Another Dose of Reality...

What you are about to read is a tough story.  Some of it may be too much for some of you, but it is what happened.  It covers some of the realities that the people of Kenya face on a regular basis.  It covers something that I (Sean) needed to be a part of; something that I needed to experience.  Not because of morbid curiosity, but it could be something I will need to face in the future here.  I have not included names in this story because I do not feel it is appropriate at this time.

This week, one of our staff members lost her son to an illness.  What that illness was, I am not sure.  It was something that he had been battling for a while. But, this seemed to take his life without warning.  The son was twenty-three years old.  The mother was so distraught over her son’s death that she didn’t know what her next steps should be.  A few of us from In Step went to her house to help her get her son to the mortuary.  Not something that we really do in the West.  The transport of our loved ones is usually left to a coroner, or a funeral home.

When we got to the home, there were a few community members there to offer their support and condolences.  As we entered the house, sitting in a chair in the corner, was our Auntie.  At her feet was her son. He was placed on a tattered foam mattress, and covered over with a bed sheet.  I am not sure how long she had been sitting there.

The story we were told about how this came about was that her son had vomited blood earlier in the day.  He told her not to worry, that he believed that God performed the operation he needed to be well again.  Later that evening, a friend paid him a visit and the two of them talked about everyday things.  The friend got up to leave, and shortly after leaving the door, heard the young man vomiting again.  He entered the house to see that he was throwing up blood again.  Our Auntie was in the room trying to comfort her son, who kept telling her that he was weak, and that she shouldn’t worry, but just hold him.  I believe that he fell asleep and died in her arms.

After we greeted the woman, she pulled back the sheet to show us her son.  He was positioned in a manner that made it look like he was sleeping.  His hands placed up beside his head.  We asked her what she needed us to do.  She had no idea.  We asked her if her family was here to help her.  She said that two of her other sons were away, and were trying to arrange transport to come.  Her brother was going to be arriving on Sunday (this was on Friday).  Her brother-in-law was at the home, but he hadn’t been a part of her life since her husband died in 1999.

This woman had been living with her now dead son and a granddaughter who may have been about thirteen years old.  No one else in her family had even visited her in years.  We found out that she didn’t expect much help from her family, as they “went wild” (as she put it) when she asked for assistance when her husband died.  She was adrift and had no one who could guide her through this loss.

A couple of people went into the house to collect the body.  They wrapped him in a wool blanket and carried him into the back of the vehicle.  For reasons I can’t explain, because I don’t know the reason, about five people went with us for the ride to the mortuary.  I can only guess that it was to support the mother in her time of grief.  This is something that I have heard about, and seen from a distance.

Once we got to our destination, and were finally allowed in, a metal gurney was wheeled up to the back of the truck, and a couple of attendants removed the body.  The son was then taken into the main room of the mortuary.  We looked on from the outside, as they removed the blanket with as little grace and dignity as possible. The blanket was thrown to the entrance of the building.  When asked if she wanted it back, the mother shook her head no and flung her hand at it as if to say “Just get rid of it.”

I found out later, that standing on the threshold of the door, was the limit of where I wanted to be in the mortuary.  Once you entered into the main room, behind a curtain was a stack of bodies that were either waiting to be collected, or were not going to be collected.  Because they were not afforded the special treatment of the coolers, they were in various “states” and numbered over one hundred.  It has been a busy time at the Kitale District Hospital’s mortuary.

Once everything was settled, and we were back in the vehicle to take everyone home, the woman fell asleep.  Emotionally and I am sure physically exhausted from everything her day and previous night entailed.  We dropped everyone off, and wished the woman well and went home ourselves.

I cannot imagine the pain that this woman is experiencing.  I cannot fathom the loneliness of having to handle something of this magnitude alone.  The only good thing that is coming from this is that the community around this woman is gathering to be at her side.  Her church is helping her with some expenses, as are her neighbours and co-workers.  What is her family’s contribution?  They will cover the cost of the suit that her son will be buried in.

This is Kenya.  This is life.  This is death. This is another dose of reality.

Teardrops Today

Awhile ago a friend here in Kitale, had told me about this new song from Laura Story called Blessings. I thought it would be a good song to listen to but then I forgot all about it.

Until today.

One of my dear friends posted a bit of the song as her Facebook status this morning and then I remembered the song.  So I found it on itunes and downloaded it and listened to it for the first time today.

Lots of teardrops fell.

I’m having a difficult time right now; there are different reasons for it this season.  There have been so many things and changes going on in such a short period of time that sometimes I feel like I’m suffocating. I feel like I haven’t been able to catch my breath in a long while.

There’s a deep passion/longing in me that is so strong that sometimes I think that it too is suffocating me.  It’s like I can’t get past it to see the bigger picture of who I am and what I am to do.

So why the song?

Maybe my eyes, ears and heart aren’t focused on the right things.  Maybe I need to hear what my Father is saying to me when I cry or all those nights when I can’t sleep.  Maybe I need to just sit, rest and breathe.

I need to be more able and willing to hear when He speaks because it’s like the song says,

What if Your blessings come through raindrops

What if Your healing comes through tears

What if a thousand sleepless nights

Are what it takes to know You’re near

And what if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

So I’ll try to soak up the raindrops, the tears, the sleepless nights and the trials if it means being closer to You.

Meredith

Count 'Em: 106 & 107

So I haven’t updated. We’re busy; very busy. When you have 107 children (yes we gained two since I last updated), sleep, time and life seems to slip away.

Our number 106 child is Esther. She’s beautiful. She’s spunky. She’s malnourished. She’s HIV+. She’s suffered from untreated TB. She’s been raised by her eight year old brother, Philip.

Do I have your attention now?

On October 25^th, Carla received a phone call from the children’s department asking them to take Esther.  When Carla brought her home, we were shocked that she was 2.5 years old. A 2.5 year old girl in a nine month old body. A nine month old body with a mouth full of beautiful straight white teeth.

In November of 2010, Esther’s mother died of AIDS. It became the responsibility of her then eight year old brother to take care of his then 1.5 year old sister. Philip stayed at the hospital alongside with his mother until she passed away. He then walked miles and miles to his grandmother’s house, with Esther on his back, to tell her that her daughter had died and to hope that Esther and he could live with her. The grandmother let them stay there, for a little while, but didn’t take care of them. Philip began going to the streets, with Esther on his back, begging for food.

Both of them were starving. Philip wasn’t in school and Esther wasn’t growing; the symptoms of HIV and not getting a balanced diet were winning over her.

A concerned person who saw these children in their village contacted the children’s department asking them to rescue these two children.

And they were rescued.

Philip is with a ministry called Mattaw Children’s Village (www.mattawchildren.com), which was started by very dear friends of Sean and mine. Their names are Bud & Kimberly Huffman. 

Esther is with us at In Step (www.rehemainstep.com).  Our goal is to eventually reunite the siblings, as in living together, after we can build up Esther’s health, strength and immune system.

Here are some pictures of them:

Esther - shortly after we got her.

Esther & Philip together for the first time since separated. 

Esther & Philip together a few weeks ago.

Our number 107 child, Michelle 3 (we nicknamed her 3 because she is the third Michelle we have).  She is three years old.

I had stopped off at the children’s department on November 21^st to discuss a few things with them and there was this little girl in the office crying. I noticed she had on a pair of silver, little girl high heel shoes. She had her ears pierced by only one earring in an ear.

The children’s officer tried to get her to great “the white woman” but the little girl was scared of me.

A little while later (and my third trip to the children’s office the same day), this little girl had warmed up to me. She greeted me; she smiled at me and she even let me give her a hug.

Then the children’s officer asked me if In Step would take her for some time.  Apparently she got lost from her parents in an area of Kitale called Showground.  Whether she was separated from her parents by accident and they couldn’t find each other or whether they separated from her on purpose, is unknown.

Michelle, at the age of three, walked the streets of Kitale and ended up walking to an area called Tuwaini, which would be about 3-4 kilometers from where she was lost.  Finally someone there, a matatu (public service vehicle here) driver noticed this little girl walking around the streets by herself and he took her in to his home. For several days, he would take her into town with him, putting the word out that there was a little girl who had been separated from her parents, hoping her parents were looking for her too. No one ever came.

So the driver took her to the police station, who then took her to the children’s department, who then asked In Step to take her in.

Sean and Terry were waiting in the truck for me as I’m doing my last run for the day in the children’s office. I came running out of their office, opened up the door and said, “So, we have number 107 coming home with us today!”

What’s one more?!?!

I got in the truck and the children’s officer brought over Michelle and as soon as she realized that she was being put into a vehicle with three strangers and let that be three WHITE strangers, she began to scream.

I suddenly remembered that Terry had bought us popcorn from the grocery store and, with her in my lap, I grabbed a small bag of it and asked her in Swahili if she wanted it. She went from screaming to stopping (in less than half a second) and did a small grunt to answer that she indeed wanted the popcorn. I ripped it open for her, she leaned back against me and got comfortable and gobbled up the popcorn. And then 10 minutes later, she crawled over to Sean, who was sitting in the middle, curled up on his lap and fell asleep for the remainder of the ride back out to In Step.

Michelle, like Esther, is spunky. She will tell you what she likes and doesn’t like. If you do something wrong, she will give you a dirty look. She has no problem tattling on the other kids when they’ve teased her or someone else around. She even tried to get an Auntie in trouble because she didn’t want to do what the Auntie wanted her to.

The first few days were difficult for her; she said she wanted to go home and be with her mom.  We’ve got a picture out and hopefully the children’s department will be able to have the parents located. I really hope they are parents who want to be found and who didn’t really lose this beautiful little girl on purpose.

Here’s a picture of Michelle 3.

A week after being at In Step

If you are in the US and would like to sponsor one of these two girls or any of our other children, please go to www.rehemainstep.com.

We now have the sponsorship program available in Canada too!  We’re so excited about this. If you are in Canada and would like to sponsor an In Step child, please email us at: instepcanada@gmail.com for further details.  

Much Love,

Meredith