This is Real Life...Kenya Week 2

I honestly believe I’ve seen, experienced, and learned more in the past two weeks than any other period of my life. Kenya is the real life version of the classes I’ve taken, the books I’ve read, and the prayers I’ve prayed. I’m seeing the devastation behind the data of HIV and AIDS I wrote about in essays. I’m administering the vaccinations and handing out the tuberculosis drugs I read about in medical and public health textbooks. I’m recording the very same monitoring and evaluation statistics I learned about in class. I’m holding in my arms the malnourished babies I saw on American television. I’m witnessing the power and immediacy of the prayer, “give us this day our daily bread” that I prayed a thousand times before. And I’m seeing the Beatitudes come alive every day in those that come to the clinics, the nurses, and all the Kenyans I meet.

This is no longer academic, artificial, or distant. This is Real Life.

Sunday morning I was blessed to attend my first Mass at St. Camillus Mission Hospital. Hundreds of kids, men, and women packed into the lobby between the Maternity Ward and the Surgical Ward for a beautiful celebration of the Eucharist. Complete with women singing, men drumming, and girls from Dala Kiye (the Orphanage next door) dancing in the aisles, I didn’t want Mass to end. Fr. Julius gave a powerful homily about the Gospel, which was about the rich man who went away sad when Jesus told him to sell all he owned and give the money away to the poor. In the context of the poverty surrounding us, this Gospel takes on a completely different meaning. I thank God for the opportunity to pray and grow in my faith in a completely different way.

In the afternoon Jimmy, Amanda and I visited Sori, the “town” 3 kilometers down the road. “Professor” Emma, the hilarious woman that cleans the MCH Clinic, invited us over to her house to show us “real Kenyan life”. She bought us sodas (a sacrifice for her and her family) and we sat in her tiny home discussing the various struggles and obstacles faced by Kenyans every single day. Just to mention a few: no running water which means fetching water from the lake every morning. No electricity or gas which means cooking all your food on a charcoal “giko” or a fire outside if you can’t afford the charcoal. No good paying jobs which means eating ugali and sukuma wiki every single day, if you can even afford that. No real “free” education which often means deciding between feeding your children and sending them to school. Needless to say, this is poverty at its worst. After an insightful and sobering discussion, Emma took us to the market to help us buy a few more odds and ends we need/want for our apartment. Sori’s market is the place to see and be seen on Sunday afternoons and another great “Kenyan” experience.

My work week was poignantly marked by one heartbreak after another. Irene, Helen, and Mary in the clinic constantly chuckle and shake their heads at me as I’m appalled by the stories we hear and suffering we see. They’ve seen this all their life. They know these realities. They cope by telling me calmly, “Well, this is Africa”. Meanwhile, I weep inside that children are born with HIV just because this is Africa. That mothers can’t afford to deliver their babies in a hospital just because this is Africa. That nurses draw blood of known HIV patients without gloves just because this is Africa. That orphaned children work to survive as maids, nannies, and farm hands instead of going to school just because this is Africa. I know this is real life. But we don’t have to resign ourselves to this suffering just because this is Africa.

To end on a slightly more positive note: With most of the horrible stories come heroic, compassionate, and loving action on behalf of the nurses, doctors, public health officials, and community members. I’ve seen people go above and beyond every single day to help this orphan, that pregnant mother, this sick old man. I’m honored and humbled to work with these incredible people. I pray that I can continue to learn from them and to serve with the same sacrificial love.