Beer and Biscuits

Never has a beer tasted so good as it does tonight (well... not since the last beer anyway). It's been a long, hot and dusty day and the old throat is as parched as a gravel pit.

This morning we headed off to Naivasha again. Belting along the crappy roads of Nairobi, we skimmed the elbows of cocky verge walkers, manoeuvred around balmy matato bus drivers and rode the rutted tarmac that once upon a time decided to turn itself into a river of tar and then at the last moment changed its mind.

We headed north-west out of the city (driver William at the wheel), and after an hour we rounded a bend and found ourselves gasping with spontaneous wonderment as we gazed down upon the Rift valley that sits at the head of the Maasai Mara. Words really can't alert anothers mind to the sheer awesomeness of the geography...our socks were totally knocked for six!!!

We made the hairy decent, with no roadside barriers in sight but plenty of lorry driving lunatics. We passed a tin shack painted with the words GOD IS GOOD, ALL THE TIME and a zillion red and white stalls all selling the same tourist-tat....until we reached the valley floor and on we went until suddenly William lurched off the road and headed across desert-like scrub. I recognised a few desolate landmarks and I knew we were almost at the orphanage again (the one we'd visited with William back in October, called PBB - Prayer Beyond Boundaries Academy)

All the girls 

This time we had returned with goodies for the 68 children aged 5-12. We'd been kindly donated footballs and skipping ropes by my brother-in-law Andy, from his school in Canterbury. And we'd bought some education materials and sugary biscuits.

When we arrived at the entrance and sat waiting for a guard to admit us at the metal gates, I was suddenly full of a great sense of inadequacy. It felt so pathetic to be arriving with these gifts....what use really were our meagre offerings? And who were we to be doing this drop'n'run charity visit?
I just didn't know if we were doing the right thing...but what would the right thing look like?

William gives out the footballs

The next moment we were driving into the children's world and parking the car. As my eyes scanned the group I was shocked. They looked so dishevelled, more than I'd remembered and they looked back with dulled eyes and exhausted expressions. Trevor and I exchanged looks and I knew what he was thinking....my heart tightened.

These children had all lost their parents, their families and their whole communities during the post election violence that swept across the country back in 2007. As Trevor wrote in one of our earlier blogs, they had witnessed unspeakable atrocities and many of them had escaped death by the skin of their teeth - surviving massacre attacks, terrifying brutality and acts of pure evil. Some had sort shelter and refuge in a church with their traumatised families only to have it set ablaze....and miraculously these little people had survived.

And now....now they are living under the care of a few adults, in very poor conditions. They have no guardians or mentors. They are not visited from outside or given an opportunity to experience the outside world. They have literally lost everything. They are homeless, rootless and hopeless.

Trevor and the older boys

We both threw ourselves into our time with the children; playing football, skipping and giving out biscuits to lick and nibble. But they were like tired, dusty birds...thin and ragged, with no hope of finding a cosy nest. I felt a waterfall of sorrow welling up in my heart. I longed to do so much more than skip with them and give out biscuits - I wanted to feed them, wash them, read to them, hug them and most of all play with them and see them smile.

When we drove away they burst into spontaneous song...''Good bye visitor, thank you for what you have done for us, God bless you visitor".

I didn't want to be just a visitor; a fleeting do-gooder. In the car for the rest of the drive we talked about what could be done to bring hope and a future to these children. We talked about the need for each child to have a mentor to love and support them emotionally with a link to a family in the outside world. The need to learn skills and crafts. To have fun making, creating and developing their imagination on a daily basis. To have the opportunity to play sport and have activities to develop their bodies. To delight in building dens and climbing trees. To keep pets and learn about life from people who keep telling them, "You are so incredibly special, we see the potential in your beautiful life and we can't wait to see how you'll grow and how you will bless this world....we are all so thrilled that you are here. You are unique and greatly loved".

Lining up for biscuits

Who will be there to tell them this? They are children of the universe and they deserve so much more.




As we left I was surprised to feel a great sense of hopefulness - that was not what I'd expected.  They have already proved they can survive. They have already shown how courageous they are.  They have already shown such resilience in life.
So, as we bumped our way back down the Masai cow herders track to the main road I decided to trust in their potential to overcome their traumatic start to life.



Braam Malherbe said, "What are you going to do to be an asset to the planet? If you're not an asset you are a liability. We have the ability to overcome. Life learns to Adapt or Die"

And Darwin said, "It's not the strongest who will survive, nor the most intelligent ....but the one who most accepts change"

                                                                                                                               - JB