In all of my life I have never met a community of people so welcoming and generous as the Kenyans we have interacted with this week. The Swahili words, "Jambo," (hello) and "Karibu" (welcome) swarm around us everyday. Adults come to us and pull us near to kiss our cheeks. Children and youth run to us to shake our hands. Pedestrians stop to wave when we drive by. Every moment of every day we have been welcomed so warmly that I have rarely felt uncomfortable in a place so different from my home.
The very first morning we arrived in Nairobi (after many flights and having not slept in a good 48 hours), we rushed straight to Sigona PCEA church to participate in their 10:30 service. This service is mostly in Kikuyu, the tribal language of the Sigona community. We were pushed into the aisles, encouraged to spread apart and sit with people we did not know. A woman sitting on a center pew grabbed me and squeezed me in between herself and another woman. As the service began, everyone stood and the room filled with music, singing, clapping, and dancing. Everyone participated and everyone seemed filled with joy. The words we were singing were in kikuyu but I joined in the the best I could.
I have learned that all Kenyans sing. They are not shy about their voices and they are never insecure about lacking the ability to sing well. They all join in, and together they create beautiful harmonies. Rebecca Clark, a member of the DCPC crew, said it quite right the other day: "Americans talk very loudly but sing so soft. But Kenyans, they speak softly and sing as loud as they can." Kenyans sing because they want to praise God all the time so that when Christ returns, they will be praising his name.
Later on in the service that first day, during the passing of the peace, the lady next to me turned and shook my hand to greet me. Instead of saying the expected, "Good morning," or "Welcome," she looked directly into my face and said, "I love you." I was stunned. Never have I ever had a complete stranger tell me such intimate words, especially with such sincerity. It could be that she did not speak much english and confused her words. Regardless, she was willing to take the risk of speaking to me so that she could greet me and make me feel welcome. Despite being exhausted from jetlag and finding myself in a completely foreign environment, I felt glad to be in Kenya.
Kenyans also welcome others shamelessly. The poverty in Kenya is very widespread and can, in certain areas, be much more extreme than most places in the U.S. Many of the roads are not paved and have serious bumps and holes and ditches. Litter and trash cover much of the landscape. Open markets made of tin and wood line the road side. People walk along the roads wearing tattered clothes and donkeys follow behind them to transport their few goods. Also on our first day here, we went on a walking tour of the families of the preschoolers who attend the Sigona Child and Youth Center. Every home we went to was made of sticks, held together with mud and holding up a tin roof. A piece of cloth often served as the door. Most of the homes were hardly as large as a single bathroom or a walk-in closet. I was appalled at the sight of these structures which, at first, I did not believe could actually be a family's home, and certainly not a family with young children. But every single family welcomed us inside their homes. They urged us to squeeze into their tiny "living room" space so that we could visit with them briefly. Despite their obvious poverty, they did not expose any shame. They appeared eager to have us come so that they could share with us about their lives (no matter how painful they were).
Later on in the week, we also toured Kibera Slums, the largest slum in Africa. We walked through the "streets" that covered our shoes with mud and sewage. The air smelled of roasting meat and human waste (not a pleasant combination). Rows of homes made of tin, sticks and mud lined the streets. "Flying toilets" (plastic bags containing excrement) hung in tree branches. Just walking through what hundreds of Kibera inhabitants call home made me feel dirty and sick to my stomach. But the children smiled when they saw us walk by. Groups of them ran up to us wanting to shake our hands. They yelled the one english greeting they knew how to say: "How are you!" Some children would jump up and down, repeating the phrase: "Howareyou! Howareyou! Howareyou!" They gleamed, waiting for our expected response: "Fine. How are you?" Some of them even followed behind us continuing to chant their greetings and wanting to shake our hands. Though some of the adults glanced our way with scorn, most of the people and all of the children welcomed us joyfully and without shame despite the overwhelming dirtiness of their living environment.
My favorite part of our time here in Kenya has been our interactions with children. On our first Monday, we took the 50-something preschoolers to the Nairobi History Museum and animal orphanage. All day I had little hands reaching to grab my hands or even fingers as we walked. The children came to me, wanting to sit on my lap, or by my side. They would touch my hair, inspect my hands (careful to observe every finger and nail), and wonder at the peculiar shade of my skin. Many of them took joy in trying to read my name from name tag. They would point at my name and repeat after me as I would say, "Lisle...Lisle...Gwynn...Gwynn. Lisle Gwynn! Lisle Gwynn!" They would do it over and over again, never tiring from the game. They were so trusting of me, even though I was a complete stranger and I looked pretty funny compared to the people they are used to seeing.
Today we enjoyed our final event with the Sigona Church. After both Church services, we participated in Social Sunday, which brings together all the members of the community for food, music, performances and fun. As I sat on the side while different groups sang and performed, children swarmed around me. They sat on top of me, behind me and beside me. They grabbed my arms, fighting over who could hold my hand. They took my sunglasses from my face and placed them on theirs. They found my digital camera and fought over who could take pictures of me. Many of them did not know much english, but would ask questions like, "Where you come from?? USA?" With so much attention from such young kids, I felt almost like Jesus and the children. Not a bad feeling at all. One girl snuggled up beside me and kept tugging on my shoulder to get my attention. She asked where I came from and what my name was. After a few minutes, she tugged on my arm again and pulled me close. She whispered into my face, "You are beautiful." I could tell she didn't know much english, but she began to whisper complements to me as soon as she would think of a new one: "You are smmmart! You are a beautiful girl." I told her thank you and that she was an especially beautiful girl. The children here in Kenya truly are some of the most beautiful people I have ever met.
Kenyans are quick to welcome complete strangers. They constantly sing praise. They give thanks for everything they have and remember to stop and give thanks to God before everything they do. Their voices join together. Their hands grasp one another. Their words greet complete strangers: "Karibu!" "How are you!" "I love you!" They are a community. Some have very little and some have quite a lot. But they join together to constantly sing praise. It is my greatest hope that the memory of their joyous voices will not fade as we cross oceans and travel all the way home.
Read more!
My experience today was amazing. The home visits really touched me and showed me how much we take for granted (or how much I take my mom for granted). These children love to learn and they know about the lord. They can even recite Bible verses without a Bible. The people are so friendly, and I'm just so glad my dream finally became a reality.