Cindy's Kenya Reflections, August 2010

I love Kenya. I love everything about it. I even love the smelly streets of Mombasa.  But with out a doubt what I love most is the people.  Like the seven previous trips I have made to Kenya, this year was no exception. I am always taken off guard by the awakening of my spirit that I feel when I am with them.  There is such a mixture - gratitude for my life, gratitude for their examples, gratitude that our worlds are no longer separated; grateful that these people will forever be infused in my soul as much as anything else that is or has ever been a part of me.  I really like who I am in Kenya. I love feeling like I can make a difference. I love knowing that we, Koins for Kenya, have made a difference. 

This trip, the reality of that difference became manifest on more than one occasion. I loved watching the Americans we were with. Many of them seasoned humanitarians, poured their passion for good into the lives of our African brothers and sisters. Without hesitation they took their hands, they held their babies, they taught their children. I honestly felt overwhelming joy to be a part of something so good.  And then as always my Kenyan friends gave me so much more than I could ever give them when an African woman reached out and held my hand, wiped my tears, offered words of consolation. 

One evening as our group was gathered beneath the moonlight reflecting on our experiences of the day and enjoying each others company, we were interrupted with tragic news that a young boy had just passed away under the mango tree no more than 50 feet from where we were sitting. He and his uncle were trying to reach the dispensary to hopefully gain access to medication that might save his life. They did not make it.  His name was Charo, he was 12 years old. He had gone to school that day, despite his horrible headache, so that he would not miss out on his end of term testing. By the time his mother returned from working in the fields near their home he was terribly ill. They had walked several miles to get help. As I became more aware of this child and his story my emotions could not be contained. I was mourning the death a child I did not know. Everything I love about this country was completely overshadowed by everything I hate about it. The lack of food, the inability to prevent very preventable diseases, the scarcity of medical services, the absence of clean water to drink. The list goes on and on.  And then a hand reached and took my hand, an arm pulled me in, and there was a shoulder for me to cry on. My African friend who, with out words, told me it would be OK, that she was there for me, and taught me again the importance of each of us doing what we can to lift the burdens of our brothers and sisters.

Cindy with Kenyan teacher

Cindy and Kenyan baby

Robyn and a girl from Miguneni Primary School

Cindy and Fatuma

Cindy, Sam and Mishi, a Kenyan primary school teacher

Cindy painting addition to the Wind Ridge school in Chikomani, Kenya

Bret and a blind boy at Mwache Primary school

Marcie painting children's fingernails

Classroom art, Kenyan style, made by this teacher

Children who attend Wind Ridge school, which Cindy's Utah classroom funded

Cindy giving teaching aids to the teachers of Wind Ridge school in Chikomani

James and his new Kenyan friend

Jason surrounded by his new friends

Kris being thanked for her donation to the Miguneni Primary school

Lacee and a village baby

Lindsay and some playmates

McCall and her new friends

Sara and Jason, playing with the local kids