I sit here struggling alone this evening, torn with all that is transpiring back home, the hate, the violence the continued division and the continued watering down of morals and truths of our Catholic teachings. I have not had these feelings since the time when my marriage fell apart. What allowed me to persevere and heal then, without even realizing it, was volunteering by serving others and learning about those less fortunate than me. Now being across the world trying to navigate under the limitations of covid-19, I realized I needed the same kind of healing.
Last week I teamed up with Sr. Pauline, who oversees the needy children throughout the diocese of Mombasa. We were able to touch 14 families, about 100 children. We spent one full day in places I would never have been able to wander to, purchasing food from several different shops as she knows where she can get the best deals. She is a great negotiator and we usually retired the shop spending under our anticipated budget. I did some additional purchases from local youth who could use the support. Abdalla, my guardian son, who packages and sells peanuts, the triplets (three orphan boys we care for) grow green leafy vegetables so we supported them also. I bought a crate of mangoes from a young man who recently opened a small shop trying to save money in order to continue with his university studies and Sr. Pauline’s house mate makes a local snack, 100 bags of those. We portioned and packaged enough food to last each family for about two weeks.
I very much enjoyed visiting areas that would not have been possible on my own. I will highlight a few of the wonderful experiences this provided.
I invited Abdalla and fellow missioner Kathy, to join us the first day, because we were going to visit an orphanage operated by the Sisters of St. Joseph. The reason I requested for Abdalla to join us was because it is not only good for youth to volunteer, but also because there may come a time when he may have to find a home for his two young siblings in order for them to be properly cared for and educated. Abdalla liked the home and enjoyed playing with the kids. If you recall the story of the three orphans (triplets we call them) who the three Mombasa Maryknoll lay missioners care for, two of their younger brothers are living there. I was such a delight to meet and have pictures with them. Sr. Pauline is going to arrange a week-end where they can come and stay with their older brothers and we will have a party!
Our last visit that day was to a family of eight, both parents and six beaming children. The oldest boy is in a seminary, and when I asked if he would like to become a priest, he responded with an immediate no. The next boy who is 19 years of age and in Form 2 (sophomore in high school) came from Nairobi. He was what we call a street boy, survives on the street and eases the pain by sniffing glue. He is now smiling ear to ear and taking life seriously. One of the girls will be finishing Class 8 this year who I previously agreed to sponsor her for secondary school. The father works at the largest market in Kenya carrying sacks of potatoes from the trucks to the many vendors selling them. He begins his day at 4 am, works until dark and is paid $5.00 per day.
My last story is about a family we visited in the very poor area of Mikindani. Michael, the oldest child, met us at the local Catholic Church to direct us to the home. I had the chance to visit with him alone while Sr. Pauline was in the church office. He also goes to the seminary and when I asked if he wished to become a priest it was a resounding YES! Michael is so full of joy; I couldn’t help but to admire him. We parked the car on a very narrow street upon a very large hill, we carefully made our way down to their mud and stick house where his mother and four siblings live. The house is right on the edge of this high slope that ends in a large tributary connecting to the Indian Ocean. The rainy season just passed which caused the back of the house to buckle and the earth to crack. Their open-air shower (a bucket of water and a jug) along with a borehole, plastic container and rope where they pull saltwater from the ground to bath and cook with. They stay there because it is all she can afford, $10 per month. We are concerned that the house will simply slide off the edge into the ocean, so am praying as to see if there is a way to shift the family to a safer location.
After this I spent time reading a very good book about the life of Kennedy Odede being raised in the slum of Kibera where I was able to tour while in Nairobi. The book provided me with a better understanding of the cultural beliefs and the hardships people here endure. The healing is slowly replacing the uncomfortable feelings that have surfaced within me. I have learned to trust God and even thank him for passing me through these times, but acknowledge to Him how much I don’t like it. But I know God has his purpose!