Tales from Nam Lolwe

Monday saw the spring equinox, when the sun is directly over the equator, when the days last from 6am to 6pm and life is at its hottest in Kisumu. Moses and I had travelled the roads of Nyanza and Western Provinces, meeting up with some of our older boys & girls, now young men and women.

But today, with the sun still high in the sky, burning down on the beautiful gardens of Sunset Hotel, we had planned to swim.

We arranged to meet at 11:00, to give the sun time to rise above the Yellow Oleander, the purple Jacaranda and the red Flame trees that line the grounds of the hotel and to warm the waters of the pool from the relative cool of the night air.

At midday they hadn’t arrived, so I went down and slipped into the pool. It was a perfect temperature. I swam through the calm waters, surreptitiously avoiding the many insects, both large and small, that had succumbed to the pools watery depths, enjoying a little down time in what had been a hectic week.

I swam a few lengths of the small pool, then stood for a while in the water, watching the many coloured birds in the trees above. Below the pool, beyond the grounds of the hotel, I watched a pair of zebra wander through the trees with a few small impala for company.

As I sat, submerged in the cool depths, I saw Moses and the children coming down the path at the hotel above. I waved and he waved back, then led the children down to the pool.

We paid the fee for visitors and the children quickly changed before heading into the shallow waters of the pools short end.

It was lovely to see them all. I had met a few of them at Kibos on Sunday when we had gone to church, but we had rushed away to get to Kachok, to attend the service there too, so I hadn’t spent time with the children at the house. Dennis and James, two of the more confident swimmers, were soon jumping from the diving board at the deep end of the pool, their splashes rippling across the water and drowning those who were paddling.

Malenya (or “Wayne” as he is known in the house, though nobody could tell me why!) is the smallest of the new boys at Kibos, he is 8 years old. Wayne lost his mum in a tragic accident when he was just five. She was lighting a paraffin stove to cook food for the family when the stove exploded and she was very badly burned. After a short while in hospital she died of her injuries, leaving Wayne alone. His father fled and hasn’t been seen since. We don’t know why he left, but it is an all too common occurrence that children are abandoned by single parents who can’t face the responsibility to bring them up.

Wayne went to live with a distance relative in Kondele, though he wasn’t put into school, the family making him work in the house, looking after their own, younger child. Regularly beaten when he got things wrong and forced to wander the dusty backroads of Kondele during the day, his plight became known to one of the boys that used to attend our outreach program, and who now runs a small kiosk selling fruit and vegetables. He spoke to Moses about him, concerned for his welfare.

Wayne began living with us earlier this year and is beginning to feel at home with the older boys. I was delighted to see his smiles and laughter as we played in the shallows of the pool. Later this year he will start school, in Class 1.

Griffins, by contrast, is already in Class 7 – he will do his KCPE next year. Griffins is a bright boy, with good English, and I was able to chat with him for a while. He is currently 6^th in his class of 130 children and is hoping for a good grade in his exams. He loves science and hopes, one day, that he could become a Doctor, but if not, then something in the medical profession.

This week I have met Collins, Mary and Daniel, all of whom started where Griffins is, and all of whom are now at university. It gives me confidence that a bright boy, with the right determination can also make it.

As the boys swam, so another familiar face arrived. Florence, another of the older children in the Trust, had come from her university in Eldoret to greet us, all smiles and happiness.

I had carried a gift for Florence from one of the Trust’s amazing supporters, a handmade blanket to give her warmth in the cool Eldoret nights. Florence was thrilled with the present, “No one has ever done something like this for me before” she said, a beaming smile across her face.

She is studying for a degree in Geography combined with special needs education. She will shortly go on an attachment at a school for the deaf and is busy learning the sign language for complex rock formations, which she will be teaching in a secondary school.

Kenyan’s never cease to amaze me with their ability to learn languages. Florence already speaks three – English, Kiswahili and the local tribal Luo. She has now added sign language to her many other gifts and abilities.

The boys played, splashed, jumped and dived in the warm pool for two or three hours, before Moses called them out to get dressed. A chicken dinner from the shacks in town was offered by way of temptation – and they ran to the changing rooms like matatus vying for an important customer!

We all jumped into Moses small Toyota (I say “jumped”, sardines spring to mind!), and set off for town.

This evening, as I sit on the balcony at the hotel, a cool breeze comes off the hills surrounding the lake and flashes of lightening crack through the dark clouds, gathering to bring night time rain. The sun slowly sets the sky ablaze with golden light as it sinks into the watery depths of Lake Victoria.

One evening this week, as we had been driving, Moses had told me an old Luo story he had heard from his Mother when he was young. It spoke of "Nam Lolwe", the local name for Lake Victoria, from a time well before British explorers first thought of heading down the Nile.

“There was an old man”, he began, “who lived on the shores of Nam Lolwe. He didn’t possess a penny. The mice in his house held a meeting and all agreed that, even they, should move out.

His home was empty.

Then one day an old woman came to his house. They became friends and, after some time, she moved in. The old man’s fortunes began to improve, they kept a few chickens, then goats and then, even, some cattle.

One evening they argued, no one knows what it was over, but the argument was fierce. The woman threatened to leave and to take all of the animals with her. “You can’t take them,” the old man said, “It is me that has brought them here!” And with that, he threw the old woman from the house.

In the evening light she was seen walking down to the lake, singing an old, traditional song. 

As she sang, the animals, one by one, began to follow her, leaving their fields and their enclosures.

She walked, slowly, into the lake, the animals behind until all were lost to Nam Lolwe”.

“It isn’t a very happy story, is it?” I complained to Moses.

“My mother used to tell it to us as we sat by the fire in the compound at home” he replied, 

“She told us that we must never forget those who help us along our way”.

I have been delighted to meet, this week, with some of the older children who the Trust has been supporting in their journey to an independent life and future. They will forever be part of our family and I am proud to know them.

I am grateful too, to the many supporters of the Trust who have made their stories possible, who have “helped us along our way”, giving them a bright future.

Today I met with Wayne, Griffins, James, Dennis, Norbert, Ben and Maurice. The next generation of children in our family. I hope and pray for their futures too – may they know the fullness of life. 

Thank you for all you support.

We Don't Listen ...

Today dawned hot. The rains of last night had cleared and blue skies greeted me as I pulled back the curtains and looked out over the great lake before me. It was going to be a good day.

I sat on the terrace and wrote my blog entry for yesterday, recalling our perilous journey over a rickety bridge and our visit to Noah, which still sent a warm feeling into my soul. As I wrote one of the hotel staff cleaned the terrace around me and monkeys jumped on the tables and chairs, dodging all attempts to impale them with the wet end of a 6ft mop.

Moses arrived, a requisite hour later than we had agreed and we jumped into the car for short journey to Maseno. We were planning to visit Mary, a student in her first year at the university, studying Business Administration.

Mary, and her brother Atenas (who is also now at university in South Eastern Kenya), came to the Trust a number of years ago. 

They were attending St Pauls, Mamboleo, one of the schools that we have been able to place our children in and with whom we maintain a good relationship. Our social worker, John, had been talking with the head teacher at the time and she had told him of two children that really needed help. They were living alone with an elderly grandparent, struggling to make ends meet and unable to put in the time they needed at school to realise their potential. John looked into their situation and recommended that we help support the two of them through their studies. We were delighted to do so.

Mary got excellent marks in her KCPE and went on to achieve a B grade at KCSE which qualified her for a student loan at the prestigious Maseno university.

Moses and I chatted away as we drove the half hour journey to Maseno along the busy airport road and then up through the hills that line the edge of the vast lake basin. Maseno is situated right on the equator – though I have never understood why you would locate a university at a place of no degrees?

We turned from the main road onto a small dirt track, which we followed for half a mile or so, before turning into a large blue gate that marked the entry to the halls of residence. 

Moses called Mary who came to meet us. Her smiles and laughter lifted our spirits after the hot journey and we walked with her as she showed us to her room, which she shares with 5 other girls. Mary began the year doing economics, but soon changed to Business Administration, where she feels there are better work prospects.

We walked for a little around the grounds of the campus, Mary kindly leading us through the shadier parts, to protect my ever reddening forehead from the tropical sun. I was grateful for her thoughtfulness and delighted to hear that she is enjoying her course and studying hard.

Moses asked (a little parentally I thought), about the temptations of a mixed campus.

“Boys are not allowed in girls rooms from 10 until 10” Mary replied “they have to be out of rooms by 10pm and not be there before 10 in the morning – the janitors come round and check!” The penalty, apparently, as it is for cheating in an exam, is an appearance before the university disciplinary committee and a 1,001 day suspension!

We walked past a large sports ground, lined with tall leafy trees, providing much needed respite from the sun.

“Do you play sports?” I asked her, “I do”, she replied, then lowering her voice so Moses couldn’t hear, she continued “I like rugby, though it can get a bit rough when it is mixed teams!”

“I get a lot of exercise just from walking the 3 kilometres between my hall and the lectures” she said, her voice back to normal levels.

Late in the afternoon we left Mary, all smiles and laughter, and headed back to Kisumu. We had one last meeting to make. Jared is another lovely, humble young man from our program. 

Though he completed his primary school KCPE exams, he didn’t go on to secondary school, choosing instead to find himself work. He learned to drive motorbikes, the staple of the local Boda Boda (bicycle taxi) industry in Kisumu.

Motorbikes are everywhere these days and Jared has been renting time with one to make a living. He operates out of Mamboleo, looking for customers at the busy junction with the Kakamega road, which we had followed when we visited Collins a couple of days earlier. Jared works from 7am to 7pm and on a good day, he says, he can earn up to 1,000 shillings (£8) - enough to pay for the bike, to pay his rent, to have food and to save a little for repairs and expenses.

One of the Trust’s supporters, touched by meeting with Jared on a visit to Kisumu, has raised funds for him to have a motorbike of his own and we had arranged to meet him at the Honda showroom where he showed us the one that he has set his heart on.

He was truly thrilled to be blessed with such a gift and is intent on working hard to give himself a future.

As we had set off for Maseno this morning we had stopped for some fuel at a garage in Kisumu. Whilst the attendant filled the car I noticed a small green sign on top of the pump.

“What is that saying?” I asked Moses.

“Aah”, he replied, “that is the code to pay for your fuel by Mpesa. You know, you can pay for almost anything using your phone these days”.

I was impressed.

“And what is that small red sign next to it?” I asked, pointing to a red picture of a mobile phone with a white line through it, affixed to the post next to the pump.

“That means don’t use your mobile phone in the petrol station” Moses replied. Then, realising the contradiction in the two signs he burst out laughing.

“But that is Kenya”, he said through his smiles, “we don’t listen when someone tells us we can’t do something!”

That is true, in my experience, on a number of levels, but no more so than with the children of the Trust.

If you have stress when you dance like this ….

I woke to a refreshing breeze coming off Lake Victoria. I had slept fitfully, dogs barked in nearby compounds, hippo’s grunted amongst the shallow water hyacinth and bullfrogs maintained a steady chorus of calls throughout the night. I wandered downstairs (the lifts, inevitably, are “out of order”) and into the dining room of the hotel for breakfast. A smiling face greeted me. “Welcome back Tim”, she said, “we have missed you”.

This is why I like coming to Sunset. It is a hotel whose best days seem to be behind it, but the grounds are lush with tropical trees and foliage, brightly coloured birds sing amongst the purple jacarandas and monkeys wander through the trees from the nearby park. But most of all, it’s the people. There is always a smile, always a greeting and it always feels nice. The chef cooked me an egg, “Fried”, she said, “but softly”. It reminded me of my English skin in the equatorial sun – fried, but softly!

Refreshed by hot tea and toast, I sat on the terrace and waited for Moses, who collected me exactly on the regulation 20 minutes after the time we had agreed.

We took to the dusty streets of Kisumu, making our way through the busy market traffic to Kibos. There has been a revolution in the roads in Kisumu. Chinese contractors have built new flyovers connecting the airport road with Nairobi road and with Kondele, the busy suburb we pass through on route to our home in Kibos. It saves many minutes of fighting through aggressive matatu drivers and avoiding stray tuk tuks wondering across the roads to avoid pot holes and speed bumps (it always amuses me how people fly over the speed bumps but slow down and edge cautiously around the potholes). Maybe the council has a strategy! As I say, it saves many minutes – or it would do if people actually used the right side of the road, didn’t jump out of every junction, didn’t pile their motorcycles and boda bodas with every conceivable and improbable item of furniture.

Thirty minutes after the agreed time we arrived in Kibos. It didn’t matter, it never does, it’s just my Englishness that understands time in a different dimension and tries to adhere to it. 

Maybe I will learn, one day!

We entered the church at Kibos and I walked towards my usual seat at the front right of the church, greeting familiar faces and new friends as I arrived.

Then Nellie got up, Benson took his place on the keyboard, Moses on the guitar and the music started. And the praise started. And the dancing started. And the time … well, it didn’t matter. Nellie has sung worship in the church ever since it was started, around 12 years ago. I love her passion and her movement, she sings with her whole body, the rhythm is projected in her song and in her dance and it is infectious. Moses once told me that I dance “like a muzungu (a white man - I don't think it was a complement!)”, but I don’t care, I clap and, when I recognise a song, I sing along too.

Then Moses took the microphone and began to sing, clap, dance, jump around and everything else. He must have been cooking in his suit, (perhaps softly!), but he led worship with joy. “you cannot dance like this and have stress”, he cried out through the microphone, “if you dance like this and have stress you will need 50 litres of anointing oil!”. I laughed and laughed.

When the worship was done I greeted the church, passed love and thoughts from all in the UK, from Pam and from Nicky, from Harry and Madeleine, who went last year, from Rebekah, who's raising money for an outdoor classroom, from the members of Ackworth Boys Brigade who will be going out again in October (they can’t wait to see you again!), they were joyful to know that they are in our thoughts and our prayers. And suddenly it felt, well, less like a trip and more like a family.

I preached a message from Matthew 5 and Moses led us in prayer. Two men who had come for the first time then greeted the church (visitors always get invited to the front to say hello). The said who they were, that this was their first time, that they were not “born again” but they have heard God speak to them and they would like to be, so Moses and I prayed with them. I felt really moved. My family has two more members.

We rushed from the church and jumped in the car again, this time bound for Kachok.

Kachok is the little tin shed church by the municipal rubbish dump in Kisumu. The very first time Nicky and I went to Kisumu we visited the dump and heard the stories of the men and boys who scavenge there, eking out what living they can from the plastics, bottles and metals discarded by others. 

It is a disconcerting place to walk into if you are not familiar with it. The hut is alive with flies, tapping out every worship rhythm, dancing around your feet and buzzing out their own songs.

But it is also a very moving place and, as I entered, familiar faces greeted me – John, Cosmas, Gurang, Daniel, Kevin, Mary, people I have met with here over many years, whose presence is a testimony to belonging to a place and serving a particular people.

Moses led us in worship again, the tin hut alive with song, with clapping and dancing. I greeted the people again, bringing news from the UK and a word from the bible. Then John invited Daniel to share a testimony.

I have written about Daniel before when I visited him at Moi on his first year at University as he was settling in. He is a wonderful young man. We met him when he was 12 years old, a street boy, finding food where he could. John had taken him under his wing and tried to help him and both Nicky and I met with him at Kachok fellowships over a number of visits. We agreed to support him through the Trust, first at primary and then at secondary school. 

Life has been hard for Daniel. His mother suffered a stroke when he was young and has struggled to support him. She is now in hospital and has been there for almost 6 weeks, having suffered a relapse. Daniel appealed to the local MP, who has helped with the hospital fees, but things have not been easy.

Daniel excelled at secondary school, gaining really good grades in his KCSE and is now in his final year at Moi University. Every week he comes back to this little church at the dump, to the place where his life changed. He shares his stories, he encourages the younger children, helps to serve the food and drink to those who turn up to the church. He is working hard, hoping to gain a scholarship to do a masters. I hope and pray with all my heart that he succeeds. “I want to thank you people for all that you have done for me”, he says, “if you hadn’t believed in me I wouldn’t be where I am. I know that your blood does not flow in my veins, but you have treated me like your son and I am grateful”.

In the Isaiah Trust we believe that our family is broad, that we are brothers and sisters together, irrespective of the distance between us or the colour of our skin. I might dance like a muzungu, but my brothers are African.

And no, I don’t need all that anointing oil. Not after today.