Showing posts with label kibera. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kibera. Show all posts
thursday: may 17.
















































Elizabeth. Francis. Collins. Masee. Joseph. Fiona.


These are the children of Kibera. We like to say we "love" them, and we do, but Pastor Imbumi and his wife Martha really love them. They've spent over twenty years caring for the children of Kibera, and if that's not testimony enough, they've adopted 22 of them. The kids live at the Shunam shelter, a compound outside downtown Nairobi, where they live in a rare community of faith. The pastor leads them in Saturday prayer for the Sunday service; there is abundant food on their table; they live harmoniously. It's beautiful to watch. Their family is big enough to play a full game of soccer at the field behind the compound, where monkeys cheer from the sideline trees.

The pastor and his wife plan to buy 53 acres of land to relocate the Shunam shelter. They hope to build a school and establish their work of redeeming kids from the slum. They pray for money (an immense sum; think of starting a large school), and for growth. Imbumi believes the money will come in one year's time. "Now," he says with a twinkle in his eye, "it is like the fist of the thunderstorm that Elijah's messenger saw on the horizon; soon, it will rain." (I can think of no one else in the world to whom I would more gladly give money, if I had it...)

The thing is that these people get this place. They live in the working cogs of Kibera. Martha had been working with World Vision for eight years when Imbumi asked for her hand. Three months later, they both got married, quit their jobs, and have been working in the slums ever since. In his first two years, says Imbumi, he buried over 70 people.

We've learned loads from these people in our short time here. Here's the sum of some thoughts floating through our group:

>The testimony of believers is essential to worship. Talk about what the Lord is doing in your life! Fo real! Confess your sins publicly. Let it go. Speak of your redemption every day.

>Teaching and preaching the Word of God--alone--brings hope and joy. Stick to the book; don't be afraid to talk about it because "it may not be relevant." Screw "relevance" as we know it. The Bible is the living word.

>Travel gives light to the eyes. Seeing the weird and paradoxical nature of the slums--the joy and misery, the sin and worship, the clean scrubbed babes and dirty sewage--sheds light on our own culture. Where do we disconnect? Where is our sewage? Here in Kibera, it flows in the streets. We sweep ours under the rug.

>God's saints at work are like a million pinpricks of light around the globe.

>The women of Kibera are powerful warriors of the Word. They don't dwell on emotions, as the Western world has been taught to do; they read their Bibles.

At the core of all these thoughts is a central one. We are with saints who trust in God for every speck of strength. They love and worship him passionately—earnestly—like they knew the time was short. They fall into worship at staff meetings, in the kitchen, before class: everywhere. It is their source of life. And shouldn't it be?












thought.
"The sights a man has seen he cannot give away like coins, and in the wallet of my heart I finger this one still." -Godric, Frederick Buechner

word. scrutator (skroo-TAY-tuhr) noun: One who investigates.

[From Latin scrutator (searcher),
from scrutari (to examine),
from scruta (trash).]

deed. compose a poem standing up outside.






tuesday: may 15.

thought. (a quote worth your thoughts) "Who loves not women, wine and song remains a fool his whole life long." -Luther

word. (from the wordsmith)
tatterdemalion (tat-uhr-di-MAYL-yuhn, -MALEE-uhn) noun

A person in ragged clothes.

[From Middle English tater, from Old Norse toturr (rag).
The origin of demalion is uncertain.]

deed. (give it a shot) find a pond. find a boat. read first john. slowly.

slum stories

"The people of Kibera are tired of being looked upon as objects." That's what Pastor Imbumi Makuku told us today after we took our lunch of rice and green beans in chick pea soup. We've been in Nairobi a week now. We spend our days in Kibera, the second largest slum in Africa; a million people live in a square mile of sewage and tin roofs. Bill and Melissa Gates have visited the slum, along with Kofi Anan, Bill Clinton, American Idol, and others.

Who could tell? What has changed? Except for the slum tours, which have now popped up all over Kibera to feed tourists' need to feel e
mpathy, except that the white people continue to flock here to see "how the other half lives," it's hard to say. It's hard to see anything worth calling transformation.

Except in this concrete slab church, Kibera Presbyterian. The people here
are being transformed. Pastor Imbumi, his wife Martha, and the leaders of the school here are working change that will last when the others have gone. They are training hundreds of children in the way they should go. They are teaching mothers the Scripture. They are teaching them to pray. Though the profligate fathers are notably absent, a generation of sons is growing up in the Word.

Every Tuesday, an HIV positive group meets at the church. Martha's sister Mary leads the group, and today she announces--for the first time--that she too is HIV positive. Then she says, "Whether we have HIV or not, we all know that our goal is heaven." She begins her medicine today, which to the Africans is public admission and a bow to the stigma of "looseness" attached to the virus. A woman steps forward. "I am Rose." (They speak their kind English for us mzunghos) "I am HIV positive. And I live well." She tells us she wanted to commit suicide when she found herself HIV positive. But she was in the national hospital, and couldn't escape to do the thing. Instead, the church came to her there and prayed with her. She accepted Jesus. She had a baby in the hospital. The church gave her formula milk. The baby took two suspenseful tests. She feared the worst. Both tests came back negative. She holds the baby in her arms today: they are both alive and praising God. They live with Job's words in mind: "The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away; Blessed be the name of the Lord."

Such are the testimonies of the women of Kibera. And here in this church, the women have AIDS medicine and formula milk, but more importantly, they trust in God. More than anyone I have ever seen. And the formula milk means there will be no viral transfer. What redemption! Without it, the tomb is sealed for both you and your children. With it, these women can live to see another day, to see a future for their kids.