How is it the last week already?

This will probably be my last entry I’ll post in Kenya, but I have a couple more stories I want to put up before I do a conclusion post. Haha just in case you were wondering : )

It’s our last week here, but I’m trying to avoid doing the “this is the last Monday!” “this is the last Tuesday!” “This is the last time I’ll use the choo!” kind of things. I want to be present here every moment, because 1) I don’t the next time I’ll be here in Kenya (don’t like that thought) and 2) God put me here today. I don’t truly know if I’ll be here tomorrow, or if I’ll even be alive tomorrow. I so often try to live my life as if I control it. I act as if I do everything right, if I try hard enough, things will go my way. But I’ve discovered time and again on this trip how truly dependent I am. I can do nothing on my own- trust me, I’ve tried! I can’t make the kids learn, I can’t change anyone’s heart, I can’t even guarantee nice pictures or that I’ll have a good hair day. And I’ve learned that it’s ok, because it’s not my job. It’s not my job to make sure people like me or to make a positive impact on the world. I was created to glorify God-He’ll take care of the rest. Really, He will. But unless I offer myself and all my problems and worries and dreams in prayer, I cut Him off from my life. He. Answers. Prayers. I think if I’ve learned anything on this trip, it’s that. God has put me in situation after situation where I felt weak and out of my element. If I tried to do whatever it was myself, like teaching, I left the situation the same as I went in-feeling embarrassed and like a failure. But when I said, “God, I can’t teach these kids. I don’t know their language and I know there are more qualified teachers and I feel unnecessary and fairly worthless. But help me just being with these kids- may my weakness glorify You”, I had great days. Because I didn’t feel the pressure anymore. I could let it go. I wasn’t designed to be in control of my own life, much less everyone else’s around me. Yeah, I still struggle with fear and perfectionism and control. But I’m taking baby steps towards heaven, and I know my Daddy is there to catch me when I fall.

Nothing I have is mine

I’m constantly learning that what I have is not mine. Everything that I have is a gift, and when I hoard my money and my possessions as if I can’t bear to lose any of them (as if I deserve them in the first place) I lose the joy and freedom that could be mine if I wasn’t controlled by transient things. I’m humbled by people who have so much less than me and are yet so much more generous. One of the best examples of this are the unsung heroes of the Kibera school: the kitchen ladies. They cook daily for hundreds of children and are some of the strongest women I have ever met. Most of them have children of their own to take care of, as well as other children that they have adopted from family members of the community. Their humility and service are an incredible light, and though they are not glorified here I know their time is coming.
The Kenyan currency is about 89 shillings to the American dollar, and an average Kenyan wage is anywhere from 100-300 shillings. That’s about 1 to 3 dollars. But every day each of the four ladies in the kitchen puts 5 shillings in a can, and at the end of the week, if any of them are struggling to provide food or rent they use that kitchen fund. I am so encouraged by their hard-won kindness. They are humbled by their suffering and are beautiful because of it.

I didn't mean an actual "bucket" list

We got to go on an African Safari this weekend, which if I had a bucket list, it would be on it. It was just incredible. It’s the zebra and wildebeest migration season, and so there were thousands of them. We went on two game drives, one on Friday afternoon and a sunrise one on Saturday. I don’t think there was a single animal we didn’t see, from a cheetah to a rhino to a family of lions. God totally answered our prayers, and we were blessed with good fortune and good weather. However, my experience is now slightly tainted from the fact that 7 of our 10 team members spent the next two days puking and spending quality time with the bathroom. We’re not sure what did us in, but boy, whatever it was got us good. I felt fine until Sunday morning on the way to church, when as we stopped to get communion bread I started vomiting into a plastic bag in the supermarket parking lot. However, that is no comparison to poor Courtney who was forced to throw up in a choo. Choos are pit latrines, which I don’t even enjoy using the restroom in, much less putting my face near. And considering the fact that she threw up in one, twice, I’d say she gets the Trooper Award. Though Corey did preach an entire sermon about the Holy Spirit giving you strength while experiencing intense nausea, so that’s a close second (plus bonus points for being a literal illustration).  We’re all feeling better now, and hoping for a full recovery so we can enjoy our last days here without worrying about any health issues. But really, the sickness came at the best time (if we absolutely had to choose a time). It wasn’t on our last Sunday, hallelujah, and it wasn’t on the 6-hour van ride back on Kenyan roads. Hey silver lining hey.
It was a memorable weekend for a lot of reasons, but typical of Team Kenya, what we did, we did together. We like to think that it has only brought us closer, and trust me, it has. Though when I was spewing into a plastic bag in the back of the van, I think Virginia would’ve liked being a lot farther away.

Mimi ni American na Kenyan

Happy Independence Day! (Though I’ll be posting this on the 5^th) We celebrated the 4^th on the 2^nd actually, with the girls at Shunem Girl’s Home. It was a blast. We had hot dogs and baked beans with chapati and peas- best of both worlds. Then we had a water balloon toss which turned into a water balloon war, followed by the national anthem and giant confetti poppers. We added diet coke (or as they say here, Coca-Cola Light) with mentos for a little extra fizz, and ended with a game of futbol, Kenyans vs. Americans. Though the Kenyans probably would’ve won even if the odds were fair, 10 Americans against approximately 7000 Kenyans was a lost cause. It was so good to just be with all the girls, making sundaes, holding kittens, and dousing our authority figures with water. I’m so blessed to know all of them, and God definitely honored our hearts for these girls by granting us an incredibly fun day.

Tomorrow we’ll be walking all the way across Kibera, and I’m looking forward to experiencing even more than just our little part of the slum. Each day that we go in I’m reminded that for some people, Kibera is the whole world. There are stores and schools and hang-out spots, people who are scraping together their rent, people who help each other, people who are consumed with greed, people who wonder every day why they bother getting up in the morning. Cultures are different, human nature is the same.

i'm back!

Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve updated! We’re still going strong, but we’ve just passed the halfway point of the trip and it’s a weird feeling to know that we only have 3 Sundays left here. My summer has been so full. My biggest fear was that I would leave unchanged, and now I know that isn’t going to happen. I’ve realized so much about myself, about how I view the world, and God, and the people in my life. Every day in the van as we pass vendors, children, donkeys and goats rummaging through trash, sunsets, acacia trees, drunks, brightly colored buildings, and sunlit grass I wonder how I will ever communicate this experience to anyone else.  So I will try to take more pictures, write down more stories, and breathe each moment into my memory. But there will always be a piece of my heart here in Kenya that I can’t express to anyone else, held in the little hands of every child I’ve held or prayed for or shook hands with as I pass. This world is short. We all die. We die of AIDS or a car accident or old age. We hold so tightly to this world and it slides through our fists with the slipperiness of time. I can’t convince you to let go of everything that makes you feel secure. But I know that God has a better plan for you that you can only accomplish when you live solely for His glory. We pursue our own happiness with undivided devotion, only to find ourselves in the messy center of a broken lie that left us washed in failure and disappointment. And yet my initial reaction to living life in order to serve and glorify God is, “What’s the point in that?” I don’t see how that could possibly benefit me, because I have bought into the lie that I will only be happy when I live for myself.  I think that no one will applaud me if I don’t work so hard to show how awesome I am, that no one will love me so I have to put myself first. The problem with that life is that it’s motivated by fear and feeling unloved. But when you realize that you are already incredibly loved and seen, you don’t have to work for attention anymore. I can serve others knowing that I am passionately adored by the One who created me and sustains my every breath. Then I don’t need to be addicted to other’s opinions of me. I’m free from needing anything that can’t fulfill me, and full of the only One who can.

Mugs O' Fat

I had some mistaken preconceptions about this summer. You know, like I’m going to get tan from the African heat and thin from eating ugali and kale every day. Well, first of all it’s winter here.  Secondly in Kenya it’s polite to eat a lot. We eat plentiful helpings of rice and lentils, chicken and ugali, chapati (CHAPATI IS SO DELICIOUS) and green grams, toast and eggs in the morning, etc, etc. So it sounds pretty healthy, which it is, but we eat… a lot. And I’m happy about it. But there’s something else you need to know about Kenya. The Kit-Kats here are, I don’t even know how to explain it. They are little miracles of sugar-filled joy. Plus, at buy 2 get 1 free at Nakumat you better believe we stock up on those guys. So basically somehow they surpass their American counterparts by miles. Hint-dip them in Skippy peanut butter.

But if the Kit-Kats aren’t enough sugar for our American sweet teeth, the girls made chocolate-chip cookies for our Kenyan friends. What we didn’t anticipate was having no idea how to make a Kenyan oven work. But hakuna matata everybody. We just scooped that delicious vat of fat into mugs and took it to our room for a late-night snack. Actually, we carried them, and by we I mean I,  around the whole night. Y’know, just in case it might try to run away.

And you’re probably wondering whether or not we feel really bad about ourselves knowing that we shoveled chocolate-covered diabetes into our bodies. Silly American, you must not realize that here calories are written on labels as “energy”. So you see, we just stocked up energy in our bodies for future use. And we continue to fill up our mugs full of various kinds of energy, generally in preparation for a hard night of sleep.

I can’t wait to see how energetic I am in three weeks.

Ha. Ha.

Soko Fo Sho

We got to go to a legit market last Monday and do our grocery shopping. They have a store called Nakumat, which is basically a Kenyan Walmart, but they don’t buy fruits and vegetables there. Real Kenyans go to a market and bargain for their kale, arrowroot, mangoes, bananas, etc. And since we’re real Kenyans now, obviously, we went to the Kiserian market to find our weekly middle of the food pyramid. At least I think they’re in the middle of the food pyramid. I don’t keep up with the hip nutrition trends. Anyway… So we drive up in the middle of the Maasai part of the market in our very inconspicuous blue van full of white people. Fishbowl feeling for sure. Actually one guy put his face completely on the other side of Lauren’s window, which you would think would lead our Kenyan guides to warn us to keep the windows shut. False. They told us to open the windows and be a part of the experience. Haha…really? So by the time we had to get out, we were a wee bit overwhelmed. The girls just kept chanting, “confidence is key, confidence is key,” in fairly unconfident voices. But once we got outside, the market seemed a lot more friendly. I followed Purity around, sitting on random vendor’s potatoes (woops), getting a little closer to Kenyan men than I would’ve originally planned, and attempting to speak Kiswahili. But overall it was a great experience, and I feel like I got to have a real soko (market in swahilli) experience.

p.s.

Attention all Kenyan men that own cell phones with camera capabilities. We know you aren’t texting.