Rebuilders of Broken Walls

I wondered down to the front of the hotel, hoping that the taxi had arrived and was waiting to carry me back, through the dusty, noisy Nairobi traffic to what remains of Jomo Kenyatta International Airport.

The airport was largely destroyed by fire and facilities can only be described as temporary. 

Where the arrivals hall once stood there is now nothing but plans for rebuilding. I sailed through arrivals last night, my visa stamped and my passport checked within half an hour of getting off the plane. A temporary arrivals hall and baggage collection facility has been created in a hangar and it worked beautifully last night.

Out of the ashes of the airport, with its bustling shops and long queues is the possibility to make it new. And that’s exciting.

Wycliffe, my taxi driver, had indeed arrived on time. It is always a relief to see a smiling face whisk my bags into the boot and jump efficiently into the driving seat of a newly washed car.

We talked on the way to the airport.

He is from Migori, south of Kisumu, but came to Nairobi looking for work. His parents couldn’t afford for him to go to High School, though it remained his dream.

When he arrived in Nairobi he took some menial jobs and saved some small funds until he was able to take a driving course, after which he began to be employed by one of the many airport taxi companies who ply their trade between the airport and the city hotels.

In between driving, Wycliffe studied. Part time, at home, after a long shift, he got out his books and began his learning.

This year, he told me, he has taken his KCSE secondary school exams.

He is hoping for a C+, or perhaps even a B-. Either would qualify him to join a college course.

I hope and pray that he gets his grades, I hope and pray that he finds a college course to accept him.

He told me that in church on Sunday they talked about Nehemiah, that God would reward those who do good work. I said that Nehemiah rebuilt the broken walls of a city, but that with many hands. People came together to build, craftsmen, artisans, labourers and priests,  each man standing and building the piece that was in front of them. It was hard work, but slowly by slowly the whole city came together. W talked about education, that for many it is a wall that is broken, a dream in ruins. But some don’t give up. If each man and woman in the city began to rebuild their own piece of that wall, with his commitment and dedication, then Kenya would be a different country. Surely that would be a reward.

He dropped me off at the domestic terminal and I walked in, to check in for the short flight to Kisumu.

Inside stood 6 new automated touch screen check in kiosks, one of which effectively and efficiently printed and presented me with a boarding card. The large South African gentleman stood next to me was as surprised as I was. 

“Good God”, he exclaimed, “it worked!”

It is easy to make a judgement on a place based on past experiences, but for Wycliffe, for the many children in our care that I am hoping to visit over the next few days, perhaps it’s a case of simply looking at what is broken in front of us, and starting to rebuild, brick by brick, child by child, man and woman by man and woman. And when you start to look, you see the shoots all around.

I arrived in Kisumu this afternoon and sat with Moses and Paul James on the hotel terrace, enjoying a cup of tea in the afternoon sun and the easy conversation that comes from meeting up with old and trusted friends.  We planned out the few days ahead, visiting children, going to the outreach and following up on the apprentices I visited on my last trip.

I hope to see more new shoots, springs of water in desert places, hope in the streets of this city.

“And you will be called the rebuilders of broken walls” – Isaiah 58:12