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| March 31, 2001 Location: Oloitokitok – a small Masai village I once had a farm in Africa at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro... that sounds so romantic, but oh the trials and tribulations of life in Africa. This update is overdue because I decided at the last minute to stay with 50 girls at their home on a farm in Oloitokitok (LTK), a village swarming with Masai men dressed in bright red cloth, women draped with beads of every color and children who gape in wonder and curiosity at the “muzungu” (white people) who are traveling about their small African village. It is truly another world. Although the human beauty is evident here, the technological efficiency is much the opposite. Email here is not like it is at home with 24 hour DSL internet access without interruptions from faulty servers. My email (I don’t have internet) access is a 50/50 bet when I’m in the “big” city (Nairobi) and more of a 90/10 chance here in LTK... I’m not even sure if Mark or my parents know that I’m still here even though I sent them a message 3 days ago to let them know that I decided to stay here for an extra 11 days from my initial 2 day trip. So to make a long story longer, I decided to postpone sending my update in order to ensure that it would get to you. The last month has been packed between a week long visit to Ethiopia, Mark’s (my
fiancé) visit and now a trip to the village. The trip to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia was so
eye-opening considering that my mind has been fixated on the image of starving, bloated
children of the 1980’s famine with From touring their vocational training programs for poor youth, to spending a night on
the streets with prostitutes, I was ever in awe of the way that God has been faithful to
the poor through Hope Enterprises. The Ethiopians treated us like we were on their team.
They realized that their ministry One woman I met truly changed me. Her name is Rachel. She works with prostitutes. To be honest, I've never thought much about prostitution prior to my trip, other than thinking that it’s a bad, demoralizing practice for woman who have low self-esteem. Prostitution in Addis Ababa, as well as in Nairobi, is a booming industry for young girls, some as young as 12. From day to night, the street life changes dramatically. One night at 9pm, our driver picked us up from our hotel and drove us through the streets of Addis with Rachel and another social worker. As we slowly rolled through the streets, one by one girls and women with short shirts and revealing tops tried to seduce us in the car by pulling up their skirts higher and making sexual gestures, not knowing who we were, but wanting to find business for the night. Rachel knew all of them, at least recognized them. She spends 4 nights a week on the streets, building relationships with the girls, finding girls who are willing to be released from the bondage of prostitution, willing to be challenged. I learned that prostitution is addicting. It’s quick money, it’s consistent money and if even if you’re poor and without any skills, it’s a job you can get. Every so often we stopped when Rachel saw some girls who she wanted to talk to, or rather who she thought would want to talk with us. Our car pulled over, the back doors opened and Rachel jumped out to ask the girls to come into the car for tea and bread. A few girls at a time would get into the car, out of the cold and sat quietly as Rachel told them about the program that Hope has for prostitutes. I couldn't understand most of what Rachel was saying because they speak Amharic in Ethiopia, but Zenebe (a manager for Hope Enterprises) translated as much as he could. Some of the girls said they would come to the program , others said that they didn't see any other way other than the life they’re living. The problem with prostitution in Kenya and Ethiopia stems from poverty. It’s an industry that is damaging girls lives, it’s spreading STD’s and is killing too many girls emotionally, spiritually and physically. Satan has them captive in bondage, but Jesus has the power to break the chains they’re living in. It is possible for them to have the power to stand up against selling their body as an object. But they need help, they need to be shown the mercy of Jesus and the life He has to offer them. Rachel gave me hope. The truth is that 4 years ago, Rachel was one of the girls provoking men on the streets at night. You would NEVER know it, but because some people took the time to tell her about Jesus , she is changing the lives of other girls who would otherwise continue in the path of destruction. She loves Jesus and she knows of His transformational power, His love for people, his mercy for prostitutes. It shows in her tone of voice, even though I can’t understand the words she is speaking other than “Jesu.” In Matthew 4 Jesus meets an embarrassed, unloved woman at the well at the hottest time of the day. Instead of shunning her, Jesus lets her know of His love for her – all of her, not just the good parts. She is amazed by His knowledge and his acceptance and she can’t help but love Him back. At first I thought it would be impossible for me to relate with the woman on the street, selling their bodies for money. But God softened my judgmental heart and revealed the truth of sinfulness in my life. My life does not always reflect His love and grace. I turn from Him when He calls me to step out in His name. I am tempted to do things for my glory, not for His. My generosity has limits and I become selfish. Every day I have to fall at His feet in repentance because only He is worthy, only He is perfect, only He could die for my sins. Knowing who Jesus is has made all the difference. This year has been hard. I know ‘hard’ isn't the best word to use since I mean it in a good/bad way, but it will suffice. I have grown so much in all areas of my life... and have struggled simultaneously. Being alone in my journey here (although I have been blessed to have so many friends walk alongside me during different legs of the journey), not feeling competent in my job, feeling pulled by people from every direction, feeling responsible for so many children’s lives, working in very poor and dirty areas, frustrated with the corruption of the government, feeling the strain of our ministry’s financial struggles, and not being able to truly share my life here with Mark have all prompted me to rely on my faith. It’s not been easy to trust that God is always in control... I know it in my mind but sometimes convincing my heart to believe is different. God has been so faithful to me. Mark was able to visit me for 12 days in the middle of March. His time here was truly a glimpse into my year in Kenya. I have shared so much with him about my time through emails, letters, pictures and words... but for him to see this place, these children, my surroundings, all with his eyes made things so much more complete for us. In a way, it gave us closure. He saw my life, and I was able to share it with him. He didn't see lions and elephants , he didn't visit the Rift Valley, he didn't see Masai people... but he did teach the kids to play ‘Red Rover’ at Woodley, he talked to the street boys at Adam’s Arcade, he rode a matatu, he shopped in Uchumi, and he spent 3 days with his sponsor "son," 15-year-old Steven Dado. Mark has been sponsoring Steven since I came to Kenya last summer. They have an unusual sponsorship relationship because Steven has the opportunity to write Mark often because he can send his letter inside one of mine and Mark can write back when he writes me. Mark and Steven both felt like they knew each other – they shared stories about their families, they shared verses from the Bible, they prayed for each other... but they hadn't met. Two days after Mark arrived in Kenya, Steven was able to come home from his boarding school for a special visit. Mark was nervous and excited, he was acting as though he was about to meet someone famous. Steven is a very outspoken, energetic teenager. But, for the first few hours with Mark I thought he was practically mute. For the last 10 months, Steven has asked me a million questions about Mark and has been counting down the months until he was to meet him. I think Steven was in shock when he met Mark. But the shock didn't last long. After visiting the giraffe center and eating a hamburger, the words began to flow. Like me, Steven also longed to share his life in Kenya with Mark... to make it more real for him. For months he had told me “Sarah, when Mark comes, we will visit Eastleigh, my home.” His parent divorced and abandoned him when he was 11 or 12. His mom is often drunk and moves around a lot. Steven was hoping to find his brothers and possibly his mom that hot Sunday afternoon. We traveled outside of the city and began roaming through a slum area in Eastleigh. It became very apparent that this was Steven’s home. From all directions people began calling “Steven!”, “Dadoooooo!!” His eyes lit up and he smiled. He was known here and it had been months since he last visited home. I can relate with him, the longer I’m here, the more I appreciate home... being with people who know me, who have known me. He began asking his friends if they had seen his younger brother. Nobody had seen him for awhile. It was rumored that he moved to another area of town to search for food. His mother was nowhere to be found either. Someone in the neighborhood said that his aunt had died too. Nothing was turning out the way he hoped. Tears welled up in his eyes and he cried. One of my favorite images of Mark in Kenya was that afternoon when Mark walked up alongside Steven and wrapped his arm around him as they walked down the road while Steven cried. It pains me so much to think about children who have no one to comfort them, no mother to cry to, no father to encourage them. Mark and I know that we aren't Steven’s parents, but for that day – Mark was his big brother. A brother who loves him unconditionally and who tries to empathize with him despite their contrasting family backgrounds. Love is so much bigger than life circumstances, it is more powerful than situations, it just is. That afternoon they talked about Steven’s dreams of becoming a pastor of a church, of his desire to share God with everyone he meets. Mark was able to affirm him, to give him a boost of confidence to finish his schooling, to keep his eyes focused on the goal. The next day Steven had to return to school. He was dragging his feet, and once again the tears began pouring. This time it wasn't about his family, but it was about his big brother whom he didn't know when he would see again. Mark took Steven outside and they prayed. So often they had prayed for each other alone, but they prayed together for the first time. I don’t know what they told God, but Steven bawled and bawled and Mark stood strong until he had given Steven his final hug goodbye. My job this year has been about relationships. I have built relationships with many, many kids and I have been able to facilitate relationships between them and their sponsors. It’s been a privilege. Despite the fact that right now I am living in the bush, in a “hardship area” as they call it back in Nairobi. I have no water for bathing or washing clothes much less for drinking. There are 2 pregnant cows eating the coffee plants in the yard, a goat eating garbage, 2 dogs who scare all the neighbors (because they’re “normal sized” rather than mini dogs), chickens squawking, flies swarming and a bees nest in the roof. But it’s hard to really care about all the hardships here when there are 50 beautiful girls who want to be loved and who give love more freely than you would ever expect. We spend afternoons dancing, reading, playing Frisbee (thanks for leaving it, Mark!), and talking about issues that really matter to them. Last night, Willie (a female Dutch volunteer) and I gave a survey to the older girls about sexuality, adolescence and boys because Willie’s project during her three months here is to teach the girls about hygiene and sex education. It is such a fragile time in these girls lives. They are learning about becoming women, they are discovering their individuality, they are making their own choices. Being able to influence their choices, teaching them the ways of God and who they are to Him, are gifts that only He can give. We are His vessels... just like the name of this home “Chombo Cha Upendo” (meaning “Vessel of Love” in Swahili). I know that I will soon have to say goodbye to these beautiful people who have been vessels of love to me. Only a month and a half left. I know that God has used me here. Because I went, He made me a vessel. I pray that wherever Mark and I are next year, in 10 years, or in 50 years, that God would be humbling us, teaching us to be more like Him, and encouraging our willingness to be vessels of His love. Thank all of you who pray for me and for the kids. Also, I know many of you were praying for Mark and me while he was here... those prayers were answered, thank you. I have more prayer requests for this month:
I would love to hear from all of you. Please don't hesitate to write me by mail or by email. I am continually reminded of you all and know that you have been in my prayers. Love, Sarah Jamieson |
For
God to prepare my heart for closure as I near my date of departure. That He will sink into
my heart all the lessons I've learned and all the people who have changed my life.