Good Friday

It's the morning of Good Friday.

It's been a hectic week, trying to see as many of our children in their schools as possible, meeting the teachers, looking at their marks and encouraging them to study hard. Schools here have so little and yet everywhere we have been, without exception, the teachers have known our children well, the children have respected and liked them and the teachers have talked to us about the children's home situations. They care about them and it's so good to see.

We have heard from some of the children too. They have talked about school, about home life, about they things that they find good and enjoy and about the things that they find difficult.

We met Alex, a bright boy of about 16 years, in form 1 of secondary school. Bright in school things, but anything but bright in personality. Many of the children we have visited are smiling and happy to see us, absolutely delighted to be in school, but Alex looks different, the way he doesn't smile at you, the way he carries his shoulders as if there is a weight upon him. This isn't a boy bursting with hope. He is doing well in school and has made the transition from primary to secondary in a positive way.

But when he goes home, everything changes.

His mother died some years ago now. His father drinks too much, probably in order to get away from his work. He digs and empties long drop toilets. Possibly a contender for worst job in the world, ever. So he drinks.

Often to excess.

And when he drinks, things can turn nasty.

Alex has been beaten and chased from the house. He has been forced to help his father in his work, surely not the best or the healthiest thing for a teenage boy to be doing.

So when we meet Alex, he looks defeated. He loves his school, but the first thing he says to me when I ask him of we can do any more for him is “My shelter, it is so poor”. He continues to stare down at his feet, eye contact is as elusive as his forgotten childhood. He is only in school because of the Trust, he was forced to drop out and work for his father before we met with him at Kachok outreach and were able to help him with school fees.

Alex so desperately needs to move on

And then there is Ruth.

Ruth was one of 9 children we met at St. Pauls, Kanyakwar, near Mamboleo where we have a small house for 12 boys.

Ruth is 14 years old. She began to share with us something of her life story. She shared how, when she was 12 her mother became ill. Ruth can remember every detail of the week leading up to the night her mother died. She remembers where she went, the kind of juice she drank, every word her mother said to her as she lay in hospital, and then lay at home.

Her mother was taken ill one day, and went to hospital where she was admitted. Ruth doesn't know what the problem was. After two or three days Ruth's father began to plead with the hospital to release her. The bill was already 10,000 KSH (about £90) and the father knew that he couldn't afford even that, let alone any more. Ruth went to church and prayed and prayed for her to be released.

Eventually, later that day, she was and she came home. She lay on the sofa, weak and exhausted. A day or two passed, Ruth trying to help her mum as much as she could, her mum in return appearing bright and encouraging.

Until Monday night. Ruth's mum never woke up.

As she tells us her story she presses her hands to her eyes, crying, her tears so deep and heavy it is as if it was only yesterday.

She misses her mum a lot.

From that night onwards Ruth has cared for her six younger sisters. She has been their mum.

After school she arrives home at 6pm and her father leaves for work as a night watchman. He drinks too much, there is no food made, no washing or cleaning done. Ruth has to do that.

She makes food, if there is any available, for her sisters. Then she washes them, washes their clothes, cleans up and falls exhausted into bed at 11pm. She rises at 4am to prepare for the day, to get everyone ready for school and to finish off from the night before.

Ruth's has 6 sisters, one aged 12, twins of 8, then a 6, a 5 and a 3 year old. It is no life for a 14 year old girl. She had given up hope for herself and was trying to do the best for her sisters.

Since we met her Ruth has been going to school. She is doing her final year at primary school this year, sitting for her KCPE. For the last month or so we have moved her into a boarding school, so she has the very best chance possible of getting good results. Her only way out of this poverty is to complete her education. And she is a bright girl, capable of secondary school, university and a good job one day.

We have also put her sisters into school. Kazir, her eldest sister is in class 4 and the twins in class 2.

We are going to help them board at school as well. The boarding is run by a delightful lady who knows and loves the children. They eat 3 meals a day and have space to play and have fun.

Ruth's father's sister will look after the smaller ones, so they are not left alone at night.

Ruth's tears for her mum still walk with me as I visit other children and other schools. We are taking them out for the day on Wednesday, to visit the Kisumu impala park and then to eat fish by the lake. In fact, we are taking all of the girls in the different programs on this trip.

For Ruth and for Alex, and for hundreds of thousands of children like them, may their tears be heard and their hopes and their childhood be rekindled. May the old life die this Good Friday and may their new, risen, hopeful life begin in it's place. Surely that's what Easter is all about.

For God's sake, let's give Alex and Ruth a chance.