First
of all, as you may or may not be aware – Kenya has recently proclaimed war on
Somalia due to "Africa's most fearsom Islamic militant groups", the Al Shabab, who has been kidnapping
tourists and foreigners. Kenya sent troops across the border to try to
eradicate this terrorist group, however, they do not have the necessary funds
to continue this war. They have been supported by the US, as we have sent
special forces into the border, but Somalia has still threatened to bomb Kenya
if they do not withdraw the troops, as they did to Uganda in 2010 when they sent peacekeepers to Somalia. Two bombings occurred last week at the
borders, killing civilians, and there have been further threats of attacking
Nairobi as well. While this has been going on, we were passing by Nairobi, and
we were told to tell people that we were from Europe if people asked where we
came from. We also had to redirect our route so we did not pass through the
center of Nairobi. Although I am completely safe where I am staying, the
Kilimanjaro Bush Camp, the war has been on my mind a lot recently. I had been
planning to spend two weeks after the program ended working in an orphanage in
Nairobi and now, after talking to several people including my site director who
gets many news from Nairobi, it looks as though I will have to cancel this part
of my trip because the war is predicted to only get worse from there. Even in
times of peace Nairobi is not the safest place to be and so during the war,
especially if it gets worse, it is not the time for me to be by myself in
Nairobi. I am deeply grieved by this change of events. I was especially excited
to do this part of my trip, but I know I will just have to make it a reason to
come back in a few years so I can finish what I intended (even though I fully
intended to come back before this recent development).
Another incident happened while we were at
Lake Nakuru. The rains have turned the roads to mud. And let me tell you, this
mud is unlike any I have seen. We were driving through the park after one particularly
harsh storm and our car slid off the road into a huge ditch and I was convinced
that we were going to roll over,which we nearly did. It took over an hour to
pull the car out, and as soon as we were on the road again we were sliding back
off into another terrifyingly close flip over. My heart still beats faster
recalling the moment.
While I am on the topic of danger, now that the rains are in full force – so are the bugs. They seem to be
everywhere; some being nicer than others. One afternoon while I was cleaning I
found an enormous centipede by the food of my bed, that was at least 4 inches
long and very poisonous. I could have easily stepped on this little guy and
lost the ability to walk within seconds. Yesterday, while going to the bathroom, I was visited by a hand-sized tarantula. And even though I wish I could say
this is the worst part – it’s not. The snakes have come out and one of my close
friends had a black mamba slither in-between her feet, and if she had stepped
on it – it definitely would have bitten her.
There
have been several other dangerous events lately that have had a very sobering
effect on me that have made my quick smiles and laughs come much harder. One of
my friends here was diagnosed with malaria while we were camping in Lake
Nakuru. She was sent to the hospital in Nairobi for a few days, and although
she is fine now, it was extremely frightening at the time. Not only this, but
two other members of our staff had malarai as well and are still recovering. More than anything this has
been a huge wake up call to the seriousness of this disease here. It is at the
point where I am so used to taking my malrone in the morning that I don’t even
remember why I take it. But the reality is so many people here are contracting
this awful disease, and dying from it daily. While researching, I found
that 26, 000 children in Kenya die every single day from malaria. I cannot be
more grateful for that pill I take every morning. But at the same moment, taking
that pill accompanies an incredible sense of guilt, as it is another reminder
of the things that the people here will not have access to for a very long
time, and will continue to suffer, while for some reason I was blessed into circumstances where having to take a malaria pill here can be taken for granted. 
Yesterday we went to Loitokitok to explore and
go to the market, and during this we also were able to visit an AIDS/HIV clinic.
Several women were there to greet us, and as we all sat in a circle together,
they shyly opened up and told us their heart-wrenching stories. Even as I write this, my heart
aches as I learned the details of the truth of what they have to face;the majority of it being a ghastly surprise which I had not even the slightest idea. I am hesitant to share these stories now, because they were entrusted to me in that circle, but I know that the only way to find help for these people is to know their stories. I pray that I am giving justice to them.
One woman found out she
contracted the disease from her husband, while she still had a small child. She
was afraid that her baby would have the disease as well, especially since it is
easily contracted through breast milk. Luckily the baby did not have the
disease. She found out she was pregnant again soon after words, and she was afraid
that this second child would surly have AIDS. But, once again, the baby was
clean. She calls him her “miracle” baby and she told us it was only because of
God that the baby did not have the disease.She handed around a picture of herself while she was in the hospital, and her friends where around her laying hands on her praying.This instantly brought to mind the verse:
James 5:14-16 Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith will save the one who is sick, and the Lord will raise him up.
The next lady expressed that she found out her 12 year old son had it from getting his hair shaved, as they had used an infected blade. Another lady was telling us that
once they found out she had the disease they put her in a room by herself and
treated her worse than a dog; putting her food at the door, never touching her or talking to her. Many of the people here don’t understand how AIDS is
contracted, and therefore when they find out that someone is ill, they are
afraid to even touch or talk to the person.
Many of
these ladies, while they were extremely sick, had so much pain in certain areas
of their bodies that they couldn't even move them. One ladies 13 year old
daughter dropped out of school so that she could care for her mother, because
everyone else refused to. The women here joined this support group and each
women expressed their whole-hearted gratitude for finding a place where they
were finally able to be loved again and feel at home. At the beginning we all introduced ourselves and told the ladies where we are from. When it came to them, each of them said she was from "Boma la Tumaini", the name of the clinic, calling it their true home. Here, although the disease still has no
known cure, they have access to medicines that are helping reduce the symptoms.
The clinic also offers them some employment as they are taught how to do extravagant
bead work – which is perfect because it requires very little physical exertion.
They also do volunteer work to help run a testing center which will test people
for free and give them knowledge on how it is spread and how they can find help
if they are infected. They also give free counseling for families who do not know
how to face the news. The name “Boma la Tumaini” means “home
for hope”. This place could not have a more true name.
Even
though this is a small ray of hope for the enormous pain that suffocates Africa
in the form of this disease, it was an extremely agonizing day for me.
Although we all hear the statistics such as “in the sub-saharan areas of
Africa, 22,500,000 people are living with AIDS, and there are14,800,000 orphans
whose parents died from AIDS" which always make a general impression, but it
is still hard to imagine the actual reality of this. A statistic can never
express what it is like to be disowned by your family, be treated like an
animal, and known you can never safely have children again. In Kenya alone,
1,500,000 people have AIDS, which means 1 in every 25 people I meet have AIDS.
I am longing to be able to do more for these people, but I am overwhelmed with
the vastness of the problem and despair and am plagued by the thought that my
help would mean nothing in the grand picture of this. But even as I write that
I know that if everyone thinks this, no one will ever be helped. Maybe all it
takes is each person taking the time to help one other person.
Needless
to say- this country needs prayer. Pray for the rains to come, for the millions
of people suffering with AIDS and malaria, pray for the war, pray for safety.
And most importantly, don’t stop praying. Even though I am living in Africa, I still
am discovering every single day how much more they need it than I had thought
the previous day.
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