Postscript

All photos in this post by Zeke Du Plessis

Jennie and Zeke visited a Chinese church in Nairobi on Sunday.  The pastor of this church, Melody, is supported by Jennie’s home church in Taiwan. She’s ministered to both to Kenyans and Chinese in Kenya for more than 20 years.  The Chinese community in Nairobi is growing, which is why Melody now pastors a church for the Chinese in Nairobi.

She invited all of us to visit a school that her and  her husband oversee in the Embakasi slum in south east Nairobi.   While Nairobi has many high and middle income areas, a large portion of the population (maybe up to 1/3) of Nairobi lives in places like this.  Most of the residents in Embakasi work as casual laborers in nearby factories.  Jeff and I have visited Kibera slum which has about 1 million people.  This one was much smaller (I think about 25,000); it’s a maze of corrugated steel structures–some shops, schools, clinics, homes, food stands…  It’s not far from the international airport, and from the top of a taller building in the slum we could see both downtown Nairobi and the stadium near where Jeff and I live off in the distance.

We were followed most of the way to the school by some children occasionally chanting “How-wah-yoo.” What was fun was to respond in Swahili instead of English, “Nzuri sana.” I don’t think they expected that!  Not every child in this slum is able to go to school.  Costs for uniforms, text books or other school fees can make education cost prohibitive for some families.  In some cases only one child in a family may be able to go to school.  Sometimes a child’s education is paid for by a relative or friend with more financial means, or a child’s education may be sponsored by an organization like Compassion International or Save the Children.

Melody started a school here for children about age 4 through, I think, age 13 or 14.  When the school first opened, Melody and her husband covered many of the school costs out of their personal funds.  Today, Jennie’s home church in Taiwan covers the teachers’ salaries and the text books.  Students do have to pay a small tuition, but the cost is greatly subsidized and much less in comparison to what the costs usually would be.  The buildings are simple, but the students seem happy and excited about learning.   Every student also gets one meal provided to them while they are at school.  For some it may be their only meal for that day.

The younger students greeted us with big smiles.  The older students sang us a special song that one of the students wrote about the school.  All the students and teachers knew Melody.  She checked in with different ones to see how they were doing.  We managed to bring everyone together for a group photo before we left.  Jennie and I helped with getting the crowd together while Zeke got up atop an unfinished classroom building to take the photo.  Almost everyone was in it.

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(Click on the image to enlarge it)

The Masalite already have a written language and a beginning reading primer.  The SIL team is providing the community with linguistic consultation and helping to train the literacy teachers.  The local communities are taking the lead in coordinating and conducting the actual literacy classes.

At the Bredjing and Treguine refugee camps we attended ceremonies where those that have completed the Masalite reading primer received certificates. There seemed to be a lot of enthusiasm for education and the Masalite literacy classes.  The SIL team is now thinking about what other literature they could work with community leaders to make available in Masalite.  Having a body of literature is a key to sustaining literacy over time because why would you keep reading if you’ve already read everything there is to read?  It will be interesting to see how this literacy program will continue to develop.

Eunice has been providing some personal tutoring to the guard at their compound. I was able to see her going through the literacy primer with him. Later in the evening, he showed what he had learned by writing several words on a blackboard.  He was laughing with excitement while he wrote each word he had learned in Masalite.

I’ve already talked about the harsh environment here.  It might make some want to give up.  But, I continue to feel the love that this team has for the people here–God’s love that they are sharing with this community.

When we were at one of certificate ceremonies, I came across this random plastic chair that said “Love of God.”  It really affected me at that moment just thinking about how God loves the Masalite, how He knows of their suffering, and how He’s using some of His servants to help them.

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Photo by Zeke Du Plessis

The team that is working with the Masalite on the literacy program is quite multicultural–German (Angela), Chinese Malaysian (Eunice), and South African (Marthinus).  An Australian couple also works with this team, but they are away right now.

Together with Jennie, Zeke and I, five nationalities were present and South African was in the majority with two!

Everyone on our team has been able to spend time along the way with someone from their home country.  Not only has this helped me to learn a little more about Taiwan and South Africa, it’s also  meant that in addition to French, Arabic (the trade languages of the areas we’ve visited) and English, I’ve also heard conversations in Manderine Chinese and Afrikaans. I’m loving it.

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Photo by Zeke Du Plessis

The name of the town we’re in is Hadjer Hadid–named after these heavy iron rocks that you see all over.  I picked up a small rock to keep.  I nearly lost it when Zeke found it in my camera bag and almost chucked it.  He asked me about it, and I rescued it.

My heart is heavy here. The people here have been through things I can’t imagine.  It’s the DarFur refugees you hear about on TV.  They have been forced from their home villages by the Janjaweed militia who burned their homes, raped their women, and killed people indiscriminately.  Actually violent acts have happened to the Masalite community on both sides of the boarder, so it’s not just the refugees that have suffered.  The local community has suffered, too.  I’m thinking–what does all this mean to me.  I’m expecting to see so many people that look like they are suffering.  But, life seems quite normal, aside the occasional passing UN tank–there’s at least two of them here.  It feels safe here.  The presence of UN peace keeping troops keep it that way.

I feel an incredible sense of community here.  People seem to take care of each other.  Our co-workers told us about how the refugees shared their burdens together and helped each other in their recovery from what they experienced.  The people here are resilient.  When we talk to them, they don’t talk much about how much they have suffered.  They are talking about the future–about growing in their knowledge, about helping their children to have a better life–and they are looking towards their return to Sudan.  How could they even think about returning to Sudan?  I can’t imagine.  But, it’s their home.

On sort of a side note, this sense of community is demonstrated also in how they talk.  When you greet a small group, very often everyone in that group responds to you–in UNISON.  I’ve never seen, er heard, anything like it.  Of course, the greetings are all in Chadian or Sudanese Arabic or Masalit, but if the conversation were in English, it might go something like this:

You: “How are you?”

Group: “We are fine.”

You: “How are your children?”

Group: “They are doing well.”

You: “What are you doing?”

Group: “We are here for a ceremony”

…and on and on…I mean, eventually, you do get individual responses, and this group response thing doesn’t happen all the time.  It reminded me of the chorus in a Greek drama, without a script!

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Dehydration has been a major issue for us ever since we came into the Sahel.  This is a transition area between tropical areas in the south and the great Sahara Desert to the north.  I don’t think I’ve ever been in a place this dry.  Three liters of water today…still getting dehydrated.  It’s not even the hot season here, and we still struggle being out between noon and two.

Photo by Zeke Du Plessis

We’ve been making rehydration drinks, but the drinks taste like sea water. Yuck!  However, a 1.5 liter hydration drink and a 2 hour nap has been our solution to our dehydration daze.  It’s a harsh environment, at least for us.  I feel like I’d die in the heat of the hot season.  My lips are peeling off.  My skin feels scaly.  I have a headache. My eyes look glazed. I need water. I need sleep.

But, at night the sky is amazing.  The stars–I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many.  They are so bright.  Is that a planet?  Mars has never looked so red. I think I see a satellite–yes, I think I can distinguish the difference between God and man’s creations in this sky.   The air is cool at night.  I have to wear a sweater.  We eat outside on a mat each night after dark.  I finish my food, and I look up.  I can’t stop looking at the sky.  I’m returning to my hut, and  I’m still looking at the sky.  Wow, God–I’ve never enjoyed your cosmic lights like this before.  I look back up–Orion’s belt has moved.  It’s the only constellation I recognize here. I’ve never noticed how it moves before.  I feel alive.

Read someone else’s thoughts on this area.

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