found an AWESOME antique store!

At the market that night for dinner we tried Zanzibar style pizza (it’s more like a crape than pizza), barracuda, garlic bread, shrimp, calamari, octopus, falafel, and squid. For dessert we had some kind of pizza with nutella, bananas, and milk. Most of the food was good! Even better, we didn’t get sick from eating it.

At the market for dinner. Everything imaginable from the sea was for sale there.

For our third course that night, Zanzibar style desert pizza. It was all so fun and different we just couldn't stop trying new food!

We also visited the former slave market where there is now one of only five Christian churches on the island. Although incredibly sad, it was equally as interesting. The church is meant to symbolize new life. Baptisms now take place over what was once a pit used for dumping dead bodies. The old whipping post where people were beaten before being auctioned off is now the altar and surrounding that altar are ornate carvings of angels. The church is still used for services every week and we were told they are always full.

Memorial to those who lost their lives as slaves

the church that covers the former slave market

It was an awesome vacation and my last before moving home to Portland this summer.

Holiday Goats

You can’t celebrate Easter in Kenya without goat…so we’re told.

We all gathered in the kitchen early that morning, not for a traditional day of work, but for preparing our Easter feast. Everyone had their task: chopping vegetables, slaughtering goat, making Kikuyu sausages, preparing chapati, etc. Ian purchased two goats for the occasion and as they were wandering around the Centre campus days before they were slaughtered, the thought of eating them made me nauseous. Traditionally, women aren’t allowed to play any role in the slaughtering of goats (it’s men’s work), so when the opportunity presented itself, many of our staff women eagerly signed up. By far my favorite Kenyan food is chapati. Instead of just eating a lot of it, I’ve been wanting to learn how to make it for myself for some time now. After preparing around 100 of them by hand with one of our house mothers Lillian, I can say with confidence I know how to make chapati!

This was the first time we’d all been together at the Centre on more of a social level. Everyone really let loose and enjoyed the day. The kitchen was packed. People were singing and dancing. There was so much smoke you could hardly see across the room. People were everywhere. Blood was everywhere. The American’s seemed to be the only ones bothered by it.

As Karibu Centre staff, residents, volunteers, and friends sat down to eat, it was like one big family gathered for a holiday meal. It was unlike any Easter feast I’ve ever had or will probably ever have again. Just another Kenyan holiday at Karibu Centre!

Community of Believers

After a fun filled birthday weekend in Limuru, I experienced what was one of the most memorable Sunday mornings I’ve ever had….on a porch in Kenya.

Instead of driving into Nairobi for church that morning, we opted to stay home and have our own service. Ten of us gathered on the porch that morning. The sun was shining and birds were chirping as we sang to music played off a computer from iTunes. After a few minutes of prayer, Nick shared what God had placed on his heart recently. Following his message, we gathered in discussion, shared our thoughts and struggles, and asked for accountability. To conclude our service, we closed with communion and prayer.

My heart was touched that morning. The fact that a group of 20 something’s working as missionaries and aid-workers, from all over the world, can gather on a porch in Kenya for a time of worship and prayer and share so openly our faults, fears, what God has placed on our hearts, and to lift each other up in prayer… it was the most spiritually uplifting Sunday morning I’ve had in recent memory. This was the first time I’ve ever experienced anything like this with my peers.

After our porch service, we gathered in the kitchen to cook an amazing Sunday brunch. Growing up in Arkansas, it was a weekly tradition for my whole family to come home from church and cook a meal together that we would spend the rest of the day trying to sleep off. We pretty much cleaned out the refrigerator that morning – scrambled eggs, reheated sausage, pancakes, fried potato patties (from leftover mashed potatoes from our Southern night). It was a true feast!

Over brunch we discussed what church and community should look like. I love my church back home and miss it greatly. I have never learned so much or felt the Holy Spirit speak to me like it does when I’m at Solid Rock. But this Sunday I began asking the question, why have I limited myself to what church can be? Church can be more than going to a building to sit in on a service with loud music and machines projecting lyrics to songs and bible verses. The church is the body of believers.

There’s something to be said for going to church, but to having a more intimate family that you can really share, reflect, pray, and gain accountability with is just as important. Ian and Anne have a small group back home and over their many years together, they’ve all become like a second family. They are, after all, brothers and sisters in Christ. This community is continuously sending care packages, e-mails, encouragement, prayer, Skype sessions, and Christmas presents (they even adopted me this year) to the May’s. It’s an amazing thing to see and I feel that for the first time, I caught a glimpse of this at the Limuru house on Sunday.

On the drive home that afternoon, I couldn’t help but think what a huge blessing this day was. What a huge lesson this day was. What should church and community look like to a body of believers? Well, I think my view of this was greatly expanded this past Sunday…and all on a porch with a bunch of crazy kids living Kenya.

A Day with Ruben

We set out for Nairobi that morning with one task – to find a part to a washing machine. I had no idea what this day would bring. Our groundsman, Ruben, is incredibly quiet and other than the occasional hello in the mornings, I hadn’t spent much time with him. I expected there to be a lot of awkward car silence on the way into town that morning so I turned up the radio in anticipation. To my surprise, Ruben and I started a conversation right away that kept a natural flow until we made it to town an hour and a half later. We spoke of family, America, WWF (all Kenyans are curious to find out if it’s real), jobs, Swahili, culture, and many other topics I can’t even remember. I was pleasantly surprised.

After finding the man that would get us this washing machine part, we had lots of time to kill. I had a couple of other errands to run so I headed to Westgate Mall to do them. I knew driving to Westgate that Ruben had never been there before and I was a little worried at what his reaction might be. Based on my experience, Kenyan’s get unmistakably awkward and uncomfortable within their new surroundings. It’s too new, too unfamiliar, and too nice for them. Ian, Anne, and I have discussed what it would be like to have any staff member visit us in America. We are convinced that they would hate every second of it. To live without their Kenyan food, Kenya craziness, and everything else familiar would be too overwhelming. Kind of like Kenya is to us at times. This is why we hang out in places like Westgate. It’s comforting. It’s the closest thing we have to being home. So, as Ruben and I are walking in the entrance to Westgate I look over as he’s taking it all in. His eyes are big as he looks up at the glass ceiling in awe of it all, like a kid at Disneyland for the first time.

One of my simple pleasures in Kenya is getting coffee. I decided I needed to introduce Ruben to Dorman’s coffee house. I could tell he was uncomfortable but tried to counteract that by talking…a lot. After a few minutes of staring blankly at the menu, it occurred to me he had no idea what any of the items listed were. I finally asked him what he wanted and ordered a tea and croissant for him, and a late and chocolate croissant for me. Turns out Ruben likes plain AND chocolate croissants.

Next I told him I had to run into Nakumat for a couple of groceries if he wanted to browse around the mall. He couldn’t believe you could walk around and look in all the fancy shops. He said, “They let you do that? You don’t have to buy anything?” It then occurred to me that he probably had never been on a lift (elevator) or escalator before either. We walked together and as he slowly stepped onto the escalator holding the railing, he let out the biggest smile. He was unsure of it all but loved every second of it. Unbalanced, he tried to time his step off the escalator perfectly, concentrating as the steps disappeared in front of him. His reaction was that of a child’s. In that moment, for those 20 seconds or so, I had never been happier. To see someone’s face light up over something so simple. To experience something with someone for the first time that I’d done a thousand times before. It was a wonderful moment I have trouble describing in words.

Our drive home was no exception to the wonderful day we’d had together. More talks about family, God, dating, work. The list goes on. As I dropped him off that afternoon, we both looked at each other differently. I think we both expected this day to be something altogether different. I’m so thankful we were wrong.