Kesi- The beginnings of 9 orphans

On October 16, 2011 I met a man named Kesi in Gete Kenya.  Kesi is one of the most generous and charitable men I have ever met. Because of the goodness of his heart Kesi has decided to care for 9 orphans that would otherwise be left to starve. The children are living in a mud hut, being provided for by his monthly salary ($80.00)  One day after many hours of volunteering he invited my brother and I to come over and see the children.  Sure enough there they were, sleeping on the floor of a mud hut.  After meeting the children Kesi went on to tell me that he had a dream that one day he would open an orphanage for 200 children.  He explained that it would be a place where the children could learn hope, and love, and would one day go on to teach those principles to others.  It broke my heart as I listened to him.  All Kesi wants in his life is to help others and make a difference. The sad reality of the situation is that Kesi will never accomplish this dream. Because of where he was born and his circumstances he will never have the means of raising money for an orphanage.  I think it was at that moment that I decided I could not just sit back and let Kesi's vision die away.  I may not have the power to raise millions, I may not even have the influence to make people care, but I can not sit back and do nothing.  I realize I have the responsibility to provide whatever I can for those sweet children, and every day they are depending me.  At any moment they could be going without food, sanitary water, or education.  As soon as I got home I began asking people for donations to go towards the education of my orphans.  I have set up my own non profit organization and have raised over $700.00.  Although this money will make a tremendous difference, it will not be enough.  I plan to do whatever I can until the day I die to make sure these sweet 9 orphans are taken care of.

The Slums

The fifth day I was in Kenya I got the opportunity to go to the slums.  We visited the largest slum complex in all of Africa, spreading over 1.5 miles housing over one million people.  It was unreal to take in everything I saw at the slums.  When I found out the slums were just miles away from where I was staying i immediately signed myself up to go see them.  As one of my Kenyan friends talked to me I began to get more and more afraid of what I might see.  I was to go with a body guard, and carry no valuables on me.  I was to stand in the middle of the two men I was going with, and was not to talk to anyone unless I got the ok. My guide explained to me that these people were living in a stage of desperation, and even though they were good people they would do anything to survive.  I was to be extremely careful. We took the public bus (matatu) to where the slums were, with people literally sitting on top of each other.  I knew as we drew closer that this was where Kibera was.  Trash lined the streets nearly three feet high on either side, and I watched as men ravaged through it to get any possible food or clothing.  I followed my guide through a street lined with trash and slimy green liquid until we got to where the actual slum "homes" began.  Suddenly even the slums in America were mansions.  These complexes were about about 10X10 square feet, and were literally piled on top of each other. To get from one home to the next you had to turn your body sideways to fit through the small spaces.  The homes were made out of mud, sticks, and tin (if they were lucky.) My guide stopped us at the first home we came too, and asked the family if we could come in to talk with them.  As I walked into the home I was awestruck and overwhelmed.  The house was about half of the size of my room, and held a mother, father, and 4 children.  The home had a few pillows on the floor to be used as couches, and a sheet half way through the room to separate it from where the were to sleep on the dirt floor.  There was a small table which carried one old moldy piece of bread, and a lantern.  Flies were swarming the room, and it smelt of sewage and rotting trash.  I watched as the mother came out from the back room carrying a small baby, who was obviously holding on for life.  The small babes eyes were hazy and would roll to the back of her head as she struggled to keep her own head up. We sat and talked to the father for a while about what it was like to live in the slums.  He explained to me that he was stuck, that all he wanted to do was provide for his family but that the only work he could find was selling bread. Although he worked hard, he was struggling to pay a rent of $2.50 a month.  After a little while of talking the rest of their children stumbled in from school.  Two of them were shy and scared of us white people, and the third was down syndrome. I will never forget her beautiful face, and her happy smile.  She walked right over to me, laughing and screaming with excitement and sat right on my lap. The father told us how his children's education was the most important thing to him. I watched the pain in his eyes as he prayed that one day they could leave these conditions. Once it was time to leave we handed the man 300 shillings, which is equal to about $3.00 and was on our way. When I got back to my headquarters I was suddenly full of guilt and could not eat dinner.  Those people were to stay in those conditions for the rest of their lives, and just like that I went back to a meal that they could never dream of having. I felt completely overwhelmed.
The thing is that millions of people live like that every day, and will live like that until the end of the world. No one can change that, it is just the way the world is.  But I realized something very important in Kibera. Although I can not rebuild their government, or donate millions, I can be informed and I can share with the world.  That is really all those people want.  They want to know that the world cares, that we know of their trials and heartaches and we pray for them.  I will never stop telling these stories and sharing those peoples voices.

One of the hardest days of my life

After spending four weeks at rainbow house orphanage in Getti Kenya the time had come when I must leave to another area.  After spending every day with the beautiful children my heart was breaking to think that I must leave them.  I felt as if they were my own children, or own brothers and sisters.  I had grown to love them in a way I did not know was possible, and everyday I prayed that somehow I would be able to stay with them longer.  But the time had come that I must leave.  The children had known that I would be leaving and the previous days had been very gloomy at the orphanage. Every day they would beg me to stay with them, to not abandon them like everyone else in their lives had.  That friday we came to say our last goodbyes. The children had all prepared us letters and a song upon our arrival.  We cried and hugged, and I promised them no matter what I would never forget them.  As I walked away I could not control my emotion.  I was walking away from 26 beautiful children that deserved every opportunity in the world.  Somehow the cards were dealt, and they wound up with the short end of the stick.  I was walking away to all the possibilities in the world and a bright future, simply because of where I was born.  They were stuck in a never ending cycle of Choas, hunger and desperation. It broke my heart to realize that all of these beautiful, kind, and innocent children, would one day be thrown out into the realities of the African World.  The girls would most likely be destined to become manual slaves or prostitutes, and the boys would spend a life time trying to provide meager provisions for their family only to be disapointed with hunger, heartache and death. 
As I got back to my headquaters after an emotional day I sat down to read the sweet letters the children had written me.  One of the girls I was the closest with was named Monica, she was 11 years old.  Her letter said the following in her shakey english:
"I love you Rachel so Much.  I miss you so much when you are going I feel cry cry cry. I feel happy when you come again to Rainbow house children.  Dont go Rachel ok? Whe you going I am crying so much and I am a sick people.  I pray for you Rachel at Rainbow house church. I love you so much I love you so much Rachel love you and your parents and your sisters and brothers. I miss you I pray for you all the time.  You are the best player and God has blessed you so much.  When you go I sing the song: Goodbye, goodbye, oooh goodbye our friend.  God has reminded you to give a gift. 
I am fine, you are fine no problem.the problem is this one, you are going to America tomorrow is leaving me.  Rachel, Rachel, Rachel I love you.

Your friend, Monica."
Everytime I read this letter I laugh and cry and contemplate.  Monica taught me some valable life lessons.  She taught me that we should love ALL of our fellow human beings, black or white, known or unknown.  She also taught me that because God has given me so much, he has "reminded me to give a gift." I believe we all have a responsibility to give a gift, and that gift is compassionate love and service.

Voices that cant go unheard

I have now been home from Africa for almost five months.  When I left Kenya my greatest fear was that I would forget all that I saw, heard and learned there and just go on with my life as I always have.  I am getting to the point now where every day I dont constantly think about the childrens faces, their stories, their circumstances, and that scares me.  I met so many incredible people over there that completely changed my life and I know their stories must not go unheard.  I plan to use this blog as the means to share those stories, so that I can never forget, and others can understand why it is crucial to do your part, and pass it on. 

My Journey

My journey this past year has been incredible.  I went from having my life completely figured out to having to refigure my life.  When my plans for my future did not work out I was lost and confused and mad that I could not always control my future.  It took a while for me to submit my will to that of Gods plan for me.  From that point my life took me places I never dreamed it would.  I unexpectedly ran for Miss Salem, became extremely involved in community service, and left for Africa for a Semester.  I am now so grateful that God is in control of my life because the things he had planned for me were much greater than my own plan.  I can say I have honestly learned and grown more than I ever thought I could in just one short year.