Perspective

On Saturday, June 20, we walked up that same dusty road, only this time we went to Cicilia's home. Again, she (along with Janet, the cook) is our house help. At the point where we turned towards Silibwet yesterday, we instead trecked foward down a muddy, winding path to finally reach Cicilia's humble home. She makes this journey daily, to reach us by 9:00 am. For the last two years, Cicilia has raised her 6 children alone. In 1994, she and her husband and 3 daughters fled from Ruwanda. All of her husband's family were killed, along with her sister, brother and mother. Along their way to what was ultimately Bomet, Kenya, she had 3 more children, all boys. She ended up at Tenwek Hospital because her 3rd boy was born at 30 weeks. She carried him in her arms for miles and after he turned blue, she was advised to go to Tenwek. She made it there and was amazed at what she calls "God's goodness." The doctors called her in to see her baby, whom she thought was dead. He was sucking his fingers, his eyes were opened and his color was back. After witnessing the brutal killings of her family in Ruwanda, becoming a refugee and living among the brush (through 2 countries, while birthing children along the way), and then carrying a near dead baby for miles for help...to later witnessing the death of her husband to throat cancer (2 years ago) and hearing of the death of her father back in Ruwanda...and be sitting in front of 11 privledged Americans in her mud hut that she calls "a dream come true," and to cry and smile to us saying, "God is good," was the defining moment that every piece of our journey was put into perspective. Wallace's eyes were filled with tears, Glenn's hands were clasped tightly together as she watched Cicilia in awe, and even Hugh was as still as a church mouse. The view from her newspaper lined hut was breathtaking, overlooking pastures & the valley, but the story she told was one that will forever be etched in all of our minds.

Later on that same Saturday, we visited an orphanage in Amoja. If our hearts weren't bleeding by then, they were at the orphanage. The conditions seemed very primitave and the children were mezmerized by us. They wanted to constantly touch our skin, hair and nails, (especially since it is so pale! At least it was, until I managed to get a sunburn - a mere 100 miles from the equator!). Wallace, Glenn and Hugh were equally as excited about the chickens, dogs and goats there. Glenn caught a fresh chicken egg and ran to us saying, "Look! It fell right out of the chicken's butt!" Hugh spent most of his time chasing the goats, at least until he felt the jealous need to mark his territory by occasionally running over to sit in my lap. I was most impressed by a 12 yr. old girl named Mercy, whose dad was the orphanage manager. She seemed very smart & interested in hearing all about America. She wants to be a doctor at Tenwek or in America. When asked why, she said, "because I want to give back because so many people have given to me." A 2 yr. old boy named Rehema stole all of our hearts. He's the one Hugh was jealous of! The needs are great, yet the children of the orphanage sang songs of happiness to us while serving us Chai (tea), smiling and praising God. One of the songs they sang was, "Father Abraham had 7 sons...and we are all one of them." Perspective; God's grace & mercy.
All Our Love, Ave, Scottie, Wallace, Glenn & Hugh