THE CHALLENGE OF THE MOUNTAIN AND ITS ROCK

The morning after we arrived here in Ndalini, I went looking for a place to meditate.  I found a path that appeared to lead to the river, so I followed it.  I soon emerged from the brush to find the river, rich in its brownish color saturated by the soil washed from above. 

In front of me in the water, were large flat boulders with edges well rounded from the years of polishing by the river’s waters.  Finding one that was suitable for sitting, I moved to it.  My eyes were drawn to the opposite bank. 

Could this be Eden?

There was one of the most beautiful tropical trees I have ever experienced.  Its branches graced by their green and silver fronds, were expanding from the trunk forming something similar to a 4^th of July firework. 

But there was more to this view than the spectacular tree.  The tree formed the edge of my perception of a mountain in the distance.  More inspiring yet was the huge boulder at the very peak of the mountain. 

The beauty of the river below the mountain and its boulder.

It appeared quite out of place.  One might think that some kind of human action had managed to place it there.  Even more unique was that the boulder appeared to hang beyond the support of the mountain.  Would it fall any minute?  Logic told me that it must have been there for centuries and would therefore be quite secure.

At breakfast that morning, I asked my hostess about the mountain.  “Did it have a name?”  The native population had not given it a name, but the staff and students had dubbed it Mully Mountain after the person who is responsible for the Mully Children’s Foundation, Dr. Charles Mully. 

My next question was, “Do people climb it?”  You probably already know where I was headed.  It was suggested that we wait for cooler weather before undertaking such a venture. 

Six weeks later, the weather cooled, and we had two days without rain so the ascent would not be slippery from the mud.  Anne had wanted to leave early in the morning to avoid the heat, but our hostess liked to sleep in, so our departure was delayed until 10:30 AM.   Two recent male graduates (called senior beneficiaries because they choose to continue sharing their talents and abilities with the younger students) were recruited to assist her in guiding us. 

One of these recruits hopes to go into photography.  We quickly bonded as we talked shop.  His companion was the instructor for the Karate team.  I would later be glad to have his presence and strength as he reached down on a couple of occasions to almost lift me over some of the worst rock obstacles. 

I have done enough exploration of rough terrain to know how to prepare myself.  I had my hat for protection from the sun, my fanny pack with my water bottle, sun screen, camera and my camcorder.  My tennis shoes were laced as tight as possible to give me extra support, and I was wearing my old pants. 

What amazed me the most on this adventure was the preparation of my guides.  The photographer was attired much the same as I, but the Karate instructor was dressed in shorts, foam rubber flipflops, no hat and even worse, no water bottle.  Our hostess was dressed in jeans, and carried a bag with an emergency first aid kid, a water bottle larger than mine, but wore sandals suitable for a party rather than climbing.   

We began our journey by walking across the bridge to the other side of the river.  Our path paralleled the river for a short distance. 

The sound of the water gives evidence of its force.

I could see in the distance the beauty of the white water moving through rapids where I had earlier experienced the woman with the donkey.

Terraced fields add contrasting colors of black soil and green folliage.

We turned away from the river and into flat land graced by the emerging green of plants.  They had been touched by the warmth of the sun and the moisture of the recent rains, and they would soon be producing food for the dry months in the future.  The soil around us was a deep rich black and contained newly planted corn with 6” growth. 

The slow pace of life here by the river.

 I could see the results of a plow probably drawn by oxen in the deep furrows created to remove competing weeds. 

We passed several grazing goats hobbled with long ropes attached to a leg and secured to trees.  We also passed residences of local people. 

A quiet and simple life.

Traditional grass roofs adorned some of the storage buildings, and I felt like we had entered a piece of ancient and primitive African past.  I inquired where the people were and how they earned a living as it appeared the residents in every dwelling had left for the day.  It was suggested that they probably worked for the Mully Children’s Family, the only employer in the area.  I also asked about the crops and if the owners sold the crops at a market somewhere.  The reply was negative.  They would be totally consumed by the family.  I looked at the kale planting that was as big as my whole garden and asked how they could consume that much kale.  I was told that there would probably be at least three to four generations living within the small residence and the paternal figure might have several wives with resulting multiple offspring. 

Beginning our climb.

After walking close to a mile and gradually climbing about 300’ feet, we reach the point where we leave the trail and begin climbing the rocks toward the peak. 



  The path is quite overgrown with all sorts of bushes and green brush. 

Are you sure we are on the path?

I think that my guides should have brought a machete.  How will I be able to navigate my way amongst the rocks if I can’t even see them? 

I soon find my hat pulled from my head and impaled on the thorns of an overhanging tree.  I try to pull it free only to find my shirt also becoming entangled.  The more I pull, the more I become intermeshed with its talons.  My hostess comes to my rescue.  Rather than pulling, I must move back toward the tree’s branches.  She explains that the thorns are like fish hooks, and as I give up and move toward the tree, she expertly releases me from the tree and returns my hat.

I have now discovered that it is to my disadvantage to be the tallest member of the climbing team.  Everyone else is able to easily duck under such restrictive fauna.

We continue to climb, and I find myself very concerned about my ability to go all the way to the summit.  I am trying to find good footing in the undergrowth, avoid the hat grabbing trees, and wipe the sweat from my forehead and my glasses.  Making it even worse is finding one of our male guides picking up rocks.  When I ask why, he replies he will throw them ahead of us to scare the snakes.  I am not afraid as the two males are preceding me.  However, I know Anne’s fears of snakes, and I decide to say nothing to her. 

Soon my hostess spots a very small drop of blood on the back of my hand.   This is probably a result of  my shirt being entangled by the hat grabbing tree.  Immediately she stops me, and out comes the first aid kit.  Some brown liquid is applied and rubbed all over the back of my hand.

A Band-Aid is quickly applied, but due to my extreme quantities of sweat, it refuses to stick.   I am more worried about the amount of water Anne and I are consuming than the small injury on my hand.  Because of the heat and the amount of physical energy I am exerting, I am drinking more than expected, and Anne is also overheating and consuming much more than usual.  Our first bottle is almost empty.  We have a second bottle but we have just started to climb.

I estimated that the temperature was at least in the upper 80’s and found myself agreeing with Anne’s suggestion (that was not followed), we should have left in the cool of the early morning.   I also know Anne’s difficulties with heat and decide that I should reduce my water consumption, saving what we have for her.  However, I am not doing well and know that I am going to have to take in more water, especially if I hope to reach the top.  I had not anticipated this much heat and the amount of fluids my body is releasing. 

 

After finding a large rock in the shade of a tree, we rest in the refreshing coolness. 

Too bad they have to wait for the old folk. 

I begin to recover.  We return to climbing and quickly approach a small farm.  The dogs run out to greet us, and we find a beautiful ancient woman sitting, resting on her cane under a tree.  Her face is deeply creased by her years of labor, and I enjoy watching her facial expression of warmth coming through her toothless smile.  Our guides share a few words with her in the native tongue, and we return to the purpose of our hike. 

As we leave the farm, the trail suddenly loses its heavy underbrush and all we have to impair our climb are the rocks forming rather large irregular and difficult stepping stones.  I find myself with a sense of refreshment that our trail has been opened, but I still need more water, and I am afraid to consume more of our valuable liquid if Anne is to continue the climb. 

When we are about 2/3 of the way up the mountain, I can see that Anne’s face is getting quite red, and I know that she is overheating.  I know it will take more than water to keep her going.  So I suggest that she and our hostess find a nice tree for shade and wait while my two male companions and I continue the climb.  I ask the hostess to share some of her extra water with Anne, and I leave with our second bottle. 

At this point, we have just come to a low area or a passage way between two tall peaks of the mountain.   A beautiful cooling and refreshing breeze greets us coming up from the other side of the pass.  I also find myself stimulated by the awesome view of the new valley revealed below us. 

Another world greets us from the other side of the mountain!

Suddenly, I find myself quickly recovering my strength and enthusiasm.  My new found assertiveness helps me to continue the climb with the strength and pace of my two guides. 

I must admit that on a couple of occasions, I am pleased that the taller guide reaches down to me with his arm, almost lifting me up rather large rocks.  I am encouraged and grateful for his support and also find my strength continuing to increase.  We stop many times as we advance to marvel the view.  I and my photographer guide also take time to capture the beauty of the inspirational experience with our cameras. 

The green released by the rains after the "dry season".

Eventually, we reach the level below the big rock, but my guides decide we are not going further. 

Boulder on left hangs over the valley below.

My guide with the foam shower shoes (who has consumed no water since we started our journey) turns to me, extending his hand in congratulations stating I have climbed higher than anyone else my age.   I have heard that there is a crevasse above that one must jump to reach the big boulder that sits on top of the mountain.  Apparently he has questioned the strength left in my 70 year old legs, and I am not about to argue. 

My challenge is completed!!!

We admire the view below and the big rock above us. We exchange cameras and take pictures of each other to document our accomplishment. 

The trip back down to where we had left Anne and our hostess was a true joy.  I was careful to follow the advice of my hostess who had continually advised me to watch where I was stepping rather than where I was going.  Outside of some minor slipping on loose gravel, the downward trip was quite uplifting.  I did manage to avoid taking the hostess’ advice some of the time, taking many pictures as I admired the beauty of the fertile fields in the valley below. 

White roof is the MCF greenhouse.

Soon, we found Anne and the hostess under the tree where we had left them.  We climbed a big flat rock overlooking the valley and paused for picture taking with the green terraced fields behind us. 

The rest of the descent was a joy, especially greeting the ancient woman, sitting in the same chair where we had left her on our assent.  Also present was the energy and freshness of a young male teen sitting with her.  Our guides again thanked them for allowing us entrance to the mountain via their land. 

As we returned to the community trail, several young children were approaching us as they returned from school.  They quickly moved with their shyness to the ditch along the trail allowing us, their seniors to pass.

Thika River, the life blood of this environment.

 

The rest of our return to MCF was blessed with the opportunity to ask many questions of our guides, helping us to gain more knowledge and a better comprehension of the beauty and fullness of this simple life in rural Kenya. 

What did I gain from my experience?  Being 70 years old has definite advantages.  Life’s opportunities have left me with a great capacity to benefit from what I find within and around me.  Once again I have discovered that I must continue to challenge myself if I am to profit from my experiences.  But more important is the need to be aware of myself and my interaction with my environment (both land and people).  Hopefully this awareness will lead me to many more opportunities in life.

I know that there is a guiding force that will lead me if I allow myself to be led (whether it be with extraction from hat grabbing trees, being lifted up rocks, or deciding when we have gone far enough).  You may call it what you wish, or you can join me in my perception that this is how I experience “My” God!!!   Yes, this country, these people, and the students and staff at Mully Children’s Family are truly “ReCreating Eden” and me. 

BENCHES

The usual bench seating arrangement.

Metal benches, 8 feet in length, provide the seating for the MCF children in the main hall where they gather for devotion, church, and various entertainments.  750 children, the staff and their families are accommodated on these sturdy benches. 

Remarkable is the process of how these are filled for each event.  Observing this provides an example of the positive social interaction that is prevalent among these children.

There are some unspoken rules for this process.  First, everyone is welcome on the bench; girls, boys, young and old make up the population of each bench. 

Rule number two: After you are seated on the bench, you are expected to slide over for any new occupants who need a seat. 

Boy, this is a long service!

Rule three: There is no limit to the number of people who may occupy a bench.  I have witnessed as many as 7adolescent boys all squeezed onto one bench.  Everyone needs a seat, so creativity provides unlimited possibility for accommodation.  I have observed 9 small children sitting with their arms around each other, two balanced on another’s knees.



Always room for one more!!!

 This close physical contact appears to be something the children accept.  I wonder if they possibly experience it as a comfort.  One of the students stated, “We are a family here…everything belongs to everyone”.

At one of the church services, it began to rain.  Kenyan rain comes without warning and can be extremely heavy.  Pounding on the metal roof of the hall, it was deafening.  The service grew to a halt.  Then the wind began. 

This created a problem, as Kenyan buildings have large openings (windows) with no capacity to be closed.  These openings allow for maximum ventilation during the severe heat.  This is a good plan for all weather except wind and rain.  The rain poured through the openings into the hall.  All who were seated on the side of the wind shifted into the center of the hall. 

In the usual MCF style, everyone adjusted to the added population on their benches.  Small children were put on laps, more were squeezed in, some benches were moved in between others, and the church service continued.

Resourcefulness!
That's how 250 kids watch Sat. movies on a 26" TV screen.

I have been told that in 2008 a political crisis resulted in mass killing and torture here in a community here in Kenya. Disregarding the extreme danger, “Daddy” Mully took the MCF bus into the dangerous city and removed 500 newly orphaned children to the safety of MCF. 

This large number of children was absorbed into the dormitories and classrooms with the uncomplaining cooperation of the 250 children who were already living here.  Imagine tripling the number of people in your home, classroom, or church. 

Beds, food, clothing, books and benches were openly shared.  They gave the same welcome to their new brothers and sisters as they had received when they first arrived at MCF.

MCF is a “family”.  When you are family, you move over and share your space (bench) with another child who needs it.

A new record. 
There were 9 on this bench just before I took this picture.



SUGGESTIONS FOR READING A BLOG

A blog is like a diary, but it is backwards.  The most recent posting is the one that you will see when you log on to the blog.  To read previous postings, click on a title in the list to the right. At the bottom of each posting is a box where you can add your comments.

If you wish to send us an email, we are only using wakenhut@casair.net while we are here.  We are NOT USING share@collectingconsort.com

Thanks for joining us.  We would love to hear your responses to the pictures and the pieces we have written.

May your day be blessed with opportunity for assisting others!!!

Anne and Gary

THE MIRACLE OF THE BEAN SEED



 A miricale in one's hand.



"Perfect" beans raised hydrophonically
in one of the greenhouses.

The harvest from the 150 acre farm here in Ndalini and the 700 acres at the Yatta MCF facility, (primarily French green beans, tomatoes and kale) feeds the 2030 students in the Mully Childrens Family programs throughout Kenya. 

Kale plants.

That which is not eaten by the students is sold locally and to Europe, providing over 50% of the funding for the MCF programs.  Since the work on these farms is hand labor rather than mechanical, there is a considerable labor force involved. 

Women cultivating using traditional hoes.

MCF’s preference for hand labor does more than provide an economical means for raising food and money for their programs.  They perceive it as preventing future street children and orphans.  If employment is available in this extremely poor area, the men and/or women will not have to go to Nairobi, the capital.  This migration for employment is a major reason for family separations and orphaned children.

Watering tree seedlings for transplant.

MCF does more than provide a source of income for the local families.  They also realize that healthy workers create more produce and a greater return of profit.  Therefore, all the workers return home with a share of what they have picked or produced that day. 

Hand watering newly emerged tomatos ready for transplant to the field.

They and their families are also eligible for free medical care.   MCF sees itself as more than an orphanage.  Its goal is to provide Kenya with a future that includes viable incomes and healthy families. 

Spiritual care is also provided for MCF’s field workers.  There is a worship service every Monday and individual spiritual guidance upon request. 

Pastor Josiah Munigi

My close friend, Josiah (the pastor here) has told me about the difficulties in approaching this population with messages about God.  Many of these people still believe in multiple gods and rely heavily on witch doctors for medical treatment.  Apparently, these “doctors” make a cut on the arm to let some blood, and then charge their fees.  Due to the placebo effect, the people feel better and leave.  However, they will become dependent upon the witch doctor for their feelings of physical wellbeing, depleting not only their blood but also their pocket book. 

Bringing in green beans from the field.

Josiah encourages them to take advantage of the free health care provided by MCF and to believe in their own “healing” power, rather than being dependent upon the witch doctors.  I find him amazingly progressive in his perspective.  He comes from my belief that a healthy spiritual perspective will create a well balanced person and a physically healthy body. 

Josiah has no desire to create a spiritual dependency as their minister.  Instead, he encourages them to participate in their own lives of spiritual prayer rather than expecting him to pray for them.  He does speak strongly of a need to find Jesus as one’s savior, but even stronger is his belief that we should accept what we have been given as a gift from God.  We should build our lives and our futures upon these assets while choosing behaviors that will please God.  Such a spiritual approach will lead to a return of abundance in the form of blessings from God. 

Repairing wall of talapia fish pond.

I have been intrigued by Josiah’s approach, so I offered Anne’s and my musical services for next Monday’s offering to the farm workers.  This would give me a chance to witness his work. 

I should have known better.  MCF continually pushes Anne’s and my growing edge.  They ask us to undertake tasks where we feel ill prepared.  Challenges of this nature are a key part of the MCF’s high level of achievement with their staff and students. 

Josiah accepted our offer of music but also requested that I provide the message for the workers.   I must admit that I felt rather unqualified with his request.  However, I accepted, not having the faintest idea what I might say.  Keep in mind that most of these people have a limited knowledge of English. Therefore, I will provide my message a phrase at a time, and Joasiah will translate for the workers. 

True to the MCF spiritual belief that God will provide what you need when you need it, I awoke the next morning with the image of a bean seed and the realization that this seed is a miracle.  If planted in the ground, given warmth and moisture, it will begin to grow. 

New life emerging

If care is continued, it will grow into a plant, blossom and form pods.  The pods will mature and form more bean seeds within.  What starts as one seed will yield 100 fold, God’s living miracle of growth and life, all from one seed. 

I began to think about the workers I will address.  Since they plant, nurture, and pick these seeds, I can identify them as God’s miracle workers.  They truly are miracle workers when you consider that their investment feeds 2030 students and finances one half of MCF program.  I wonder if anyone has told them that. 

Joasiah has requested that I include suggestions for their families.  I will therefore continue the theme of God’s miracle workers as I suggest that their smiles and caring for others will produce the same result as their tending of the bean seeds.  Maybe some words about positive reinforcement rather than punishment will also evolve.  Somehow, I may also work in the concept of forgiveness as a part of their role as God’s miracle workers. 



Workers with crates walking to bean fields.

Yes, like these workers, I will be serving as a God’s messenger as I plant these seeds on Monday morning.  And to conclude, I will give each of them a bean seed to remind them of their role as God’s miracle workers for MCF and in their families.   

Awakening to an African morning at MCF

                    

Six o’clock in the morning and Mulli Children’s Family is already bustling. 

The night watchman exchanges greetings with the day watchman.


Always carrying a stick, we enjoy their
warmth and quiet smiles. 

 There is a rhythmic tapping of the chisels of the men chipping stone blocks into shape for construction.

A fine craftsman at work. 

Water is being poured on cement as Rebecca does the daily washing (with a rag) of our dining area. 

I open my eyes to the halo of mosquito netting above me and the brilliant African sunlight pours though the windows.  There is a sweet, dark smell of the moist earth after a night rain.

 

Even with this protection,
we hear them outside trying to get in. 

Over the sound of unfamiliar birds, I hear the chatter of the children.  Their laughter travels from the river where they do their morning bathing and laundry. 

Thika River behind our residence.

I also hear the children singing.  This singing is what awakens me every morning and puts me to sleep at night.  Only during school hours is there rarely any singing.

Anne's choir (little ones often join their brothers and sisters unexpectedly).

All of the children here sing in one or more of the many choirs.  These choirs perform during devotions, church, and talent evenings.  Children as young as first grade will be seen organizing themselves to sing a song for the rest of the students.  I feel this singing is therapeutic, inspiring, entertaining, and a constant activity for all involved.

I rise and move to the open dining space to hear the singing more clearly.  The ten dogs who are kept for “security” enthusiastically greet me.  Seven puppies bark and whine as they tumble over each other to reach me.  The acceptance and desire for contact expressed by the dogs is the MCF way. 

These puppies have doubled in size since we arrived.

Everyone reaches out to greet me as I enter their classrooms, play areas, devotion hall, etc.  Connecting to one another is the priority.  Nothing is more important than acknowledging another person.

I have been blessed with another day filled with many opportunities to experience the acceptance and positive energy of MFC.

Morning sun reaches the mountain under the dark of rain clouds. 

KENYAN TIME

One week of a bad cold following a bad reaction to my malaria prevention medication, three weeks of hives, two days of diarrhea from too much corn (a food allergy), ...

Tonight's dinner.

dogs barking and howling throughout the night under my window, meals of beans and ugali (a corn product) which disagree with my digestive system, minimal teaching materials, knuckles sore from hand washing our clothes, ...

 

Nice view for washing clothes!

 schedules which constantly change, intense heat and high humidity before downpours, ...



Did you shut the windows before we left?

and sticky mud everywhere. 

I shouldn't have worn these today!!!





Remove shoes before entering!

All this led me to into a very despondent place last week.  The challenges here seemed beyond my grasp.  After spending three days wallowing in a state of despair, I realized that I was in Africa, not home.  With that “brilliant” conclusion, I began to search for my reason for being here. 

I am still in this process, still not knowing my total purpose here at MCF.  However, I am aware that I need to reorient myself.  First I need to accept things as they are…there’s really no choice.

I begin by taking stock of my situation. 

Anne reviewing lesson with her student.

Regarding the choir and my keyboard student, I have one copy of each of the songs I am attempting to teach them.  There is no printer here, making it impossible to print anything from our computer or to make copies of existing music.  Therefore any music that I have received via email sits useless in our computer. 

Our students: choir, guitars and keyboard

Adding to the challenge is the fact that the African harmony is primarily thirds, so the choir has no ear for fourths or fifths.  None of them read music which has made this even more difficult to teach.  Since I have no black board or large paper, I have resorted to using the cardboard packaging from the guitars to print my lyrics for the choir.  Luckily, I thought to pack some markers that work well for this purpose. 

I have felt like I am struggling against a strong current for the past week.  It appears that my goals will never be attained.  For the next three weeks, my choir students are reviewing and then taking their final exams (these exams will determine if they go on to college).  This means that they will be unable to attend practices for the rest of my time here.  Since I was given no prior knowledge of this, I had just introduced two new songs with the plan of learning them and perfecting the previous six pieces for their tour after the first of the year.

 I am learning that having a “plan” here is what creates much of my frustration.  Nothing goes as “planned” here.  Other possibilities take priority, power fails for two days (leaving the keyboard ineffective for rehearsals and a planned performance), rain (a downpour) keeps everyone waiting under shelter (sometimes for hours), cows and goats passing through the campus delay student arrival for practice, communication confusion (two languages) causes the wrong people to arrive at incorrect times or even on the wrong day. 

I have finally calculated that “Kenyan time” is at least 20 minutes later that the stated expectation.  However, I have also learned that if I arrive late (having used the “Kenyan time” calculation), the person to meet may leave.  If I designate a time to meet someone, that person will usually need to be called (thank goodness for cell phones) and reminded of our appointment in order for our meeting to occur, usually an hour late.

 Life here has a totally “present” attitude.  Whoever is already there or has just arrived takes priority.  All other appointments take a secondary place until the current person has concluded his or her business.   Kenyans have the ability to slide in whatever direction necessary for functioning in the current situation.  Life is very fluid.  Time appears not to exist.  Everyone here understands that plans change.  The major problem is that I do not understand this and I therefore am the cause of much confusion and stress.


Anne teaching English class.

At first, we asked for a specific schedule for the week.  When we realized there was absolutely no comprehension of our need for that, we asked for a schedule for the next day.  The closest we get to prior knowledge of our activities for the day is each morning after breakfast.  If I ask for a time for some event, I am told, “I’m not sure” or “perhaps this week some time”. 

 
The question, “When is lunch?” is answered with “I’m not sure, perhaps 12:30”.  Lunch is then presented at 1:30.  When I am to teach a class at 1:00, I ask for lunch at 12:30.  It is then served at 1:30 and no one seems concerned when I arrive almost an hour late to teach.

I have found the best practice is to learn the art of treading water.  Picking a destination to swim to only creates frustration and confusion.  Going with the flow of the current is possibly a better choice.  This awareness reminds me of some advice I was given by a white water raft guide.  He said that if we fell overboard that the best plan was to float.  “That way”, he said, “you will safely avoid the dangerous rocks and most likely survive”.  Perhaps floating is the best choice at MCF.

Preparing for exams.

My first great insight is that I have absolutely no control over what happens here.  Those who live here find themselves content with this style of functioning.  They all believe that God has a plan for them. They know they are expected to work hard, be committed to their goals, and to pray.  For all of them, it’s just that simple.  They accept that you are not the one to decide your future, be it for the current moment, tomorrow, or the next year.  Your life is in God’s hands.  He is in charge.

Simple beauty.

This thinking is absolutely foreign to me.  In fact it has never been part of my lifestyle.  I have to admit that the people here at MCF are very content, hard working, committed, and definitely know how to pray.  They have created some exceptional students who have done great things with their lives and have grown to be fine family members.  Many are making great contributions to their communities, making a positive difference in the quality of the lives of others.  Maybe I need to explore their “Kenyan time”…perhaps there are some valuable lessons to learn about how to live my life….we’ll see…

My thoughts turn to moments I have experienced here as I contemplate all this…the mist on the mountain in the early morning, the lush green bean plants on the MCF farm, ...

Irrigated beans in the morning sun.

the wide smiles and the deep eye contact that enter your very soul, ...

This is my family.

the statements of appreciation from the students after we play our instruments, the improvised drama that moves me to tears,...

Drama club gives us a command performance.

 observing the gentle nurturing that exists between the children,...



Caring for a brother.

the constant sound of laughter, the joyous singing and loud praying that sets the rhythm for each day. 750 lively students study, play, eat, ...

I'll share with you.

and worship together every day in very crowded, challenging conditions.

I have not seen a single incident of discord, nor have I heard anyone cry or complain in the five weeks I have been here.  There is something unique happening here.  I remain in awe and gratitude for the opportunity to witness it. I don’t know if I will ever totally comprehend it.





Think it will snow?  (Kenyan time)