Nancy and I decided where to go for “Date Night,” closed our apartment, and began walking along the Kenyan road. Every once in a while we paused to greet those in our community, to share a word and a smile.

The distant sounds of roosters were obscured by the immediate laughter of children swaying to and fro inside a neighbor’s party. The lights and sounds of the celebration seemed to beckon anyone willing to enter. Several Indo-African women pranced into the gathering with toddlers in toe. The fabrics from their silky, colorful Asian wraps seemed to flow effortlessly behind them as they walked.

Across the street stood a beautiful white mosque with ivory minarets reaching into the night sky. Lights from within the towers projected a green tint against the surrounding clouds. The sound of an Imam’s prayers could be heard over loud speakers. His distinct tenor provided a musical descant above our heads. Although unable to understand the Arabic, we appreciated the practice of prayer.

Nancy and I smiled as we considered all the beauty we witnessed walking along the road. We never imagined the diversity and multitude of cultures we would find here. Our evening stroll gave us a glimpse of the different ethnicities, religions and nationalities present in the Nairobi community. Our “Date Night” became a moment for us to pause and appreciate each other and all those who live around us.

Posted on May 31st, 2009 by Shelvis
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Streets of Bukavu

My colleagues and I swerved into the gates of Panzi Hospital after traversing the rock powdered, red clay roads of Bukavu. Toting notebooks, pens and a mixture of emotions, we approached the iconic facility. Panzi Hospital has been a refuge of nurture and healing for thousands of women and children. The hospital is strategically based in the capital city of the Democratic Republic of Congo; a country that has witnessed the rape of 500,000 women over the course of the last 10 years. Rape is often overshadowed by the other issues of conflict gripping a nation where over 6,000,000 lives have been lost in 10 years of violent clashes (a death toll that is greater than the wars in Iraq, Afghanistan and Darfur combined). The harsh reality is that women’s bodies are often used as battlegrounds in these ethnic, political and resource-based disputes. In the DRC, a woman is raped every 25 minutes. Most rapes are never reported, most survivors are never treated and most perpetrators are never brought to justice.

I visited Panzi Hospital with a delegation from FECCLAHA and Nairobi Women’s Hospital. Our goal was simple: to partner with the caregivers of Panzi Hospital to work together in addressing issues of Gender Based Violence in this region. The walls of the hospital building conceal stories of hurt and tragedy, yet the faces of the women in the courtyard spoke to us the words unheard. We marched forward watched by dozens of women squatting in groups eating their evening meals; their bodies illumined by the day’s fading light and the fires brimming under their pots. Most of the women travel from miles away by boat, by bus or by foot. Many use all of their savings to reach the hospital and have no family or home to return to. A large percentage of the women were chased away by their husbands, communities or churches. The women are seen as unclean, impure, promiscuous, shameful, lustful or the cause of God’s ill will. Unfortunately, several cultures marginalize survivors of rape.

Our small ensemble wandered through an open courtyard seeking the office of Dr. Denis Mukwege, the Head Doctor, Director and Founder of the hospital. In 2008, Dr. Mukwege received the UN Human Rights Prize, the Olof Palme Prize, and the title “African of the Year” by the Daily Trust.  Dr. Mukwege performs up to 10 surgeries a day in his 18 hour work days.

Shelvis, Judy and Dr. Denis Mukwege

An assistant informed us that Dr. Mukwege was still meeting with patients, so we entered a small corridor overlooking a flower garden. There we found a collage of images: pictures of women and men expressing words of solidarity. One quote states, “Know that your voice, your pains, and your victories are being heard, shared, and worked for even though we are far apart.” A quote from Hilary of the Bronx boldly asserts, “We can create change; we can end the violence.” Valentina from Austria simply states, “There is hope.” As I walked through the corridor, my eyes were drawn to remarks from a Rwandese woman, a survivor of the genocide that happened in the small neighboring country exactly fifteen years ago. Her words unite her tragedy with that of these brave survivors of rape. She says, “I feel your pain and I cry to God every day…I admire your courage, strength to fight and I am with you always.” I believed that she is with these women. Her genuine concern for their fate links them. Although she was not physically present, her words of encouragement (along with the other quotes and images from around the world) offer the women something that may seem lacking at that point in their lives: love. The small room is an oasis in a dessert of dissonance. I was thankful for a moment to pause and center myself on the hope that exists.

One of Dr. Mukwege’s assistants informed us that he was ready to meet, so I took a deep breath, said a short prayer and walked towards his door.

Posted on April 30th, 2009 by Shelvis
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Shelvis, the Double Dutch King (photo by Henry Coates)

April was the month of homesickness. Perhaps April, because it was the 8th month of an eleven month journey, but whatever the reason, in April I began to dream of home. I was feeling particularly low the Saturday morning we woke up early to go visit a children’s church program in Dandora. The outing included all 7 YAVs (our US group), some amazing Kenyans who volunteer regularly on Saturdays, and about 80 children who live by the Dandora trash dump. Once we arrived at the church, the children quickly grabbed our hands and included us in their reading time. We read stories in small groups and then had porridge together. My favorite part of the day was a small-sided soccer match we set up between stones in the church construction area. The children played with great enthusiasm and sportsmanship. I loved it. We ended the day with singing and dancing. The children made certain to shake our hands and wave goodbye as we left the church compound.

That Saturday morning, I woke up longing for the community I left in the States; fortunately, the children were willing to welcome me into their community with great joy and love. Their encouragement was just what I needed to push through a slump and open my eyes to the opportunities remaining in our last few months in Kenya. Sometimes God allows us to comfort one another, at the same time. (to view a video clip click here).

Sometimes God allows us to comfort one another at the same time. (photo by Henry Coates)

Posted on April 30th, 2009 by Nancy
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(A Disclaimer: to my friends writing to me that their lives are “predictable” and my life seems exciting, please realize stories like this one are the exception for me. My normal day is spent in an office cubicle. Consequently, my relationships with co-workers in the office have the greatest impact on me, and those are the relationships I will carry home with me.)

Roadside Students (photo by Henry Coates)

Shortly after starting our journey to visit water program sites, the engine started smoking, and we pulled over. I stood on the roadside beside the car and, unsurprisingly, some young children stopped to stare at me. The children were on their way to gather water, and consequently were not in school that morning. The children were not going to stop starring until we departed, so I tried to make the most of the opportunity. We turned the roadside into a small classroom. We started with mathematics using tiny rocks. I put two rocks in one small boy’s hand and three in the other hand… ngapi? (how many?).

We read all the words visible on the car, and then I pulled out the only reading material handy, a small blue passport. The passport has phrases from US history written on each page. An older girl, who joined the class after the boys, was able to read the sentences: “We hold these truths to be self-evident; that all men are created equal…”  As I listened, I felt proud of the ideals my country strives to uphold and grateful for the opportunity to discuss them with these eager learners.

After an hour, we were on the road again. We passed a community with a  CWS supported program and decided to stop. The children quickly lined up outside their mud school building and sang us a beautiful song translated to mean: “sing with joy because God has given us life.” Not wanting to be outdone by school children, fellow American Henry and I decided we would also sing a song in our mother-tongue with an equally inspiring message. We sang and danced “the Hokey Pokey.” After initial shock and confusion, the children joined in with the motions. Good times.

photo by Henry Coates

We had not gone too much further down the road when we were stopped by a group of boys with bows and arrows, dressed in brown, and accompanied by an older man in camouflage. The boys gathered beside the car and the man spoke to us in Pokot. Fortunately, our friend Deborah Katina, the director of a local community organization, was with us and speaks Pokot. Unsure of what they were saying, I assumed they were a greeting party. Then we gave the boys some bread and water. Deborah asked if we could take their photo, and they agreed. The boys covered their faces with rope headdresses and lined up in front of us singing: “We are powerful, more powerful than the wild animals, because we live in the bush.” (To listen to their song: click here)

photo by Henry Coates

The car continued to climb the mountains on a bumpy dirt road. We passed camels, stopped to clear branches from the road, and walked when the car could not carry our weight up a steep hill. We finally arrived at our destination and received an amazing greeting. A group of about 75 adults and children were on the road singing: “Welcome, welcome our visitors. God knows how God will bless you for coming here.” (to listen: click here)

Deborah, Director of Yang’at, and Rose, the soloist (photo by Henry Coates)

As we walked together to their water source they sang: “Let God’s will be done here. Let God’s will be done in our community. Let God’s will be done in our homes …” At the community meeting, the children sang about David and Goliath and about walking in the light of God (To listen click here). They ended with the following lyrics: “Bring all the children to school, so that they can build our country, so they can be doctors, so they can be teachers, so they can be like Deborah….”

Deborah grew up in West Pokot, is committed to increasing educational opportunities for girls, and is a role model, providing inspiration to many. (For a Recent Public Radio International program on Deborah: click here).

On our way down the mountain, we stopped to visit one more community. They also showed us their current water source, which was filled with bees (to view click here). The children there are stung daily, as the bees compete with the people for the short supply of water.

As we left, some community members asked Deborah what tribe I was from. Deborah explained to me that tribes have symbols: the tribe of the lion, the ant, thunder, etc. I thought about it and responded that I did not know the symbol of my tribe. With joy, they quickly decided to give me one. The people looked around and noticed the setting sun. “You are from the tribe of the sun,” they said, “because you have come with the sun.”

We rode down the mountain encouraged by the beauty, hospitality, and faith of the people we met. I was grateful for the mountains, for the opportunity to play a small role in water relief programs, and mostly for God’s love that speaks through people of all languages and life experiences.

Posted on March 31st, 2009 by Nancy
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From young girls to the elederly, women are often seen walking bent over under the weight of heavy loads strapped onto their heads. (photo by Henry Coates)

A passage in Luke recounts the story of a woman entering the synagogue while Jesus was teaching (Luke 13:10-17). “She was bent over and could not straighten up at all” the text states. “When Jesus saw her, he called her forward and said to her, ‘Woman you are set free from your infirmity.’ Then He put his hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and praised God.”

The miracle stories in Scripture come to life for me in Kenya. When the burdens of traveling all day for water, the pains of hunger, and the limitations of illiteracy are lifted, I often witness Kenyan’s straightening up and praising God.

I am grateful to serve with CWSEA which participates in God’s work by partnering with communities to lift burdens. To learn a bit more about the work I am a part of in Kenya, please watch this 4 minute video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWMsuwmbgHA

Posted on February 28th, 2009 by Nancy
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