Is this the 4th floor or the 5th?

The lift in the hotel has been playing up.

I should have known when, on the day I arrived, my bags were taken by Joseph, one of the hotels many efficient employees, and I was led to the lift.

We entered, and Joseph pressed the button for the fourth floor.

Some few moments later the doors creaked open. “Ah, its ok” he said, “we can walk down from here” and he marched off, clutching my case, to the stair well just in front of us.

I followed dutifully, wondering if I was just tired from the journey and hadn’t noticed that he had pressed the wrong floor.

But no.

Every morning after breakfast and every evening since then, when I arrive back from my travels, I press the button for the fourth floor, only to land inexplicably on the fifth.

I have accepted the quirks with patience and resignation. It’s just what happens around here sometimes!

This morning we had arranged to go and see two of our students in secondary school. Ruth is in Form 2, but has been struggling at secondary, since she got excellent marks in her KCPE (primary school exams). Lorine has been part of our program for the last 6 or 7 years, a really popular, lively member of the Kibos family.

I had arranged for Moses and John Odhiambo (one of our social workers who works particularly with some of the girls in the education program) to pick me up at 10:30.

Sure enough on the dot of 11:30 Moses arrived and we set off to town. We went to Nakumat to buy bag fulls of supplies – soap, bread, juice, sugar, hair creams and more. Lorine had lost her gum boots, so we stopped by the Bata shop to get some replacements “Size 8” said Moses, “Are you sure” John and I cried back at him? “That’s enormous!” We settled on something a little smaller, and headed out of town.

The schools are both on the road to Maseno, along the lake shore, west towards the Uganda border.

The road, as with many in Kenya, is riddled with potholes, bumps and police check points, but eventually we made it to Archbishop Okoth High School for Girls, where Ruth has been studying for the last 15 months.

I wrote about Ruth a year or two back. Her story really touched my heart. Her mother died when she was 12, leaving her to bring up her young family whilst her father, a drunkard, contributed little to the home. We made arrangements for her brothers and sisters to be helped and supported and then paid for Ruth to be a boarder for her last two, important years of primary school, where she flourished

She passed her KCPE exams with excellent marks and we had high hopes for her doing well at Secondary school.

She greeted us with warm hugs and smiles as we sat outside the Principals office and we talked with her about her new school. She likes the school and has made new friends, but she has been struggling to keep up with the work and her marks have fallen away.

We talked with her form teacher, who had known her in the first year as well. He went through her marks and it was clear that when she was in school she was doing well, but when she came back from a holiday she hadn’t managed to get her studies done.

I talked with John. It seems that when she goes home she spends her time looking after her siblings again and only studies when she is back at school.

We need to give her some more support at home, to help her find time to study.

From Ruth’s school we travelled on to meet with Lorine. She is a girl full of joy at finding herself in a good secondary school, one she would never have dreamed of. A total orphan, her father and mother died when she was 8 years old and she has been part of our program ever since.

And she has blossomed.

Her teachers Knew her instantly, in spite of the fact that she has only been in school for 2 months – “oh Lorine Okoth, ah yes, she is a good student and a happy girl”

I can truly hope for no more than that. I don’t expect that the children will set the world alight academically, just that they find who they are and are happy and fulfilled.

We headed back to Kisumu, and to our outreach program at the city rubbish dump, Kachok.

We meet in a dusty, fly ridden hut on the edge of the city stadium by the rubbish dump.

But you couldn’t hope for a more inspiring place.

Moses led worship, a wonderful time of harmony and song. We had many testimonies tonight to the power of God to change lives. Boys and men who have been with us over the last 10 years and whose lives have changed as a result.

Samson talked of his new home, how he has been resettled, how he has left a life of scavenging on the tip for a farm, a wife and a new family. He has goats, cows and “more than 10 chickens” and has fresh milk for tea every morning.

Cosmas talked of his new home where he has just settled. He talked of the life he used to have and of his new life now. After years of struggling he is finally at peace with himself

Haggard and Isaiah shared about their happiness at completing their secondary school exams and getting their KCSE certificates, of how they never dreamed that would be possible.

And then Romanas stood up. A small man with a wonderful presence and charisma. “I praise God” he said. “I praise God because of the man that I have become. I used to be a drug seller, I used to deal in drugs around this whole area. But I came to the program and it changed me. When I met with Jesus Christ I went home and burnt all of the drugs in a big fire. I have not touched them since”

There was loud applause.

After the meeting I talked with some of the children from Kachok just starting Form 1 at secondary school, Elizabeth, Jeffrey & Jared. I talked with Naphtali, who has some land at home and who would like to follow in the footsteps of Samson.

I talked with children with hope and belief in the eyes because of those who have gone before.

And I wondered, perhaps, just sometimes, I have pressed the button for the 4^th floor, only for God to deliver us to the 5^th. Samson, Cosmas, Haggard, Isaiah and Romanas have found that when you hope and when you trust, then you can go beyond what you thought might be possible.

It was a good day in the Isaiah Trust.

It’s like two elephants fighting

I was in town this morning.

Moses had got back late last night from the funeral in Bungoma and hadn’t surfaced yet. I didn’t want to waste the morning, so I walked to the top of the small road outside the hotel and caught a boda boda into town.

Boda boda’s are fun and/or scary. It entirely depends on your driver.

The basic principle is a simple one. You take a bicycle, add a cushion onto the back and lo – you have a bicycle taxi.

They originated at the Kenya – Uganda border in Busia, a couple of hours drive from Kisumu, where a half mile stretch of road spanned the two border controls.

The paperwork required to operate vehicles in the no-mans land between the two was prohibitive, as anyone who has done paperwork in modern day Africa will surely testify. So there sprang up an opportunity for enterprising bicycle owners to ferry people Border-to-Border.

That’s the history lesson over.

Today’s bicycle taxi’s owe less to the colonial era and more to the 50cc engines of the Japanese. Pedal power has given way to petrol and the Kisumu’s busy streets are testament to their popularity.

Finding no bicycle available, I opted for the motorised boda boda and settled into the comfortable seat behind the driver. For just 50 bob (about 35p) in under 5 minutes we were in town, at Nakumatt Nyanza, one of a popular chain of supermarkets across Kenya.

I made my way through the busy plaza and crossed the street outside to the small shopping mall where the foreign exchange bureau is housed.

Half an hour later, after a quick walk around some of the shops to pick up a bottle of water and a newspaper I made my way down the main street to the cyber cafe and coffee house.

The iced coffee here is lovely. Rich icy bitter espresso topped with melting sweet vanilla ice cream. Just what 30 degrees demands.

As I sat reading the paper my phone buzzed a text message. It was from Moses “Am at Sunset”.

Great.

I have waited two days to see Moses and just as I come to town he shows up at the hotel!

He swiftly agreed to come over and meet me over a soda and soon we were catching up on the past few months since I last came. We made plans for the things we need to do over the next few days and the pople we need to see.

My phone buzzed again, it was Kennedy, inviting us to a meeting at 2:30 in his offices.

Kennedy Owiti is our lawyer in Kisumu. We seem to manage to keep him fairly busy, with land purchases, rent agreements and legal disputes,

He is also a really nice man and meeting with him is always a pleasure.

Moses and I made our way to his 7^th floor offices overlooking the lake at the top of the main street. We needed to discuss our lease agreement.

Last year our landlady died. We have rented the rehabilitation centre in Kibos since 2004 and have never missed a rent payment. Unfortunately, as appears to often be the case in Kenya, the legal position is less than straight forward. Two parties are claiming the rights to the rent – the relatives of the deceased lady and the relatives of her previously deceased husband.

“I see your problem”, said Ken astutely, “It is like two elephants fighting - only the grass suffers”

I know how the grass feels.

“Is there any chance of you moving out and leaving them to resolve it?” Ken asked.

If you want to know the answer to that, you may have to read yesterday’s blog post.

Perhaps I need faith more urgently than I thought I did.

As we walked out of Ken’s office I noticed the signs for Kisumu’s university campus. My thoughts turned to our students, to those we support in college. I asked Moses which campus our students were at.

“Truphena is here in Kisumu” he said, “I will see if she is around”

Moses called Truphena, and we agreed to meet for a soda at Nakumat Mega, a large shopping mall 5 minutes drive away.

Truphena looked so well, as delighted to see us as we were to see her.

She is currently studying special needs education at college in Maseno with practical lessons in Kisumu. You only need to see her face to know how much she loves it.

Truphena’s journey has not always been an easy one. She has faced many challenges, has poor health and could easily give up. But her heart is big and her desire to help those less privileged shines through what she says and what she does.

It made me think that, perhaps the grass may suffer sometimes, but it always renews itself. It finds a way of standing tall after the storms, of reaching for the skies in spite of the trials that come its way.

The elephants may fight, but the grass wont suffer for long.

A Delay is not a Denial

I woke this morning to the familiar blue skies of equatorial Africa. Black kites circled overhead and a fish eagle settled into the branches of the tall tree by the Lake shore.

Outside my fourth floor window the lilac flowers of the jacaranda trees attracted sunbirds, bulbuls and vireo’s, eager for a sweet breakfast of nectar. The cool breeze of last night had given way to stillness and a warm peace.

Paul James had arranged for me to picked up at 10:00, to go down to church in Kibos.

Sure enough, on the dot of 10:45, Paul James arrived to collect me.

Kisumu’s streets were busy this morning. The largest outdoor market in East Africa happens every Sunday afternoon on the road to Kondele. The streets are lined with sheets, pillowcases and towels, pegged on makeshift washing lines, strung between the tall trees to show them off to potential sellers (they must get so dusty it’s a wonder anyone ever buys them!). In front of the cotton backdrop are lines of roadside sellers. A woman with her young son sorts through piles of shoes looking for the right size. Next to her hang Arsenal and Man Utd shirts, bright and red in the sun (authentic the stall holder swears - though probably not!). The next stall sells furniture, three piece suites, large wooden sofas and chairs. Next a coffin maker, a welder and a barber working side by side.

The roads by the market were bursting with matatu’s, beeping heir horns, their drivers shouting and slowly edging their vans into the best position before unloading their sweaty payload into the greedy jaws of the market stalls. “Do not wash”, it said on the side of one of the dustiest matatu “Scientific dirt experiment in progress”. I am sure it physically impossible for a matatu to go in a straight line, or indeed for a regular car ever to get past one.

The journey to church this morning was slower than usual!

It is 10 years since we founded the church on the two and a half acre plot by the side of the dusty mud road in Kibos. I love to go, and look forward to Sundays there with my church family.

Moses is away at the moment, back at his home, attending the funeral of his sister who died of breast cancer last month. This morning’s service was taken by the church Pastor, Hesbon, with a guest preacher from Migosi Church, who has been helping all week with a church revival outreach.

Pastor Paul Otieno was a lovely man, with a powerful voice and a passion for God. He preached from his heart on Hebrews 11. He talked of patience, of waiting, of faithfulness and righteousness. A delay is not a denial he said, of prayer and faithfulness. Sometimes God gives you a picture of what he is going to do, but it might take some time for it to happen.

While we wait, we are to be faithful and worship.

Pastor Paul really spoke to me in his message.

Ever since we first came to Kenya we have had a vision for a children’s village. Not a big orphanage, not an institution, but somewhere where our family can live and grow together. We have laid the foundations, dug the drainage on the land, brought in power and connected the electricity to the church and the rehabilitation centre which we rent..

But we have not yet had the capital funds available to start our own building.

We have a passion and a faith in our hearts. But, so far, we have no bricks.

But a delay is not a denial.

I found myself believing with some certainty this morning, as we sang and worshipped together, that this will all be here one day.

After church I walked around the land. I stopped and looked, seeing in my heart the houses and the village that are already here in faith, but not yet in practice.

And I am more sure that one day we will build.

On my way out of church I stopped to talk with Isaiah. Isaiah is one of the boys we work with. In December he completed his KCSE, graduating from high school.

I asked him what he was hoping to do next.

“I want to do a college course in ICT” he told me. He had been down to the college to ask about entry and enrolment for the first year certificate course starting in April

We do not have the funds for his college, but if I believe for a village, then I have faith enough for college fees too. My time here has taught me to trust and believe, to seek in order to find.

A delay is not a denial.

Because with faith, you and I can move mountains.

It's that time again

I leave for Kenya this morning.

I should arrive in Kisumu, to the familiar sites and smells of the lakeside town, sometime tomorrow afternoon.

It should be an interesting trip.

It has been over 10 years since Nicky and I first went out to Kisumu, since we first walked around the dusty streets and onto the rubbish tips of the town.

We want to spend a little time, along with Moses and Paul James, reviewing the work and thinking about our original calling and vision.

For me, God spoke very clearly from Isaiah 58: -

"(I want you) to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter— when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?"

Whenever things have faltered or seemed beyond us in that time I have held on to the promise of verse 11: -

"The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. "

Whe I first read it I knew it was for me. I knew that God was reassuring me about this work and about His hand upon it. I knew that this was something I would work on with Him.

There have been many times over the last 10 years when I have felt challenged. Times when people have tried to take money, hard earned money, meant for orphans, for their own benefit. We have sacked people, been abused by people, been deceived, attended court and been threatened.

But we have also seen children blossom in the hands of God. Street children, the most vulnerable, needy, helpless children in God's kingdom healed and made new by His grace,

We have seen children who lived on the streets complete secondary schools, children with nothing walk tall.

We have never had lots of money, but we have always had enough.

We have never been rich in earthly wealth, but we are rich in our inheritance.

On this trip there are issues that need resolving.

Our landlady of our main home in Kibos died last year and different relatives are claiming the rights to the rental income. I have meetings planned with our lawyer, to understand Kenyan inheritance rights, and then with the families.

I also plan to visit some of the children who, in January, made the leap from primary to secodnary school. It is a big step for them, and financially for us also (primary schooling support costs are about £50 per year, compared to more like £500 for secondary school children)

I am also hoping to get up to our new 10 acre farm, to meet our new farm manager and to talk about a sustainable program of farming that will supply, not only food for the ongoing work, but also help to provide an income and training for some of the older street boys we work with.

Nicky arrives on Thursday, and we hope to spend a little time together reflecting on what has been built since those first tentative steps more than 10 years ago.

We had an interesting evening in church last night with Holly bush fellowship, from near Thirsk in North Yorkshire. Their pastor, Jim Wilkinson, has an incredible testimony about God's blessing and goodness on their fellowship.

One thing he said struck me in particular.

If it's not a work of God, he said, then I would give it no mor than two years, before the effort of keeping something going would fail. But if God has called you to something, then he will strengthen and sustain it.

It chimed with me, with my promise from Isaiah 58:11 - "He will satisfy your needs ... he will strengthen your frame".

I am looking forward to seeing everyone again in Kisumu, to resolving problems and to looking forward to new visions and directions.

I will try to update the blog throughout the trip, but please bear with me if it is not every day, as wifi and electricity are not always consistent.



If you would like to suppor the work of the Trust, please go to www.isaiahtrust.org.uk

Mungu akubarike sana, Bwana Asifiwe

This Afternoon I was Powerless

In Kisumu this afternoon I was powerless.

Moses, Paul James and I

We broke down.

There was nothing for it, we had to get out of the car and push.

It was hot, we were in Nakumatt supermarket car park in the middle of town and we were trying to bump start the little Toyota 110 whose battery had sadly failed us.

We pushed it down the short ramp, out past the shopping mall entrance and down towards the busy back street, lined with wooden shacks hung with t-shirts and shoes, bags and phones and all manner of amazing things. Bicycles, tuk-tuks, cars and motorcycles plied this route for business, it was no place to be stranded and we pushed as hard as we could.

But we had no luck.

Rather than risk the wrath of the van drivers, motorcyclists and tuk-tuk drivers we pushed the car up against a wall to the side of the road.

This, rather unfortunately, turned out to be the wall at the entrance to the Kenya Post depot, into which lorries regularly turned to pick up and deliver their loads.

We were, to be frank, a bit of a nuisance.

Well actually, it was only Paul James and I that were a nuisance, as by this time Moses had put the bonnet up, hit the battery with a pair of heavy pliers a couple of times and then run off to find someone who might help.

A friend of his worked in the Supermarket and the car’s mechanic only worked around the corner, so cries for help were sent out into many directions.

Just the other side of the wall was a kiosk selling fresh meat.

That statement may be the biggest lie on this blog to date, but I can factually guarantee that it was a kiosk and it did sell meat.

We bought a kilo of goat meat from it just yesterday for 300 shillings (£2.50) and then Moses turned it into a stew with groundnuts and chilli. But, as we stood waiting, the smell from the kiosk was less than pleasant in the afternoon sun.

Eventually Moses returned from his sojourn into the depths of Nakumatt with a new battery. It was clear that the old one had no life left at all, despite the encouragement from a passer by to fill it with coca cola – guaranteed, apparently, to get it going again.

Ad so we returned, somewhat later than planned, to the hotel.

It was just as well, as this evening we had planned a wonderful supper.

Moses returned home to change into his finery and to pick up Tatu, his naturally beautiful Tanzanian wife, and then returned, with Paul James, at the customary 45 minutes later than we had agreed.

We jumped in the car and headed to town.

We have been to the Thai restaurant there a number of times before. I always try to go out with Moses, Tatu and Paul James at the end of my trips and we always discuss where to go. There are good Indian restaurants, African, Italian, but the Thai always wins.

Whilst Moses parked the car (some distance from the kerb) we headed inside.

The restaurant is upstairs in a small shopping mall, above the Fly540 offices and next to a foreign exchange. It is unassuming, but welcoming, lit with red lanterns and a warm smile.

We were shown to our table and ordered the mandatory prawn crackers, which appeared a few minutes later with a fiery red chilli sauce, a tamarind dip and onions.

We feasted. We enjoyed chicken and ribs, satay and prawns, shredded pork and pineapple rice – tasty, well cooked and full of flavour.

Moses was curious to know how things were cooked. After his success in the kitchen with the goat and the mushrooms he is looking at oriental cuisine as a logical next step.

In particular he loved the spare ribs and tried to guess the flavours. I told him that good spare ribs are marinated for a long time so that the juices flow into them and slowly flavour the meat before they are cooked on hot flames. He was intrigued.

As we ate chicken wings - sorry, as Tatu ate the chicken wings and the rest of us tucked into the spare ribs – we reflected on the time we have spent together.

Moses shared how easy it had been, how we haven’t rushed about this time, how we have shared and had time to mull over ideas and thoughts, how we have agreed on so many things without it seeming like much effort.

And it has been good.

As we talked we looked back over the ten years of the Trust.

We talked about this wonderful place, about the need to spend time here and get to know it, to get to know the people and to get to an understanding of the culture.

There have been times when we have tried to go too fast, times when we have worked in our own strength and tried to force things to happen and times when we have waited to see and understand the best thing to do.

But we all agreed that, over the last ten years, this place has been marinating us, seeping into our bones, getting under our skin, helping us to understand. And we are much better for the experience.

The flavours coming out are good, this trip has left a wonderful taste.

Our evening was over so soon, three hours in an instant. It was lovely to spend time with my Kenyan family.

How good it is, when brothers and sisters dwell together in unity.

Thanksgiving and Prayers

Sunday.

And so to church.

Not just any church though, this is African church. Worship here isn’t the reverential singing of a few songs from hundreds of years ago. It’s a celebration, a party. It’s dancing until you can’t dance any more, it’s repeated harmonic rhythms sung out from the front and repeated by the congregation. It’s jumping and clapping and dancing and singing until you think there is nothing left in you.

And then it is thanksgiving.

Not a prayer from the front, not a formal time, but a mass participation event where everyone in the church raises their voice and gives thanks for all the things God is doing in their lives. They may be the poorest of the poor, they may live in the mud and thatch huts that surround the church and our land, but they manage to give thanks for 10 minutes at least. Everyone talking at once, their own personal prayers lost in the melee of voices and left to the beneficiary of the thanksgiving to sort out.

Then the music starts again. Soft guitar rhythms, “wewe bwana, ni wewe Bwana yangu” and then the joy wells up again, the music gets louder, the voices swell and the church starts to party.

Our church in Kibos is not a grand building. It’s a few mbati sheets (corrugated iron) around a wooden frame, sunk into increasingly fragile ground as the rains cause the sandy soils to shift underneath it. It has stood for almost 7 years now and needs reinforcing with steel posts, but nobody minded.

The music these days is limited to Moses guitar, a donation from well wishers in the UK. We had a keyboard, but last November, when the rains caused a blackout the pastor here, Hezbon, borrowed a generator and plugged the keyboard in. Within an hour it had fried, quite literally.

After an hour or so of praise and worship, thanksgiving and dancing Moses invited me to preach the sermon. It was quite short by Kenyan standards, just about an hour, translated by Moses into Swahili.

My local preacher training at the Methodist Church has had little influence on my preaching here in Kenya. I am often led to tear up my notes and preach from the heart. This morning I shared from Isaiah 35 – The future Glory of Zion

He will come and save you

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped

Then the lame shall leap like a deer and the tongue of the dumb shall sing

For waters shall break forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert

The parched land shall become a pool

And the ransomed of the Lord shall return ....

And they will come to Zion with singing

With everlasting joy upon their heads

They shall obtain joy and gladness

And sorrow and sighing shall flee away

The worship that followed was wonderful, we prayed God’s kingdom down upon us and his peace upon all we do. I greeted everyone like old friends. I love it here.

I left tired, sweaty and hugely uplifted.

One day, just one day to have English worship like they do here!

This morning we took three new boys into our home at Mamboleo. The space has been made available over the last couple of months as schools have started and three boys that were with us have been resettled at their homes, with parents, grandparents or guardians.

As a result of going through the budgets yesterday we recognised that we were able to support the new intake of boys.

I know for Nicky and I this is a wonderful moment. It’s why the Trust was started in the first place, to help the most desperate off the streets. It’s the reason for the name of this blog.

Paul James and John Odhiambo, our Director and Social Worker respectively have been meeting the boys in town for some time now, taking them to a small cafe for some food and chatting with them, getting to know the reasons they were on the streets, their family background and circumstances.

They recommended them as soon as funds were available and we were delighted to welcome them today.

Brian, Fidel and Silas have been on the streets for 1.5, 2 and 2 years respectively. Their stories are different, but are all equally tragic. The loss of parents, living with elderly grandparents who aren’t able to cope, single parents who drink and beat the children. They left their homes in rural Nyanza for the streets of the largest town here, Kisumu.

On the streets they have found food at various outreach centres, even gone to a different home for a few days, but ran away again because they couldn’t cope with the regime.

I hope we are a different kind of organisation. We have small places with, what feels, to me at least, like family units. Boys treat other boys like brothers, teasing, joking, but ultimately caring for and loving one another.

But not all boys stay. About one in 5 will leave and choose a life on the streets. They struggle with the discipline of waking up each day for school, doing chores and contributing to the running of the house, washing their clothes and doing their homework.

Those who do make it are a joy and a blessing beyond measure.

And they are many. I was lucky enough to talk with a number of them this afternoon as we sat at Kibos. Atenas, Shadrack, Winnie, Evelyn, Dominic, John, Florence, Isaiah, articulate children blessed by the work of people here with funds from generous supporters in the UK and thankful for a second chance in their lives. I just wish it could be for so many more.

It is 10 years this October since Nicky and I first came out. The first boys we took in 2003 are now in secondary schools and the most delightful young men. 28 street boys have gone home and are in school, 34 are in secondary school and looking forward to their KCSE exams, 13 this year will take KCPE and graduate from primary school. 3 have completed secondary school and are looking at colleges and university.

They could never of dreamed of this.

It’s worth giving thanks for.

Our new boys got fresh clothes and a good bath this morning. They have been playing football in front of the house with the other boys this afternoon.

It will be a long road for Brian, Fidel and Silas. My prayer is that they, along with those who have made it so far, will

come to Zion with singing

With everlasting joy upon their heads

They shall obtain joy and gladness

And sorrow and sighing shall flee away

I hope, in another 10 years time, we will be giving thanks, Kenyan style of course, for their emergence from the shadows of the streets into the fullness of maturity. If you have faith, please say a prayer for them.

Budgets & Blessings

I sat with Moses and Paul James today to do budgets.

It doesn’t sound like something to look forward to very much, but it was a really good day.

We sat in the garden at Sunset Hotel and went, one by one, through each of the programs that we support, each of the children that we look after. We talked about the programs, whether they are achieving what we envisioned and hoped for, whether we need to make changes, whether to prune or to invest.

The garden at Sunset is a wonderful place, full of tall, spreading trees and colourful plants, a lovely green lawn leading down to a woodland canopy lining the shores of Lake Victoria.

The beautiful purple jacaranda, the flame trees with their glorious red flowers, the fig trees where the monkeys chase each other with dog like barks and squeals.

The birds are equally beautiful, the superb starlings have a wonderful blue sheen, catching the light of the sun on their backs, the small blue green sunbirds, with their slender downturned bills, perfectly formed for coaxing the sweetest nectar from the willing plant producers.

The scarlet-chested sunbird, flitting from branch to branch looked, for all the world, like its heart had opened and was displayed for all to see. Maybe it just loved the richness and variety of this equatorial garden.

Fish eagles sat, imperious on the tree branches, overlooking the lake and Black Kites circle in the skies above, watching, waiting, soaring on thermals, never flapping, but graceful and skilled in flight.

Next to Sunset, by the lake shore, sits the impala park and a newly opened entrance from the hotel grounds gave glimpses of impala, the male with its long curved horns proudly surveying the harem of which he was king.

And through it all we talked. Each program in turn, Kibos, the boys, all those who look after them, the cooks, the gardeners, the land, the problems with the electricity supply, the monthly reports and inspections from the provincial children’s office. The land we own, our plans for gardening and farming, greenhouses and chickens.

The Mamboleo, the boys there, Paul James, his cook, security issues in the area, schools and resettlement programs

Then farming, our street outreach, Kachok, the rubbish dumps, the slum programs, the resource centre and its paintings, how to make the boys more independent, how to withdraw support slowly so they take responsibility, so we can support the more needy.

We talked of the education program, of agreements with guardians, of problems and expectations on the work of the Trust.

We talked for hours.

Moses battery ran out on his laptop and I took it to charge while we ate a late lunch of chicken and fish under the shade of the fig tree. Then more tea to wash it down, and back to work. We drafted agreements, wrote plans and set budgets.

It was work, but it was not work. We achieved a lot, agreed a lot, debated and confirmed a lot. We didn’t drive anywhere, meet anyone, see anything. We sat and opened our hearts, our thoughts, our plans, like the scarlet chested sunbird looking on from the branches above.

I was reminded of Psalm 133

Behold, how good and how pleasant it is
For brothers to dwell together in unity!

It is like the precious oil upon the head,
Coming down upon the beard,
Even Aaron’s beard,
Coming down upon the edge of his robes.

It is like the dew of Hermon
Coming down upon the mountains of Zion;
For there the LORD commanded the blessing—life forever.

Who knew that a day of budgets and forms could be a day of commanded blessing.