“How can people NOT care or want to help kids like this?! Brian told us the story about a man who was throwing dying starfish back into the ocean, one by one, from a beach covered by hundreds. Someone came up to the man and told him it was a pointless effort because there was too many; what he was doing wasn’t going to matter. The man threw another starfish in the water and said, ‘It mattered to that one.’”
We left Mathare Valley almost silently. I looked down remorsefully at my egg and peanut butter sandwich (it wasn’t bad, I promise) that the Watakatifu kitchen packed for us. My teammates and I saw the desperation but we were journeying to see the hope that God brings. Pastor Karau and his wife, along with Brian and Debbie, started a home for children from the slums. The orphans are recued and literally brought into the Karau family to be cared for as their own children, educated, loved, and brought up as children of God – a stark contrast to their previous life in the slums. It is called Sanctuary of Hope (SoH) and it has grown into two houses full of “starfish” as Brian told us. The first house was our next stop where we were again welcomed by Pastor and Mama Karau followed by introductions and a tour of the different rooms. The children were at school, so we all sat, ate chapatti and soda, and listened to Pastor and Mama as they shared about their ministry. I could tell that God had a hand in this ministry as my ears heard the stories of some of the children. Sammy’s mother got him drunk as an infant so that he would be quiet, and Esther (the most recent child) was so malnourished that she could not walk or talk so that her 6 year old body appeared to be that of a 2 year old. Those are only two of the stories surrounding the houses of SoH that brought my eyes to water again and would continue to threaten me with an ugly cry. The second house was next on our schedule where we got to meet and play with the kids after they sang and recited for us. I held back more tears – I was having a very emotional day in case you haven’t noticed.
I caught a glimpse of Esther and Sammy was pointed out to us when he came to greet us. Sammy is now 9 and delivers an enthusiastically awesome rap. Esther immediately caught my eye. She was standing in front of the others while they sang songs just staring at the group of big, white people not participating in the song. Small Esther was walking, talking a bit, and smiling with sparkles in her eyes as Pastor Karau held her and told her that she is loved while the other kids quickly dispersed. I was able to hold her for a while after she got passed around the group. Her little hands cupped my face and her curious eyes studied every part of the green eyes, red rimmed from holding buckets of tears back. She was beautiful; this little starfish. I wanted all the love I could give to transfer from my heart to hers. That desire was strong, and joy filled me when she laughed. My mind traveled to the future and wondered what it had for this blessing – I know God will use her life in big ways. We walked around the yard as she pointed in the directions she wanted to go. After a while, we left and I let the little miracle run back to her papa as our team bid the house goodbye with promises to come back again.
During the hour ride back to the Senta, most of us in the bus were falling asleep from the emotional and physical “exercise” of the day. Dinner was fine as I discussed some of my feelings of the day with a staff member who I connected with, and then Nams, the FOCUS (Kenya equivalent to InterVarsity) staff who was with us for most of our time there, joined me during chai. He looked at me as he casually asked me how I was doing. Again (it was getting on my nerves at this point), my lip started blubbering and it became very hard to talk without balling into ugly, uncontrollable sobs as I shared with him my feelings/thoughts. Nams gently shared what his experience was when he first went to the slums. It was interesting to me that many of the Kenyans in Nairobi have not set foot in a slum even when they live near some of the biggest in the world. “It is not a hopeless place,” he said regarding Mathare Valley. “The hope is in the children. God is working” Still blubbering, I replied as best I could, thanked him, and went to my room. This was probably the first of intensely emotional days while I was in Kenya.
To close, I do have a slightly humorous story:
I met my wonderful friend and teammate as I walked back to the dorms. She stopped me and asked, “Missy, I have a question. What is the definition of ‘intonation’?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, that ugly, blubbering, loud, messy bucket of tears overflowed, and my friend looked a little stunned before she pulled me into a loving hug. My burst also made me laugh. It’s a difficult scene to describe. This is the second time in my life that something like that has happened. The first time was at the end of Marley & Me when the dog dies (sorry to spoil the ending, but every dog movie ends like that) and my mom and I burst out with a loud, unison heave followed by laughter as my dad and brothers look on with confusion.
Laughter also followed as my friend and I ended our hug so I could answer her initial question. “I didn’t think that was a question that would offend you!” Sometimes you need to explode after a trying day – and sometimes being used as a dictionary can be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.
The exhaustion was overwhelming as we all went to bed thinking, dwelling, and questioning God’s goodness in this world. We all experienced physical and spiritual poverty, but also hope that day.
During the hour ride back to the Senta, most of us in the bus were falling asleep from the emotional and physical “exercise” of the day. Dinner was fine as I discussed some of my feelings of the day with a staff member who I connected with, and then Nams, the FOCUS (Kenya equivalent to InterVarsity) staff who was with us for most of our time there, joined me during chai. He looked at me as he casually asked me how I was doing. Again (it was getting on my nerves at this point), my lip started blubbering and it became very hard to talk without balling into ugly, uncontrollable sobs as I shared with him my feelings/thoughts. Nams gently shared what his experience was when he first went to the slums. It was interesting to me that many of the Kenyans in Nairobi have not set foot in a slum even when they live near some of the biggest in the world. “It is not a hopeless place,” he said regarding Mathare Valley. “The hope is in the children. God is working” Still blubbering, I replied as best I could, thanked him, and went to my room. This was probably the first of intensely emotional days while I was in Kenya.
To close, I do have a slightly humorous story:
I met my wonderful friend and teammate as I walked back to the dorms. She stopped me and asked, “Missy, I have a question. What is the definition of ‘intonation’?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, that ugly, blubbering, loud, messy bucket of tears overflowed, and my friend looked a little stunned before she pulled me into a loving hug. My burst also made me laugh. It’s a difficult scene to describe. This is the second time in my life that something like that has happened. The first time was at the end of Marley & Me when the dog dies (sorry to spoil the ending, but every dog movie ends like that) and my mom and I burst out with a loud, unison heave followed by laughter as my dad and brothers look on with confusion.
Laughter also followed as my friend and I ended our hug so I could answer her initial question. “I didn’t think that was a question that would offend you!” Sometimes you need to explode after a trying day – and sometimes being used as a dictionary can be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.
The exhaustion was overwhelming as we all went to bed thinking, dwelling, and questioning God’s goodness in this world. We all experienced physical and spiritual poverty, but also hope that day.
Hard Times by Stephen Foster
Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears,
While we all sup sorrow with the poor;
There's a song that will linger forever in our ears;
Oh hard times come again no more.
While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay,
There are frail forms fainting at the door;
Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say
Oh hard times come again no more.
There's a pale drooping maiden who toils her life away,
With a worn heart whose better days are o'er:
Though her voice would be merry, 'tis sighing all the day,
Oh hard times come again no more.
While we all sup sorrow with the poor;
There's a song that will linger forever in our ears;
Oh hard times come again no more.
While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay,
There are frail forms fainting at the door;
Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say
Oh hard times come again no more.
There's a pale drooping maiden who toils her life away,
With a worn heart whose better days are o'er:
Though her voice would be merry, 'tis sighing all the day,
Oh hard times come again no more.
Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave,
Tis a wail that is heard upon the shore
Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave
Oh hard times come again no more.
Tis a wail that is heard upon the shore
Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave
Oh hard times come again no more.
Chorus:
Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,
Hard Times, hard times, come again no more
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door;
Oh hard times come again no more.
The Starfish Story
Link to Sanctuary of Hope website:
http://www.pambatoto.com/sanctuary-of-hope.html
http://www.pambatoto.com/sanctuary-of-hope.html
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