All Saints Day
Looking back to September, I am recording from my paper and
leather journal today. We are
transcribing from earthy stories to internet stories, perhaps adding small
glosses, but striving for authentic interpretation of this amazing life in
Africa.
(9/15)
Yesterday we ventured out to Narok town to visit some
friends where I lived in 2003 and 2004.
Tim Mantai drove out to Tenwek to pick us up in his car. It is a 1 hour drive, then he took us 1
hour back to his house. He told us that we can use his vehicle any time we want
to, any distance to drive is not too far.
We ate lunch with Tim and Lorna and felt so welcomed and refreshed by
their friendship and hospitality to us.
Then we met Edith in town.
She had been waiting for us there all day in the hot dust-bowl town
without a drop to drink. She just
was happy to spend some time with us and helped us navigate around town a bit.
Josiah got a real Masai bow from an old old man with long
stretched earlobes, selling on the side of the dusty dusty road. The arrows in the quiver were real
hunting arrows, designed to lodge and kill. We only bought the bow.
Then, we went to find Wambugu’s house. He was my car mechanic before. His family wanted us to have dinner
with them. We were so tired and ready
to go home by then but I knew that in Kikuyu culture (and other tribes as well
but that is his tribe), one is required to feed visitors and to reject that
offer is a sincere insult. They
had been counting on us coming for some time. They had cooked cabbage, peas, chapattis (like a tortilla),
and goat stew and chai and bananas with cleaned and cut peelings. The bananas
that you buy in North America have been cleaned before you get them. Nothing that grows outdoors south of
the equator is naturally that sterile.
Their two girls who are named Karen and Katie were waiting for us all
day in beautiful little satin Kenyan princess dresses. I don’t know how they kept them clean
outside in their rocks and dust courtyard. They wanted to meet the white Katie and our kids. They were so kind and polite to total
strangers among them. Annie and
Josiah really enjoyed being there without even recognizing my inner impatience
with wanting to go home, they didn’t seem to mind at all. It took a few hours. I kept reminding myself what they told
us at Mission Training International “How flexible are you willing to be for
the sake of the Gospel”?
And the Gospel is more than a piece of information, a
statement or a point of view. It
is in relationship as we learn to LOVE AS GOD HAS LOVED. And we let go of self preservation, we
are free to have faith in the Resurrection of Jesus who will raise us with Him
in the End. If we have died with
Christ, what more can we loose? If
we are resurrected with Him, why do I still cling to my mortal flesh and
personal preferences? If I let go,
I find freedom in Christ to stay the long hours in uncomfortable places, to go
the long distance for reaching out in relationships.
But yesterday it was our Kenyan friends who were showing me the Gospel. They were the ones acting like the Kingdom of God more than
me.
Finally just after dusk Wambugu asked Tim if he could drive
us home using Tim’s car (remember 2 hour round trip). Of course Tim allowed it and would not accept any money for
fuel. Wambugu explained to us that
they have a phrase “Friendship has a
price”. In Kenya, people show
friendship with others by material and tangible sacrifice for the other
person. Solidarity. It’s a way they exhibit honor and the
other’s value in their heart. I
think that is a lot like the Gospel.
Now we come to October.
Last week, a beautiful sunshiney day in the low 70’s here on
the equator. Our kids did their
morning schooling and their afternoon playing with wild abandon. As usual, we have people stop by on
their way to the hospital to ask for funds.
Aside: Tenwek is a unique case of
mission hospital that is fully supported by patient fees. Now, that would exclude the missionary
salaries because we raise our own and basically volunteer to be here as
staff. But the Kenyan staff is
paid and the hospital run not by outsiders or grants or taxes, but patient
fees. It’s supposed to make the system “sustainable”, but it also makes it
complex when people are destitute and asked to pay their bills before they are
discharged. Each day they wait for
their family to have fund raisers for collecting their medical fees, the daily
rate of staying in a hospital bed piles up. Can you imagine paying cash on delivery when you go to have
a baby or appendectomy or meningitis treatment at your local hospital? But a physician cannot deny helping
someone who comes with an emergency.
So there is a needy patient fund to help cover some of these people.
Back to the sunny day. A mama and small child were there on
the back porch waiting for me so they could ask for her money for
medicine. The child was tiny but
her face seemed old. She could not
stand or sit on her own but leaned into her mother’s arms from her lap. They said she was 6 years old. She appeared to me to have something
like cerebral palsy. Her name is
Chelangat and her mouth didn’t function properly enough to keep from drooling a
little bit out of the corners. But
she had a smile that could light up like those florescent tube lights that
flicker wildly as they light up the dark (that’s what my kitchen light is
like).
Chelangat didn’t speak with her
voice to me, but boy did she speak to my heart that day. I asked her mama to have chai with us
before they went to the clinic for her appointment, but the mom wanted to be
there on time. So I gave them
something for buying medicine and then the mama heaved her up on her back and
tied her with clothe into the place she has been carried for these six years
now. They came back in the
afternoon with a receipt (because Westerners and agencies from the west rely
heavily on receipts for proof). I
gave them lunch and my house helper Peris got them some clothes from the
clothing bin that is used for local orphans. The mama and the little girl who could really smile. I was struck by how little support that
mom must have and how few resources they have available to help. They are hoping to get a wheel chair
soon (for limited use on roads that are never easy here), but for how long can
she carry a six year old? Tiny frame that she is, she still requires a constant
arm of support. So I brought a
living room arm chair to the kitchen that the girl might rest on it while the
mama ate with two free hands. She
fell asleep and peed in the chair.
Now which of these characters is the hero? Certainly not me, I’m just a bleeding heart. But I saw that mama in her unwavering
commitment to care and support a girl for her whole life though it cost her
everything. And I saw Jesus. She heaved her up on her back again and
tied her in place as they headed down the road. I am Chelangat.
We are weak but he is strong.
Have a blessed All Saint’s Day.
