Heartache and Stress

Sometimes writing my heart aches for the world to see happens for growth and healing. Silence usually isn't good. My sister is silent when things aren't good. My dad was silent then, too. "I only want to call when I have something good to share," and he almost never called. 

His voice is on my phone, a message from him when he loved me. I feared hearing it play for a while after he was gone, not sure how I would take it. Of course I cried. I've cried a lot this year. 

A coworker friend, my best healthnut, shared a book on cancer. Apparently we all are capable of having it. Burgers, fries, no excersise and stress make it worse. Perfect. Check all of the above. 

Stress and fries are my greatest companions. How can this life throw so much hurt in one direction? Either everyone is experiencing this and no one talking about it, or the stupid devil won't let me alone. However it falls is not good.

Do you ever notice how when you don't feel good you shut people out? Calling in sick to work, canceling social outings, ordering out instead of cooking, sleeping in on Sunday morning. I'm doing all of that. Well, except calling in sick even though sleeping in every day sounds good. If not for bills (like ordering out) I probably would. With so much darkness in this world we need to find rays of light somewhere, somehow. I'm going to look harder. I'm convinced there is light and hope if I search it out. 

Ever hopeful,

Dalene

It

It hits my chest and sits there. Times before it took a couple days or hours at least. As I left the airport headed home I felt it. Was I really in Kenya yesterday?

My house isn't home today. Phil is out of town for work. I miss him. This was my second time to Kenya without him. It helps that he's been before, so he will understand. I had to stop myself earlier from taking it out on him. He is gracious and compassionate and will help me through it.

Reverse culture shock. We forewarn fellow travelers about it, and yet here I sit in my house, it's presence filling in each space that I don't take breath from. Heavy and dark it surrounds me. I drove thru In-N-Out for dinner. So many go without dinner tonight, let alone a place accessible for a cheap burger. Earlier I grabbed a Jamba Juice during a layover and was impatient with the slow pace of the employees. I was probably a jerk.

I have this mixed sense of entitlement and guilt. I think that is what "it" is for me. Being home now I need to sort through this. More than that, I need a project here. I will continue on in the water project in Kenya, and advocate for our partners and create awareness regarding the need. But there is need here too.

With a heavy heart and weighted soul I miss Kenya. I could easily do good there. I should do good here, too.

Here is a video from my instagram of some children at one of our wells. We only ever saw children at the wells - adults would come later when they heard we were there.

Remaining hopeful,

Grace. Hope. Need. Necessity.

My lungs are swollen inside and the inhaler tastes like salt. There once were elephants in these hills before it was inhabited and settled. Elephants have longer legs than I do. Larger lungs, too. 

The rain falls gently as a breeze flows through with sweet scent. In bed I allow rest for my aching body from the walk (and then sprint) to shelter from falling hail. Lungs are tired and breath is heavy. My days have been good so I'll rest. 

Kitale is much cooler than Kisumu. Green and lush with gardens from the consistent rains this season. The assumption is its hot in Africa. In Tanzania there are all 7 climate zones, one of the only places in the world to have all 7 (or however many there are total). Kisumu was hot, dry and dusty. Not lush like Kitale. The people are the same though. Full of life and joy, despite the poverty and need. 

I think of how often I need to buy shoes, the pair I just have to have, followed soon by another pair I have to have. And then I have 27 pairs. Maybe Phil will purge my closet while I'm gone so I'm not so quick to go back to my old ways. 

My mother in law, Kathleen, recently shared with me about a book based on the concept of seven, and how we consume so much in the West based on "need". There is a stark difference between need and necessity. I want to read that book and get rid of some shoes. I know I will resist at first, but I will try. 

As I type this post I hold a 7 day young baby, abandoned in Kipsongo slum. This week old baby boy doesn't have a name. His 16 year old mother gave birth in a shack during school holiday. Terrified she would be kicked out of school, she concealed her pregnancy until giving birth, when she confided in a cousin and then ditched town, leaving her son behind. Fortunately the cousin sought help, and the baby is safe while the mother is found, probably in need of medical attention and unconditional love. 

This is a real need. A necessity.

I have two more days in Kenya, and a lifetime of lessons more to learn. 

Ever hopeful 

Children from Mukuyani village near Kitale, future site of community development incorporating our water project and agriculture project collaboration with UntilThen.org and OCC.org 

Restoration

There is something about being here  seeing the growth in our projects and my soul is overwhelmed as joy comes out in tears flowing down my cheeks. Dan planted a banana tree yesterday at a community development centre opening ceremony, and I had never been so proud to be a Hamer before. This family continues to move and humble me. Here we are in Kenya, to empower locals to engage each other and utilize their combined skill and knowledge, and we find ourselves in a village at a ribbon cutting ceremony for a project Dan didn't even know he had inspired. And that's my father in law. God is good. 

When my dad died I mourned for the loss of what would never be. My heart bled for the things we cannot ever share, for the loss of future memories. My dad never really supported my passion in helping street kids, though maybe he didn't understand it. Walking around communities with the team, my father in law being here and sharing in our efforts together is a big blessing, and God's restoration of my heart is happening. So the tears come at the wells where "Until Then For Street Kids" is carved in the concrete slab. Tears come when we walk through a village that has had agriculture training and the people are not starving but thriving. There are good things happening here. Maybe some day you'll come with me and see the transforming power of hope in resources at the community level, brought on by the introduction of developed farming in not needing chemical fertilizer but only legumes. My problems back home are no longer problems, but inconvinences. 

We have a few days left here, and I know they will be packed with much for me to learn. 

We found a group of street boys to hang out with pretty quick in Kitale. It was a cold day. 

Photo by Mike Teramoto

Privilege

My team is worn out. Today was packed with business and flexibility, and we are exhausted. We probably spent 6 hours at restaurants just waiting for food to come out, and that is exhausting as its not productive. Time is limited here and there's so much to do and share with others, striving for others to experience all that is happening here. 

You may have  read and seen photos about the babies my dear friend Kim has taken in through her project Mattaw. What we experienced today (besides Kim's humility) is that they also have a home with 13 girls rescued from sexual violence and exploitation. The youngest is 4. 

As we met the girls, toured their home, saw their new tree house recently built by a team, counted chickens and enjoyed their beautiful garden filled with the scent of sweet rain, I was overwhelmed with the cleansing that my faith provides. These young girls have each survived hell, yet laugh and play and greeted us with genuine embrace. My heart was filled with joy as they sang for us "we are conquerors", and then the line of "sister why do you complain of your suffering, we are conquerors" shook my spirit. We stood in a light drizzle below giant trees amongst lush gardens, watching a sweet performance by young girls who have been enslaved - and freed. This privilege of experience will be engraved in my heart-memory all of my days. 

In not wanting to further exploit them we did not capture their faces, but I wanted to share this image from their classroom of cubbies with their names lovingly written and marked on each. 

Why is it such a blessing to be here? How is my heart brimmed full of joy and hope? Praising The Lord for His goodness, all the time. 

Ever hopeful, 

Kitale, Finally

The journey to Kitale was a long one. In years past a 5 hour drive or hour long flight will bring us into this part of the country, lush with rolling hills of fertile land. After 9 hours we finally arrived, battling devastated roads with dumping rain and eager travelers. 

Along the way we briefly stopped in Nakuru at a technical training center that my  co-travelers have contributed to for some years now. Clean laptops were set up in a small  room, amongst a locked up compound in what now resembles a cyber cafe. The abandoned rooms and building were once a refuge for street kids, though we didn't see any children. The idea was that the technical school would help financially sustain the drop in centre, though I couldn't tell you if it's working. We left after a brief visit with the pastor managing the facility, and I haven't yet asked my companions if the place is what they believed it to be. 

Upon arriving in Kitale, we no sooner unloaded our bags and Kim called me, asking if I was close. Sweet Maria, one of the abandoned babies fighting to live had just finished her last bottle. I eagerly brought over a bag with formula (generously donated), and found myself smiling at God's timing. A nine hour journey across this country to be able to deliver a can of desperately needed nourishment in the moment it was needed. I'm blessed to be the deliverer of such a gift, generously bestowed by you, through amazon, in God's perfect timing. 

At dinner we were joined by some dear friends, and they were eager to hear how family and friends back home are doing that have visited in the past. Though they struggle through a lifetime of poverty, they eagerly pray for us and thank God for us daily. Such a generous act of faith from those others see as the destitute. If only to be rich in spirit and faith were the wealth of the West as it is here with my Kenyan friends. 

Today we are off to Tulwet with the drilling team, so expect lots of photos on Instagram. Then later there will be more photos as we deliver the remaining baby items to Mattaw. It will be like Christmas! 

Ever hopeful, 

Dalene

(the quiet compound in Nakuru, former location of a street kid centre, thought to be the only one in a town of about 1.5 million) 

Karibu Kenya

Arriving in Kenya has been a wonderfully African experience. The airport in Nairobi was devastated by an electrical fire last week and we weren't sure what we were going to be arriving to. Walking down stairs from the plane I looked directly into the jet bridge that would have been our exit if the airport was open. Instead we were shuttled to giant white tents as the makeshift arrival hall and immigration, set up as if an elaborate wedding ceremony was about to happen. Baggage was dumped by tractors in what I'm pretty sure was part of the runway. We sifted through piles of luggage by dim lit cell phones with hundreds of other confused passengers who were experiencing Africa for the first time. TIA. It was perfect.
Waking up here is my favorite past time. I know I'm going to have a day filled with purpose and live my passion in each moment. If only Phil was here to share with me. Today we are off to visit a friend, Bishop Amos, who helped us establish our first well in Dago in 2010. He and his wife Noel have a heart for orphans and have adopted two precious children, a rarity in the Kenyan culture. They are crucial in orchestrating and mobilizing the local church in caring for street kids (also not culturally accepted...yet). Tomorrow we will head for Kitale, where we will spend some time checking up on the wells and then visiting Mattaw. I'm sure I will be posting a ton on Instagram (@dalhamer is my username). Thank you for your prayers and for your encouragement!
Ever hopeful, Dalene 

(The jet bridge above the stairs as we stepped foot in Nairobi)