Thunderstorms on Tin Rooves

The rain pounded on the tin roof of the small hut in the corner of Kisumu’s main sports stadium. Inside, the noise was deafening. It didn’t matter.

We were worshipping God, singing praises songs, 25 or so of us in that little hut under a blackened sky. The heavens occasionally lit up as we sang and the thunder provided the bass notes for our small ensemble. 

Outside the hut raindrops hit the floor like a frantic percussionist, accompanying every note with two dozen beats of his tightly drawn drums. Inside, Moses was leading, with his guitar, and our regular mixture of old and young voices lifted our worship back heavenward. Maybe we were out of tune and God had a cunning plan to drown us out (or drown us literally!). Or maybe, I prefer to think, heaven wanted to join in. Whatever the answer, we were happy.

It is always a pleasure to visit Kachok, the fellowship we started by the rubbish tip many years ago. Today we had a good reason to celebrate, as two of the older boys here, Collins and Wycliffe have just completed their secondary School (Form 4) exams. Collins is predicted an A or a high B grade, and has already applied to universities in the hope that he might start next year.

Kachok always humbles me. The assembly is a mixture of men who work the rubbish dump daily, in search of things to sell for some small income accompanied by children of varying ages from the surrounding slums of Manyatta and Nyalenda. Attendance was lower than usual tonight, a result, no doubt, of the foreboding skies overhead. But those who came were warm and fulsome in their welcome and genuine in their prayers of blessing for me, Nicky, the Trust and all our supporters, who are enabling them to see changes in the lives of the people of their fellowship.

Earlier this morning I completed my week of visits to boys we are supporting in training. I have avoided schools, as KCPE exams are to be held next week and Form 4's have completed this week, but it has been a pleasure meeting up with some of the children we have supported for many years, who are now taking their first independent steps into the world. 

Derek Kiperenge is an apprentice motorcycle mechanic in Serem, just over the border into Rift Valley province.  His trainer and mentor is full of his praises. Derek has been training for three months and already his trainer says that he will not need a full two years apprenticeship. Even now he can strip down an engine and reassemble it (working).

Derek is proud of what he is doing and very happy in his work. Like so many of the boys I have seen on this trip he struggled with academic work. After coming to us in 2005 he returned to primary school, but dropped out after struggling to fit in and failing badly in his end of year exams. Derek is far from stupid though, and has taken to his apprenticeship with a positive outlook and good intent. I am sure that he will do us proud.

We then continued on the road to Chavakali, through the steep sided valleys and tea plantations that cling to the hillsides, carved in steep step formations, crowned with small traditional houses. Vincent is less than two weeks into an apprenticeship in metalwork and welding after spending some time on our rehabilitation centre in Kibos. It is early days for him and we wished him well.

I have come to know the pot holed roads of Nyanza and Western Provinces very well this week and was grateful when Moses suggested we call at Kibos on the way back to town for a cup of tea.

There is something very refreshing about tea in a hot climate and I never refuse when it is offered. I suppose that makes me very British, but I have to say that the Kenyans always join in with me.

Kenyan tea (picked from the co-operatives and hillsides around Kericho, Nyanza and Western Provinces), is made with milk, not water, and is usually drunk with copious spoonfuls of the locally produced Mumias sugar.

Whilst not my preferred way of taking it, I have got used to wringing out the teabag so that there is at least a hint of colour in my cup before I drink.

The tea was brought to us by Florence, a very quietly spoken girls one of a handful of young women we now care for at Kibos.

I talked with her as we drank our tea. Florence has been dogged by stomach pains. Each time she has been to the doctors, or to the hospitals, they have diagnosed ulcers – a common complaint in this part of Kenya. However each time they give her treatment the pain eases for a very short time before returning. A number of foods upset her and make it worse and she tells me that the school refuse to make special meals for her, despite repeated requests from Moses and the team. Although she enjoys the school she is in, she asks if she could move to one that might be more flexible.

Florence is one of a small number of girls at Kibos, all of them now in secondary schools around the region. Florence is bright, but is concerned because her illness makes her miss class and she then struggles to catch up.

We talked and agreed a plan of action, to try and get to the bottom of what is causing the problems.

From Kibos we headed down the road, to Chiga, a small community on the dirt road beyond the rehabilitation centre, where we turned back towards town. We stopped after a couple of kilometres at the home of Boniface.

Of all of the people I have met and worked with in my time in Kenya, Boniface has changed the most, from a fiery, threatening, short tempered fire ball, to a calm family man, carrying a bible and training to be a pastor. Although he has invited me many times I have never before visited his home and didn’t want to miss the opportunity.

We entered his house, a square, traditional mud house that is clearly well maintained and looked after, with an iron sheet roof sitting on a small plot of land surrounded by vegetables, maize and beans. Boniface welcomes us warmly and we sit on the wooden sofas arranged around the walls of the living room. His wife sits next to him, and he introduces his father, who sits at one end of the room by the door. We talk about his children, his new life, his wife says what a change there has been in him.

Boniface shares a little of his past. Born in Mwanza, Tanazania, he came to Kisumu with his father as a baby, the third born in a large family. His mother and father had 12 children, but there is only him, an older sister and a younger brother now surviving. It has clearly been a hard life, with many setbacks, culminating with him scraping a living from the things other people throw away.

Boniface has turned his life around, leaving the rubbish tip for the vegetable plot, the fiery temper for the cry of the preacher. Derek has moved on too, from street boy to mechanic, I know that he will be successful. Florence has her own dreams before her, all is yet to come, we just need to sort out her illness first.

Starting a work is good, but then you begin to imagine the future, to wonder what will happen to the first boys, the second boys. Where will you be in 5 or 10 years time.

Now, after 11 years of the Trust, we are starting to see the real fruits of the work appearing, men, women and children moving on to new lives, starting to be independent of the Trust and to stand on their own feet it is wonderful.

However hard the storm, though the tin roof may be dented, our hopes for the children we support will not be dashed.

If you have been touched by any of the stories I have shared this week, please remember that it costs less than £10 a month over two years to support an apprenticeship. If you would like to help, visit our just giving page, or talk to Nicky or myself for a regular giving form

Tomorrow I leave for Nairobi and the journey home. I have a couple of meetings before I go and it will be sad to leave. But I will carry "sackfuls of blessings" from the people I have met and look forward to returning in the Spring.