I'm going to be a great dad!

My friend Adam and I just watched the movie Courageous.  I definitely think that it's a movie that all dads should watch.  Right from the beginning I was hooked.  The opening scene is of a man stopping for gas.  As he turns around to pick up the window washing squeegee someone runs over and steals his truck.  This man turns around and climbs onto the window and starts fighting with the car thief.  Barely hanging on he causes the truck to swerve and finally crash into a tree.  The thief runs out and gets away.  But what happened next was incredible.  The man is thrown to the ground and crawls over to the truck.  Another car had stopped and told him to stay still and not worry about the truck.  He responds that he isn't worried about the truck as he opens the back door to check on his baby boy in the car seat.  It reminded me of the only happy memory I have of my biological father.  We were at a BBQ and swimming.  I remember going over to the pool when no one was watching and trying to jump into a round inflatable (I'll admit it - I haven't grown out of that adventure yet!).  I missed as the inflatable floated away and I sank to the bottom of the pool.  The next thing I remember is my dad jumping in the pool, fully clothed, and pulling me out.  Strangely, I remember his watch, of all things, still on his wrist and not working after.  I remember that my father saved me without concern for his belongings.

As the movie went on there were more encounters with dads (mostly all police officers) and their kids.  Another powerful moment is when two of the cops were driving while off duty.  The one dad had his daughter in the back and they were waiting for the other cop to come out of a building.  The daughter's favorite song came on the radio and she got out of the car and begged her dad to dance with her.  The dad was more concerned about what other people would think and he refused.  He told her that he was "dancing with her in his heart", but from inside the car he just watched.

There were more examples as these fathers began to really understand their roles as dads and as husbands.  As I watched more, I saw more and more how important it is for fathers to be their for their children; not just provide a roof over their heads.  Dads need to BE THERE for their kids.  Do things that their kids want to do, even if they hate it.  Earlier we watched an episode of the new show Person of Interest.  In it a character talks about how his dad walked out on him but always send him $200 a week.  One day he went and found his dad who had a new family.  The dad just gave him another $200.  The character said that he didn't want the money.  What he wanted was a dad.

My biological father was a drunk, abusive man - not a good role model.  But yet, that one memory of him can still bring me to tears because I know that on some level, at some point, he must have cared - even if it was just a little.  I have an amazing man that I now call my dad from when I was adopted.  He took me out back and taught me to throw a ball.  He taught me to ride a bike.  We went camping and took day trips together.  He came to my concerts when I was in the band in school.  My dad was present.  Since I've been coming to Kenya he has been incredible!  He's been so supportive of my decisions in every aspect.  I call my dad and start telling him current events here and he knows most of it because he's keeping on up Kenyan news.  Sometimes he knows more than I do and I've been living here for nearly 6 months now!

While I'm definitely not a father yet, nor will I be anytime in the near future, I can honestly say that I look forward to fatherhood.  I know that when I have children they will be my priority.  In that first scene two police officers were talking about how the man wouldn't let go of that steering wheel when his truck was being stolen.  The one asked the other, "there are a lot ways he could have died there.  Would you have kept holding that wheel?".  Such a thought provoking question!  Look from a different angle.  Your child;s life may not be in danger as your car is being stolen, but his heart is in danger!  Will you hold onto it so tight that you are willing to sacrifice anything for him?  What I mean is will you sacrifice your time to spend it with your son?  Will you sacrifice your pride and dance with your daughter in the park?  Will you sacrifice your income to live below your means so that you can be present with your wife and kids?  Ultimately, will you sacrifice your life to save your child's?

Up until a few years ago the thought of having my own kids scared me half to death.  I was filled with fear that I would turn out like my biological father.  But after taking the time to heal those wounds in my heart, I now know that my kids will grow up with a dad who is there.  Not just financially or physically there.  A father who is there emotionally and spiritually too.  I know that I won't be a perfect dad; I'll make my share of mistakes, but I'll be a great dad when that time comes.

What's next?

Two weeks from tomorrow I go back "home".  Home...not really sure where that is anymore.  I've certainly come to realize that home is not as simple as a physical location.  In two weeks this 6 month adventure comes to an end.  I had some plans worked out for when I got home; those plans fell apart.  While it's definitely a scary thought of going back to the USA without a job waiting for me, it's also very exciting.  My future is now as blank as this blog page was before I started typing.  Right now, I can go anywhere.  I can do anything.  That's what excites me.  I know without a doubt that this was the right time to come to Kenya for 6 months.  I also know that the same God that led me here for this time will continue to lead me in two weeks.

In Wild at Heart John Eldridge quotes that "the glory of God is man fully alive".  I love this!  I'm sad to say that I somewhat ignored it for a while before coming to Kenya.  I held a job that my heart wasn't really in.  I'm not trying to badmouth that company in anyway.  But it just wasn't my passion.  My biggest fear about going back to the US is finding myself in the same position:  taking a job to make ends meet and waking up three years later to realize that I'm not happy; I'm not alive in that job.

So what does this mean for the next step?  I'm not sure.  I have been offered a position with another ministry in Kenya (one that I can really get behind).  The position would allow me to really pursue my passions.  I'd be working with youth and I'd be able to do some prayer ministry with them - helping these young boys find healing from wounds of their past.

I haven't accepted that offer, but I know that it's there.  I've been job searching a bit too.  I know that something will come up.  I'm eager to see what direction appears on my blank slate!  Does that mean coming back to Kenya?  Does that mean a different country?  Does it mean a job that allows me to pursue my passions in the US?  I don't know.  But I do know that I'll be taken care of.

While this transition time is frightening because of the unknowns, it's going to be a great period of growth.  I will miss so many things about Kenya when I go back home.  I will miss so many people here.  But I'm also looking forward to seeing my family and friends in the US too.  I look forward to sharing stories.  I look forward to hearing more about how they are doing and what is going on in their lives.

So, what's next?  Good question...

It brings tears to my eyes

Just before Christmas I wrote about my friend Peter Lojore.  You can read his story here:  Peter's story

In December I didn't realize that there would be this kind of a follow up story; one that brought me to tears yesterday.

Peter spent about 10 days in the hospital.  He had broken his right leg which was casted.  Thanks to a Christmas check from a grandmother at home, I was able to pay for all of Peter's medical expenses.  As I went to find Peter a pair of crutches I met a hospital administrator that recognized me from when I brought Peter in.  Normally, a pair of crutches would have cost about 5000 Shillings with at the exchange rate then would have been about $50.  This admin offered me a pair that was in great shape and used once for 1000 shillings (about $10).  Peter left the hospital that day with a cast on his leg, fed and with a pairs of crutches. Unfortunately, because of his injuries Peter was unable to go back to his job and has been forced to beg for money and/or food in the streets.  The more I talked to Peter over the past couple of weeks the more it became clear that Peter really wants to work and get off of the street.  Here's where it gets good!

On Wednesday of this week I sat down with my friend Daniel Juma.  Juma runs a children's home just a few minutes away from here.  He specializes in working with street boys.  In fact, many years ago Peter actually lived in Juma's home.  There were some issues with the missionary sponsoring Peter at the time and eventually, Peter went to live with a local pastor.  The pastor ended up not taking care of Peter and that's when he took to the streets not knowing where else to go.  I talked to Juma about taking Peter in if I could find him a sponsor.  The organization that I am partnering with in Kitale, Transformed International, agreed to handle the sponsorship funds that came in for Peter.  Juma was very excited about the idea but asked me to first talk to Peter and make sure he would be willing.

Yesterday I met with Peter in the afternoon and asked if there was a family he would want to live with.  He mentioned Juma and that he would like to go back there.  When I told him that I would make that happen for him his smile was so bright!  He was so happy that he was forcing back tears.  I left town that day in tears with how happy I was that this was becoming a reality.  All I was left with was the task of finding a sponsor.

After putting something up on Facebook, I am pleased to say that Peter's sponsorship is now set!  Soon, Peter will can move into Juma's home - a 5 acre farm.  There, Peter will have a job of helping regulate the water supply to a greenhouse that Juma is building, something that he can do while sitting down and finally resting his broken leg.  As his leg heals, Juma said he will give Peter a section of the farm to grown a crop to sell and begin to support himself.  During the first month Peter will be given a bed, a mattress and a blanket.  More importantly, Peter is being given a chance to LIVE.  He is being given a family that will love him and care for him.  A family that will not judge him for being a street boy.  He's being given the life he was meant to have back.  Three days ago Peter was a 23 year old street boy with a very bleak future ahead of him.  Today, Peter has hope of a bright and happy future.

I think of the life that Peter will now have and it brings tears of great joy to my eyes.

conversation with the glue dealer

(Photo taken by Ray Smith, 2012)

One of the issues with street boys in Kenya (in many places in the world, actually) is glue. Boys take to the streets and will often begin sniffing glue. Many of the boys that have no families and actually sleep on the streets will do glue to keep warm at night. Imagine wearing torn clothing that barely fits, maybe a pair of ripped flip flops or barefooted, and then sleeping outside with no blankets. With temperatures dropping in the mid to low 40's. It gets cold. Often the glue is sniffed because it dulls the appetite and boys do not feel that they are hungry. If you want more information on it, there was a really well done documentary filmed here in Kitale:  http://glueboys.com/

For a little while now I've been wanting to find the guys who sell the glue to the kids. I've heard different rumors to where they are but I couldn't find any kids that would take me. Yesterday I was with my friend Alex-Juma, who, by the way, is about 8 years old. Yesterday was probably the highest that I've ever seen this kid.  But he did show me the glue salesman. In the photo above you can see a green stand the says Mpesa. On the other side of that stand is a fruit table that sells mangos, bananas... and glue. Interesting combination, isn't it? I walked by this stand yesterday with Alex-Juma and decided that I'd go back again today without him. I wasn't sure how these guys would react and I did not want to put my friend into danger.

Today I went and talked with the guy selling the glue. He was pretty upset when I asked him if he sells glue.  Actually, he got up from his bench and got in my face. Within seconds I was surrounded by 4 or 5 of this dealers friends, all with fists raised. I very quickly explained that I wasn't there to judge him or stop him. I was there to talk to him because I was curious. I wanted to hear his story.

Once he saw that I wasn't a threat to him he calmed down. His friends also backed down. He wasn't willing to talk right there because it "was too public". We went a few yards away outside of a store that was closed. And we talked for 15-20 minutes.  In that time I asked him a lot of questions out of curiosity; and he very honestly answered. To be honest I couldn't understand his name and didn't want to ask him a 3rd time to repeat it. This young man is 20 years old. Here are some of the questions that I wrote down his answers to after I left:

• How long have you been selling glue?
• "Just since 1 year ago"
• How did you get started selling glue?
• "I came to town one day and a friend set me up."
• Why do you start selling glue?
• "I needed a job and couldn't find one. I have finished up to class 8 and had no more money for school" (education past 8th grade is not free in Kenya)
• Do you have parents?
• "No, they died in 2001. I sleep at my brother's home."
• Where do you buy the glue from?
• "A man comes from Mombassa [coastal town, about 16 hours drive away] every Sunday and I buy from him."
• How much do you pay for it?
• "1500 shillings (at the current exchange rate that's $17.65USD) for 5 liters."
• How much do you sell it for?
• He pointed to my water bottle and showed about 1/2 inch and said that much is 30 shillings.
• He said that for every 5 liters he only makes about 200 shillings profit which may be explained by the next question:
• Do you do glue yourself"
• "Yes, I do glue at night from stress of the day"
• How many customers do you have & how do they know to come to you?
• Too many to count.  It changes every day.  The boys tell each other."
• How many others sell glue in Kitale and do they charge the same?
• "Yes, others sell too but not sure how many. The prices are about the same anywhere here."
• Do you want to sell glue forever?
• "No, I want to go back to school one day and be an engineer [mechanic]."
• Can you set money aside each week to pay for that?
• "No, I spend everything right away."
• When do you sell glue?
• "I am here today, yesterday and probably tomorrow and some other days.  From 7AM-7PM"
• Is glue good or bad?
• "Glue is very bad for you."
• Does it bother you to sell glue to kids when you know that it's bad for them?
• "No, it doesn't bother me at all. It's my job."
• Can I take your picture?
• "No, I don't like cameras. People come from churches and take pictures to get money for themselves."  

I left this young man after our conversation in shock of his honesty. I left with a lot more knowledge than I had moments before. Based on the questions, in red I am inclined to believe him. Of all the questions to lie about, those two would be the ones. He knows that it is wrong. But he doesn't see any other way to make a living. You see, for him this is not an issue of right and wrong. No, it is not that black and white. For this young man this is an issue of life and death. Sell glue to kids and live. Don't sell it and starve to death.  

To tell this young man that he's wrong doesn't matter to him because in his mind this is the only job is can have; it's also the only he feels worthy of having (which is a much deeper issue that deserves w blog all alone). I am by no means saying that he is right. But I am saying that in order for him to stop selling, he needs to see a new path that allows life.

And which of us can honestly and justly judge him for making a living the only way he knows how? Which of us can say that we would not do the same thing if we were in his position? 

"Do you really love your baby?"

I feel like every day I am in town is a new adventure - and I love it!  There is one particular woman that I see nearly every day I am in town.  I think that most people in Kitale have seen her.  She walks around with a baby strapped to her back while begging for money.  I've never given her money in all my time here.  You may be thinking that's terrible; what about the baby?  But let me explain that while the baby is surely suffering, giving her anything at all does no good for her baby.  In more cases than not when encountering her she smells like alcohol and acts very drunk.  A few weeks ago I was talking with her and asked her if she would like me to help her find a job so she doesn't have to beg anymore.  Her answer was, "no, just give me money".  The past few days I've been seeing her she still comes to me and points to her baby and puts her hand out.

I saw her from down the road a bit today.  I happened to be walking the direction that she was in.  As I walked I saw her elbow her baby in the face to make him cry (because apparently a crying baby gets more sympathy).  It wasn't just one little nudge either.  She wound up and whacked him good.  She then reached around and smacked him a few more times.

Seeing that I decided to stop and give her a talking to.  I tried explaining to her that she can't just hit her baby like that.  A local stopped to translate to make sure that she understood.  I know she speaks and understands English to some degree, still though, it was nice to have someone translate.  As I asked her if she would like someone to elbow her in the face like she just did to her baby all she could do was tell me to give her money.  Yes, she told me to.  She didn't ask - she demanded.

I reminded her of my offer to help her find a job and of her response.  It didn't seem to get through that she is quite capable of working.  Then I asked her a hard question.  "Do you really love your baby?"  I told her that if she really did care for that child in the way that a mother should, she would have taken the opportunity to find a job to support her and her baby.  Again, the answer that came through the one translating was another demand for money as he pointed to the baby.  

I have quite a few friends at home who, in the past couple of years, have become parents.  I am encouraged by a common theme amongst all of them:  sacrifice.  It's so awesome to watch as my friends' lives become more and more about their child.  It's evident how much these parents love their children.  It's evident when they begin giving things that they enjoy up because they desire more to be with their child at night.  Or when they give things up because they are saving money for the baby.  And then I look to this lady in town and I seriously question if she feels anything at all for that baby she carries around.  It seems like that child to her is just a way to tug on peoples' hearts to get more money from them.

I've been accused by a few older street boys of being selfish because I won't hand out money; they say that I have so much and won't help others.  But the truth is that when someone asks for help, I do help.  There is only one person I have peace about giving money for food to and that's my friend Peter that I took to the hospital in December.  Others, who want me to give them money or buy them food I take them to the schools for street kids that will feed them at no charge while proving a free education.  I don't believe that a constant hand out does any good.  In fact, it just ensures that someone remains dependent on me.  It may make me feel good that someone needs me, but it doesn't help them.  I know that I could buy this lady some bread when I see her.  I'm sure that I could afford that.  But would it do any good?  What she needs is an opportunity to support herself.  What her baby needs is a mother who is sober.  And this is what was offered and in turn refused.  As much as it may suck, there comes a point when you realize that you can only help the ones that actually want to be helped.  Right now, this lady doesn't want help.  I pray that one day she truly does want that help.  I pray that she sobers up and starts to be more that a walking stroller to her baby and becomes a mother.

But for now, I'll focus on those who are interested...

  

If we're friends, what is my name?

I love hanging out with the street boys here in Kenya.  But there are some that truthfully aren't interested in talking; they want your money and nothing more.  I see many kids like this all the time, and many adults who are no different.  They say things like, "my friend, buy for me bread".  Or, "my friend, buy the fruit I am selling".  As I was walking a few days ago I began to think about what a friend is.  Some of these people I have never seen before.  A kid called me friend and then told me to buy him bread the other day.  I asked him what my name was, because if we were friends, he would know.  Of course, he didn't know.  I explained to him that a friend is more than an open wallet.  A friend is not someone who just gives you things.  A friend is someone that you know.  A friend is someone who will talk to you.  This particular child had no more interest in talking.  He only wanted me to buy him things.  To me, that's not a friendship.  Another favorite example is the kid who was at one time taken off of the street and given food, clothing, a home and education.  He chose to return to the streets and beg.  When I questioned him on this he told me I was selfish and cursed me out.  A few days later he saw me and wanted to call me "friend" as he asked me for money again.

I have definitely made some friends with some of the street boys.  I think of Alex-Juma who every time he sees me runs over and gives me a hug.  The only thing he will ask for is if I have a ball in my bag so we can play catch.  Or sometimes for the checkers board.  He never once asked to keep anything.  When he calls me friend, he means it.  We talk.  We hang out and have built a relationship.

I think of Peter.  Peter is the young man that I took to the hospital after he was beaten up.  I see him in town and we talk.  He doesn't continue to ask for more and more.  He asks how I'm doing.  He tells me how his day is going.  Instead of asking me for money he tells me that he wants to give back to me when he has money.  I have to keep telling him that he doesn't need to; his friendship is all I want in return.  We were talking the other day and some other street boys came up to chat.  Peter looked at me and said we should walk away.  When we left he said that the other guys were pick pockets and he didn't want them to steal from me.  In other words, he was looking out for me.  That's a friendship.

When I think of friends from home, I think of guys like Jim that I've known since grade school.  He's a guy that I don't have to spend time with every week.  But when we hang out, we always have a great time.  He's a guy that I know I can call at any time.

When I think of a friend, I don't think of the people selling things from the street that don't even care what my name is.  I certainly don't think of the one who cursed me out.  I think of the one that will sit down and have a conversation.

I know that the word "friend" is used often, but for me, I want to be more meaningful when I use it.  When I call someone friend I want to mean it.  If I call you a friend, then I want to know you.  When I say friend, there is a commitment behind the word.

What makes you mad enough to act?

Some random thoughts:

Last week a few of us here watched the movie Patriot Games.  The other day as I was walking into town I was thinking about the dialogue between Harrison Ford and Samuel L. Jackson's characters.  As the film starts Ford, playing Jack Ryan, is in London and sees an attack on the royal family.  He comes out from behind the car he's ducking behind and takes down a few of the terrorists.  He's un armed, but manages to get one of their guns.  In the exchange he is shot in the shoulder.  Later on Jackson's charter asks him why he did it.  Compliments of IMDB, here's the exchange:

Lt. Cmdr. Robby Jackson: So, you just waded on in like John Wayne. Why'd you do it? What were you thinking, man? 
Jack Ryan: I don't know. I wasn't thinking. 
Lt. Cmdr. Robby Jackson: That's it? You sound like some of my students. 
Jack Ryan: It just pissed me off. I couldn't just stand there and watch him shoot those people right in front of me...Just made me mad. 

I really like Jack Ryan's reply.  It just made him mad.  It made him mad to see this group of terrorists killing people.  It made him angry enough to leap into action.  As I thought about those short lines I realized that many of my experiences in Kenya have a similar explanation.

As I walk through town I see so many things that don't sit well with me.  I see security guards that beat children with night sticks.  I saw many people standing by mocking as a young man was beaten half to death.  I saw a group of thieves stealing from people for more than 4 months straight.  It seems that in almost any direction I look there is some kind of oppression.  Police are taking bribes, innocent children are forced to the streets by parents that quite frankly shouldn't be parents, people are being oppressed.

We all, I think, have something in us that tells us that these things are wrong.  For me, I see these situations and on some level it makes me mad.  Mad enough to do something.  I can't stand by and simply watch some of these things and do nothing.

I think that there is a righteous anger that exists.  It's an anger at a situation that isn't right.  It's an anger that forces us to leap to action.  I see this level of oppression and it's the situation that angers me.  It's the attitudes that bother me.  We all have different passions.  We all have different things that make us mad.  We all also have a choice to make when we see an injustice.  We can  either sit by and allow it or to get up and do something about it.

What makes you mad enough to act?