Laughter… Tears… Another Day in Kenya

One that can so easily forget how utterly absorbing and demanding it is here, and how utterly unpredictable. There are never enough waking hours or energy to do half of what you wish you could. The profound experiences, feelings, impressions, and insights hit at such a rate that you simply don’t know where or how to begin to capture them. 

Rinda Hayes

We have been making school visits that are under the Kenya Keys umbrella. We hear the formal introductions and enjoy the visual feast of each school – brilliant colors of children flying about, stirring up the ever-present dust – joy erupting at the arrival of our vehicle. With so little to break up the stark monotony of their lives, our arrival is more exciting than Ringling Brothers ever was. The stark landscape that almost vibrates with the heat bursts into life.

Exuberant joy. It’s the only way to describe it.  We sink into the experience, get to know the teachers, hear the principals talk about the growing numbers and the harsh reality of no food. No food. No real harvest since 2019. Corn, dry, in the dusty field. A primary school, an oasis. Each book is a window into the world. Their music and dancing lift you, swirling, into a rhythm and world that is their sustenance, along with their belief in God, which is part of every breath they take. 

Why are they never bitter? Why do they never ask, “God, why have you forsaken me?” You ask, “how have you survived the Covid years?” They almost uniformly answered, “Challenges are great, which makes us trust more. Trust in God. He is our food,” We shake our heads in wonder. Their lives are what we, in our other world, would describe as misery. Misery. Watching them makes you ask question after question of yourself… of our world.

Heather Cooke

There are challenges of having such a small team, but I also love it. I love being able to personally witness it all through the eyes of these two amazing women, Maurine Halversen, and Heather Cooke, who are with us – dropped into all of it for the first time. Even though Maureen has been sick for two days, she rallies her indomitable spirit to dance and joke with the kids, while Heather shares her insights and insatiable curiosity. They are a seamless team, in heart and spirit. Gracious, affirming and so capable. But they grapple with all they see around them in disbelief.

Can such human resilience be real? Can we, from the other world, really be so weak and full of complaints when we live lives of such unimaginable extravagance and ease? Can a mere $15 really buy a new uniform for this young man who has come for his interview in a uniform, strung together at the waist, so worn you can see through it? Who would have guessed that a bar of soap could be such a precious gift?! A pair of “innerwear”— the reward for the completion of six months of training in the Kenya Keys Hope Springs program.

Maureen Halversen

You can’t sit in dismay and despair for long. You will shrivel up quickly in it. You breathe in the drumbeat inside you; feel the Kenya strength surge in your blood. And move on to what is next.

Interviewing our sponsored students is always a highlight for any of the U.S. teams. Too much to even be able to describe here, but in short: you meet the student and are representing their sponsor; you are the bridge, between the student before you and the person/family that lives on the other side of the world. That “bridging” is both challenging and magical. So stiff and difficult at first. Gradually, gradually, that difficult something melts away. You look into their eyes – beyond the nervous, uneasy child, so afraid they might mess up and lose this life-saving sponsorship.

Communication can be hard. But the eyes can tell the story. You hope they can see in your eyes something more than a white person that holds their future in their hands. It’s that God thing you rely on, the warmth building. Trust. Assuring them that if they work hard, continue will their dedication, go to all the KK conferences, and stay in touch with the office, Kenya Keys will be their safety net ALL THE WAY through their educational journey. The person who sponsors them cares about them deeply.

You watch the amazement of that spread through them. Their shoulders relax. They look back in your eyes. That gorgeous Kenyan smile starts to light up their face. You feel their sponsor looking over your shoulder. Joy. Pure joy. You are part of something so much bigger than yourself. A human thing. A caring thing.

Connection. What the world so needs right now. Connection.

The sun is gathering strength. Mbote, our dear driver, is soon to toot his horn. I hope there will be no excitement like yesterday, when Joseph, in an instant, became his African best, observing a red spitting cobra come into the compound, slithering in right between a woman’s legs, as she walked in bringing us fruit. He grabbed his slingshot and bottle of petrol, his friend with a large stick. (You haven’t seen anything until you see the lightning-fast shot that can come from a slingshot).

The snake was toast, as we say. They love our sayings. “The snake is toast?” 

Laughter. Tears. Another day in Kenya.