In Kenya, burns are a scary injury to have because the medical facilities that are available are not high quality and the risk of infection here is great.

About 3 weeks ago, I cut the tip side of my index finger off while I was using a paper-cutter. Yes, that is duct tape and gauze (Hi, Mom!). 

My husband is about to chain me to the porch so the only thing I have access to is a magazine and a chair.  He says this is enough for the year.

I kinda agree.

Recently, a newborn baby was brought into the care of Rehema In-Step Baby Home.  Baby Bonnie was being assessed while our Jua group was meeting for Bible Study.  They had seen many horrific things but had never experienced seeing a 4 pound, newborn rescued from a pit latrine.

Our family has battled various illnesses and injuries here, escaped close calls in traffic and has seen many various needs in town.

My point is, before we moved to Kenya, we had a lot of questions about the safety of moving here.  What if we are robbed, what if we get hurt or need surgery, what if our car breaks down in the bush…. etc. 

Things happen here, yes.  However, I am beginning to understand more of why these things happen.  All of these things are opportunities for God to show His goodness to us.

I’m thankful to serve a God that doesn’t force us to love Him.  I’m thankful that even in the really horrible things that happen to us or that we see here, we can take comfort in knowing He is right along side us, extending His hand to help us in hard times. 

In the stories I shared above, when the pressure cooker exploded, Alayna was standing at my feet, and Daniel and Priscillah were just a few feet away.  I was the ONLY one who was touched by scalding water and potatoes.  God protected Alayna, Daniel and Priscillah from being burned.  I also had no pain.  I had first and second degree burns covering my scalp, forehead, eyelids, under my eyes, and cheeks, as well as my right shoulder and arm and both forearms.  The scars that have been left behind on my body serve as an awesome reminder of God’s goodness to us.  Though they may be considered ugly now to people, they give me a chance to share of the miracle of God’s protection over us that day.  My eyes were protected from any harm, along with the precious people in the kitchen with me that day.

My finger, though a bit disfigured now, had no nerve damage and I seem to still have a good fingerprint  

Baby Bonnie is safely being snuggled in arms that love her oh-so-much and will grow knowing about the value her life has alongside her brothers and sisters.  She doesn’t know it yet, but her rescue impacted the lives of the mamas we work with so deeply that they are taking part of their savings from the beads they are making to help children in Kitale just like Bonnie.

We are all healthy.

There is so much to be thankful here and I know that no matter what, God IS in the tough stuff if we allow Him to be.

Holidays here in Kenya are much different that what we have become used to in the USA. It has been challenging for me, personally, to reflect on why I celebrate most of the holidays I do.  Do I really soak in the real meanings?  Do I allow the commercialism to consume me?  I’d love to say that I have been immersed in the real reasons for the holidays we recognize in the USA, however, living here has done a lot of heart-work on me.

I need to go deeper.

I love the fun costumes, the turkeys, to tinsel and tree, I love the glitter and the roses and the egg decorating.  However, living here has challenged me to my core how to involve many of you who read Mangomama from other countries, who want to help but cannot move to Kenya.

The season of Lent is upon us.  TJ’s Catholic roots have us celebrating Ash Wednesday,February 22nd, as the beginning of this Lenton season.  I want to challenge you to not only give something up this Lenton season, but GIVE SOMETHING BACK.

Groceries, a blanket, a hug, a listening ear, a cup of coffee, dinner, watching another mama’s children, supporting an orphan or widow across the globe are all things we can do to make a difference.

The smallest things we can give make the greatest of impact here in Kenya.  There are a lot of moms who love their children, but cannot provide for them.

I know in Maximilla’s life, your “be the change” gifts saved her life, her sister’s life, and gave her mom a fresh start free of violence and abuse.  Her family has three meals a day, a home with their mom, clothing and are able to go to school.

It’s real.

Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.  Perhaps you own a business, or have the gift of crafting or sewing, or the gift of inspiring others to help little lives in Africa or across the world.

I want to ask you if you would use your gift, your business, your voice to help be the change here in Kitale, Kenya?
During this season of Lent, would you take a portion of what you earn and give it back to the Jua Project to help us empower these beautiful moms in Kenya so they do not have to depend on begging or picking trash as a means of survival?

I will have at least 6 spaces available on the homepage of Mangomama for you to advertise your business, your name, your talent …. that you can have for free through May 1.  If you are interested in more details about this, please email me at tlkenya@yahoo.com or leave a comment on this post.

Let’s be real. Let’s get serious about being a part of the change in families’ lives here in Kitale.  Let’s get real about not just giving something up this Lenton season, but let’s give something back!

Before our family left for Kenya, we were sent out by our church with a blessing to be “lighthouses”.  Coincidence?  NO WAY!

In our short time here in Kitale, we have found some pretty amazing Kenyan lighthouses
who are broken and weary but have a passion, a light, JUA to live a better life.  Let me introduce you to our lighthouses.  These women are broken, imperfect people, just like me.  They know they are dirty and do not pretend to be perfect or hide their shortcomings.  They are beautiful reminders of redemption and healing and hope that we can only have by knowing God.  I know deep in my heart that they are LIGHTHOUSES for the community of Kitale and each week they push the envelope to show more forgiveness, heal from their pasts and look forward with hope of a better life.

Instead of rocking newborn abandoned babies, we found our arms full of children who were so severely malnourished because of several reasons and mamas who were in extreme need.  All the children we found had the common denominator of extreme poverty and parents who loved them but could not provide for them.

We are now fully emersed in new adventures here in Kitale that we are excited to share with you about.

TJ has taken on a new position with an organization just outside of Kitale called Ambassadors for Sustained Health.  He is working as the new In-Country Research Director helping their clinic become more sustainable and user-friendly to the 4 villages they serve.  TJ is kept extremely busy with this and is excited to be a part of it.

The next part will take a bit of explaining, so I will start like this:

November 19th, I was singing my daughter to sleep with the song “You Are My Sunshine”.  It is a song that we have sung to our children since they were babies.  In fact, I have found Collin singing the song to babies at a baby home that we have visited a time or two since moving here.  It is a song that has brought comfort to owies and lulled them to sleep.

This particular day I was wrestling so hard with God about why He had brought us to Kenya.  I was singing to her and I really felt like God gave me a gift.  Sunshine.  “Lindsay, I am the Light of the World”.  I remember feeling in the depths of my spirit.  I had been to Kipsongo many times and each time it became clear to me the darkness that was present there.  I remember feeling the internal fire in me that wanted to bust out and somehow give these moms hope.

Sunshine —-> Hope —–> Being Light in the Darknesss

I was chatting with a good friend of mine while this vision was blooming and she had asked what the Swahili word for Sunshine was. 

“Jua”, I said.

“Lindsay, go be Jua to the people I love so much,” I heard the Lord say during this conversation.

“Me?  Sobbing, broken, weak, little me?  I could hardly get out of bed each day…and you are asking me to bring HOPE to a very dark world here in Kitale?”

“Trust me, Lindsay.  All things are possible.”

So, let me fast forward a very long, miraculous story and introduce you to our new project we are working on here in Kitale called the Jua Project.

The Jua Project focuses on empowering women who live in the slum areas by helping them obtain vocational skills to support their family.  It also will assit in providing medical care to orphaned children.  We are starting here in Kitale with Priscillah taking the lead by facilitating two groups per week.  One for Bible Study and one for vocational skills and business training. 

We have partnerships with organizations back in the USA and in Kenya here to help launch Jua to be the best it can be.  With God ALL things are possible.  In the coming week, we will be launching our new website and show you ways that you can be involved.

We are so excited of the vision we feel God has given us.  We are moving forward with hope and joy.

Tomorrow, I will introduce you to the 5 mamas we have been working with for several weeks now, our first group of women of Jua Project.  They are beautiful, hard working, broken people just like us. 

Stay tuned!

Together with a local children’s home, we partnered together and helped reconstruct Sellina’s home. This is not like a typical construction site.  It was dangerous.  Prisicllah went the day before to negotiate all the prices of the materials.  She was able to get what she needed fairly easily.  She arrived in Kipsongo the next day very early in the morning with the secondary school boys who volunteered to help us with this construction project.  All day, Priscillah had to stand by the building materials and tools as the boys worked because if she walked away, the materials would be stolen.  In fact, we witnessed people pretending to be workers and walking off the worksite with big timbers and logs like the ones you see in the photos below.

Homes in Kipsongo are made of timber, mud and cow dung.  Garbage bags are the other option.  They get worn down quickly if not kept up.  Sellina has not had the funding to keep her house in order.  The day before, we met with her and learned that she had already used money intended for food for a couple of bundles of long sticks for her home.  Cost: $3.  She did not eat so she could fix her home.  Poverty I still have trouble wrapping my mind around.

The house was successfully constructed in one day’s time.  The 3 boys that were only 17 yrs old worked tirelessly all day in the 85 degree heat and did not complain once.  What an example to the corruption around them they were.

Sellina is so very grateful that we were able to assit her in finishing her home.  Total cost for everything was about $75.  That was an unachievable amount for Sellina.  She is grateful for those of you who helped give towards this project.  She says she feels more secure now than when she was having to live with friends and is grateful for strangers who love her a world away.  Tabitha (right) is back living with Sellina now.  Tabitha continues to be a healthy little girl and Sellina works hard to provide for her family in ways that she can.  Maximilla (left) remains in our home, for now.  She has a long road of recovery ahead of her, but each day we see a new bloom of personality open up. 

A first for me this week:  buying a live chicken to have as a pet.  Her name is Miss Satin Bean Dip and she is sassier than my daughter.  I have learned that I couldn’t just bring a chicken home and plop it in my yard.  I needed to buy feed, saw dust (OF ALL THINGS) and keep her housed if I was to expect any kind of an egg.

Well, I have done all these things and the diva still hasn’t produced anything.  In fact, she has escaped twice, pecked at Collin, and struts around as if I need to buy her a collar made of diamonds before she will lay me a golden egg.

When I bought her, the man tied her feet together and hung her around my wrist.  She was content as a unicorn on a rainbow and we took her home, dangling, on a motorcycle.

Mercy.  Oh, and don’t worry mom, that’s not my sweater, or my hand.

Another first:  we are all being dewormed this weekend, people.  Ahem.  This should be interesting.  The box says to expect every symptom under the sun.  Glorious.

In our house right now, we have an issue with poo (hence the deworming this weekend).  The littles in our home are so small, yet they seem to produce such a massive smell, I can hardly stand to be in my house sometimes.  Our new rule is, if one of the littles is about to drop a bomb, they are to yell “BOMB DIGGITY” so we can wave the lavendar in the air.
Maximilla sounds like one of the chipmunks, so you can imagine her little voice at midnight, when she is awakened by the urge to go and all of a sudden we are jolted out of bed because she yells “BOMB DIGGITY!!!!”

This week, we have rapped throughout UNO games as Ben is inspired by Toby Mac and raps E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G while waving his arms in ways that makes him look like he is having seizures (am I THAT old!?!?), and we have dance parties after dinner where I am convinced ANY African can find the beat to ANY Marvin Gaye or Al Green song.

The whole point is, laughter is essential to survive here.  Someone told me a long time ago that one day I would wake up and wonder “when did this become normal??”.  I have reached that point.  There are situations and circumstances that happen here that you wouldn’t believe we go through if we told you.  We could choose to be frustrated and angry or we could find a good laugh to survive through it.

To end this, I will leave you with this photo.  Going on Pinterest was torture when we first moved here because it felt like everything I wanted to make was so far out of reach.  Now, I know I just go on there to admire things and will never really make anything.  I.just.pin.

I am the eighth-born of nine children in my family. I am 24 years old. I am not sure my exact birthday because my mother did not know what exact day she gave birth to me. I grew up in Kibera slums in Nairobi, Kenya. My father used to work as an overnight guard at an Orthodox church and by day he drank alcohol and was always drunk. When he came home he would fight with my mother. My mom was always at home with us but struggled to care for us because she was always sick.

In Kibera, my home was about 10 feet by 8 feet big. The iron sheets that were used as a roof leaked when it rained so we would stuff plastic bags in the holes to keep it from dripping on us during the rainy season. We cooked over an open coal stove inside the house called a jiko. I remember being sick a lot with cough because of the cold and the ashes of the coal. All of us lived in there. My dad would cut paint cans in half, flatten them, and cover it with empty potato sacks and plastic bags for us to sleep on because he did not want us to sleep on the mud floor. We would change into rags to sleep in to try to keep our day clothes nicer. My mom’s bed was made of four plastic jerry cans, one for each corner and then we would lay a board on top of them and we would sleep on top of the board. Often times our beds were infested with bedbugs.

I started begging for food and money outside of my home when I was six years old.  My home was not a safe place for me to stay for many reasons.  Nobody was taking care of me and I was so hungry.  I started going from door to door in a wealthy neighborhood nearby.  When I was given food, I would save some and bring home to my family for them to eat.  I did this kind of begging for about 1 year.

I went to the streets of Nairobi begging for money and sniffing glue and using other drugs called bang (marijuana) and local alcohol when I was 7 years old.  I used glue and drugs because it helped me forget where I came from.  They also helped me forget about the conditions of the street.  When I would sleep on the street it was very cold.  The alcohol cost about 10 schillings and it helped me stay warm.  My parents never looked for me when I didn’t come at night.  The same is for today.  My parents do not know where I am and my mom has trouble remembering who I am when I visit her.

To get food, we would go and eat at hotels (restaurants) and we would dig in the garbage pits that were open behind the buildings and eat the leftovers that people would throw away.  Sometimes food we would collect would have phlegm and saliva on them so we would take the food and put in tins and boil it to try to clean it.

When I lived on the street, it gave me very low self esteem.  I lived a life where I didn’t care what would happen to me.  When I begged and dug in the rubbish, I felt like I belonged to the street.  When I would go back to my home in Kibera, I felt like there was no God who loved me.

There were big boys that lived on the street that would harass me and my friends.  There were also many men that would drive in their cars and look for street girls and they wanted to abuse us or ask us to hold their private parts and then would give us money.   I didn’t have a mother who could protect me and bring me up to show and teach me that these things were wrong.  Even in my heart I knew they were wrong.

There were the big boys on the street that would bully the younger kids on the street.  Some days I would receive much money and food.  God has protected me on the street because I never lacked.  At the end of the day, I would find a street kid who lacked for the day-who did not get anything to eat or money that day.  I would give half of the money or food I received that day to that kid.  The big boys left me alone because they knew me as a street girl that shared much with others.

Some nights I would sleep in booths in the market where they sell clothes.  We would move to different booths each night because there were men with canes that would come and beat us if they found us sleeping in those places.  One night I remember there was a big man who chased me through the streets all night because he wanted sex from me.  I was not able to sleep until the next night because I feared him so much.  To this day I have nightmares about trying to escape him.

At times, I would go back to my home in Kibera to check in.   My mom would not know who I was because of her illness.  She would easily get lost, even today she easily becomes lost.  Some of the money I would get from begging I would buy shoes for her and other things.  I love her very much.

 To feel that hungry you feel like you want to die.  I told God that He was not for real if He allowed me to go through such suffering.

**********************

From Lindsay:

This is the first of many posts from Priscillah.  Her story is unique to her, but undoubtedly so common to hear in many others who live here.  I hope these posts from her encourge you where you are at in your faith and rejoice with us in her story containing so much hope and redemption.

Milla and Tabi enter our home, shaking from malnutrition and dehydration, coughing horribly, and wondering where they are.  We sit them down at our dining room table and they drink some water and look at us, seeing that we were familiar but unsure of what is next.

Weighing them showed they were each at 22 pounds.  Skin and bones and distended bellies, Milla was by far in worse condition.  At ages 6 and almost 4, they were so small for their ages, I wondered how on earth they had survived this long.  The stench from them could be smelled from across our home.  They could barely walk and easily fell down if they became unbalanced. 

Priscilla bathed the girls and started treating their jiggers.  Jiggers are so painful to remove, leaving gaping holes in their feet, but we found that soaking their feet in hydrogen peroxide and water twice a day painlessly killed them.  Praise God.

We took them to the hospital and we were thankful to see clear chest x-rays and confirm that they did not have TB or pneumonia.  The coughing that kept them up at night was a result of exposure to toxins given off by the indoor charcoal stove their mom would cook with when she had food. 

It’s been almost 2 weeks now, and what a noticeable difference it has been. Both have gained well over 1 kg and seem to be thriving.  We have watched them transform into to happy, giddy, twirling, energetic, little girls.  We keep their routine simple at home and the same every day. They eat very traditionally because the plan is for them to return to their mom, in about a month.  They play with babydolls, and help wash their little clothes and color inside coloring books filled with Bible stories that open conversations about Jesus and how BIG He really is.  We spend time holding them, whispering how much they are loved in their little ears and have them visit their mom twice a week to ensure they are staying connected.

I have prayed my heart out for these two little lives.  I sing “This Little Light of Mine” to them daily and they are starting to catch the tune.  I see them as being little lights in their home.  A story of redemption and healing.  Their mother loves them, but struggles in caring for them and providing food for them because she has nothing.  Nothing.  I do not know the feeling of not having the ability to feed my children.

Today, I have the pitter patter of 12 feet come running down the hall in the morning.  6 cups to fill with chai or uji for breakfast.  God truly has given us the strength to meet all the needs of our children and the ones we are fostering, for now.  Our children have been amazing in welcoming them into our home, sharing their toys and eating more African food than they probably care to.  They have never complained and we are praising God for this provision.

Milla and Tabi are very opposite in personalities and it has been fun seeing that develop the past couple of weeks.  Both need a lot of supervision and it has been a process of teaching them skills they have not learned, or practiced, due to lack of supervision and the conditions of Kipsongo.  I’m thankful they are potty trained and I’ve only had to tell them 1 million times to only flush the toilet once.  It’s almost guaranteed that if we cannot find Tabi, she is standing over the toilet, watching it flush or climbing trees in the backyard with the boys.  Milla is usually found grooming baby dolls and trying on all of my daughter’s clothing, shoes and accessories.  Yes, divas know no culture.

This experience has grown us in ways we never knew we could.  God is doing something in Kipsongo and we are very excited in the days ahead to share with you what God has laid on our hearts.

When I go into Kipsongo now, the layers of what life is there peels itself away.  I am no  longer shocked by the men sleeping on mats, the homes made of garbage bags, or the phrases yelled out to us by people who assume we are there to give handouts.  What shocks me now is seeing the same baby day after day walking around naked, unsupervised, tripping and falling into the sewage stream.  What shocks me is seeing the little toes of the children who live there being eaten alive by jiggers.  What shocks me is hearing the cries of a woman being raped by a man and nobody seems to care, or be willing to do anything about it.  The oppression and dominance that men have here is appauling.  Women are beaten for any reason at all and do not have a voice.

This particular day, Priscilla and I are meeting with Selina.  Selina is the mom to Tabitha and Maximilla.  She is telling us that the walls on her house are caving in.  We have heard this before and today the sight of her home made me sick.  Her and the babies that stay with her at night are completely exposed to the outside due to large, gaping holes in two of the four walls.  Selina asks me twice for food.  She has never asked me for anything in the 3 months I have known her, but this day, she asked me twice.  Her gait was extremely unstable and we noticed Maximilla and Tabitha had very low energy, which was unlike them.

I went home that night and could not sleep.  The images and sounds of that day haunted me and I was up much of the night asking God why He had brought us here, as we were just 2 people and the needs in Kipsongo were so great.  I woke up with Psalms 34 on my heart.  God poured into my soul that I was not here to save everyone.  God hears my cries and answers them.  I know God knows our hearts here and He knows the need.  I’m expecting miracles

The next day I spoke with Priscilla about how we can help this family.  I certainly didn’t want to become the next white person who walks into Kipsongo and starts giving handouts.  Priscilla stated “well, the thing to do is bring them into our home and get these girls healthy again”.  Of course she said that.  In my mind, I was thinking about our household already, with our crazy kids, Priscilla and Daniel already here AND we had just moved into our home and had barely finished unpacking.  No way was I ready or prepared to take on two malnurished children with unknown health needs.

As it turned out, we had a family meeting and discussed the rules and boundaries this situation would require.  When we all agreed we wanted to help this family, Priscilla trotted to Kipsongo that day to speak to Selina about helping her with her children.  Selina was so relieved and stated that she and the girls had not had a bite to eat for 2 days.  Priscilla returned a few hours later with 2 little girls, scared out of their minds.

Their house, that day, had completely collapsed.

More to come….