Chapter 4 – An Expanded Cast of Characters

Introducing Baba Amos and Mama Milkah

Thursday marked the return of two very significant members of Baba Nyumbani. The head parents at the orphanage, Amos and Milkah, had been away attending to family matters. The community upon arrival warmly accepted them.

Eli had been raving about Amos, and I was very much looking forward to meeting him. On first glimpse, Baba Amos didn’t wow me in stature or size. I think I was anticipating a giant father figure with a voice of gold and face that defined wisdom and strength. Instead, I got a short man with a boyish face and a smile that defined mischief.

We shook hands and I immediately felt that we were destined for a lot of light-hearted experiences together. It did not take long for me to realize why the children looked up to him – Amos possessed a child-like heart. He was very appreciative to have us come visit, which is always nice to hear as a visitor from a foreign country.

Feeling accepted was certainly a non-issue for us during our stay at Baba Nyumbani. Going in, we were not asked to provide documentation about who we were, what we believed, or whether or not we had engaged in any criminal activity over the course of our life. We were their guests, and they unconditionally provided for us, showing servant-like love for us in their accommodating ways.

I don’t know if we would be willing to open up our doors in much of the same way in Canada. We like surrounding ourselves with people of the same socioeconomic class, race, and beliefs system – preferably with no metal illnesses or criminal records. And although there are exceptions to this very blanket-like statement, I look at my own circle of friends and really wonder how often I look to accommodate people that differ from me on various levels in terms of class, upbringing, race, and beliefs.

I attend the Meeting House church and one of our current series have addressed our addiction to comfort and our unwillingness to get “uncomfortable” by aligning ourselves with people that are less privileged by our American Dream standards. When we do get involved, we tend to throw money at different outreach initiatives, that while providing an excellence service to the community, often cause us to miss the value that actually spending time with the less privileged can bring to us.

I could sense the joy that the kids and adults at the orphanage felt from showing love to charity cases like Eli, Jared, and myself. They enjoyed hearing about our jobs, families, interests, and education. Are we that naïve to think that we cannot feel that same joy learning from and working with people that have grown up with disadvantages that we cannot even begin to comprehend in our own communities?

Forces are at work that have lead us to believe that there can be NO effective communion between rich and poor, abled and disabled, stable and broken, or Canadian and African – and even if it were possible it would not be worth the risk. This is among the greatest tricks the devil has ever pulled – that real community that transcends race, social class, beliefs, and culture, cannot exist, is too risky, and offers little reward.

Open up the Bible to see who Jesus came to align himself. Religious elite? Don’t think so. Roman dictators? Jesus scoffed at Pilate’s so called “power”. He came for the hungry, the poor, the foreigners, the sick, the sinners, the suffering, the lost, and the broken. Do the people we hang out with have similar attributes? Food for thought. I’d be the first to admit that I fail in my outreach efforts, something that I have been trying to remedy since my return from Africa.

Jesus has paved the way by showing us his heart for serving those who would be considered least among the men. He questioned the religious order, who were more concerned with observing the written law, rather than the actually concerning themselves with the heart behind Torah. Organized Christianity has become eerily similar to the practices of the Pharisees in the time of Jesus. Many churches place protecting traditions, viewpoints, and social orders in the front seat, throwing “dirtier” tasks like outreach and community service in the trunk.

My goal over the next year is to align my heart with the compassion of Christ. I’ve had plenty of inspiration – both at home and abroad – now all I need is a little courage, will power, and support. Pray that I may experience Jesus’ heart outside my zone of comfort!

I also met Amos’ wife Milkah that evening. She was a larger woman (taller than Amos actually!) who also met us with unconditional acceptance. She had her young son Asaph with her, who happened to be the youngest resident at Baba Nyumbani. Throughout our time at the orphanage, Milkah was always on the go – whether caring for her baby, preparing meals, leading devotions and worship, managing chores, or even playing soccer with us – her service seemed endless, and yet you would be hard pressed to find a time when she was downcast or resentful.

There’s Something about Joseph

Joseph the Brave, Joseph the Kind-hearted, Joseph the Athlete, Joseph the Protector, and Joseph the Friend/Mentor… probably the most inspiring of all the adults I encountered in Kenya, Joseph was an influential figure and a perfect example of a man living a life close to God’s own heart.

Joseph worked on the farm and as part of the security staff at the orphanage. He was among the eldest members of the staff. He was also among the most active: He laboured just as much as anyone in the fields and barns, he played soccer regularly, he made time for worship and prayer with the kids, and he was always ready to help the first person that showed signs of need.

I took to Joseph largely as a result of the warmth that he put into greeting us on every occasion no matter what the circumstance. Every time I ran into Joseph he greeted me like a brother. He always offered a hand, a smile, and a word of blessing. He took interest in us and volunteered his time to teach us archery skills, milking techniques, and other Kenyan customs. He showered us with attention and kindness in a way that truly inspired.

We had nothing to offer Joseph from a “necessities of life” standpoint, and yet he welcomed us fully into their community. If that’s not a great example of someone living out the faith to the fullest, I don’t know what is. When we departed from the orphanage, Joseph was among the last to wish us farewell; I expected no less from the man who showed us nothing but Christ-like love over our stay.

You will hear a story in the chapters to come that outlines more of Joseph’s incredible character and strength – stay tuned…

Helloooooo Nurse(s)

We were gifted the opportunity to share our Kenyan experiences at Baba Nyumbani with three nurses from Sick Kids Hospital in Toronto. Alise, Angela, and Jess had arrived at the orphanage several days before our rough landing on the Kitale airstrip. Alise and Jess were making their second visit to the orphanage; their first visit was as members of a medical team less than a year earlier. Angela, like myself, was making her first trip to Africa. The three had a working relationship with Annette back home in Canada, the eventual cause for their initial involvement with the community at Baba Nyumbani.

Alise, Ang, and Jess were absolutely fantastic with the kids. Their focus for the trip was very obvious – bring as much joy and love to the kids as literally possible over the course of their stay. They were so “kid-focused”, Eli and I often wondered if there was something wrong with us. However, over time, our relationship with the three of them did warm and we were able to share a lot of meaningful times as a group.

I understood, though I did not ask, that Alise, Ang, and Jess were not what one would categorically label as Christians. I got the vibe that they were a bit turned off by organized Christianity. It caused me to wonder a bit, after everything they experienced, that if churches in North America were somewhat similar to the worship, prayer, and community at Baba Nyumbani, they would be more receptive to Christians and wonder a little bit more about what this Jesus fellow was all about.

Jesus was all about what Alise, Ang, and Jess had come to do at Baba Nyumbani. He was about spending time with those with less, bringing joy and hope to those that appeared insignificant by the World’s standards, and sacrificing His time and resources without little tangible reward.

So there you have it ladies, you were another one of my inspirations in Kenya. You are people of unsurpassable worth modeled after God’s very own heart. I meant it with upmost sincerity when I said we would have big shoes to fill after you left!

Walter’s Wonderful Wife Alice, Rascal Son Simon, Brilliant Boy Shatti, and Precious Daughter Deborah

Walter and his loveable family became very much a part of our life during our two and a half weeks at Baba Nyumbani. Alice and Walter functioned as the second parent set at the orphanage, and were just as pivotal to the growth of the kids as Amos and Milkah. Like Milkah, Alice was always busy. Whether she was preparing meals, cleaning the office, doing laundry, having worship and devotional time with the kids, or looking after her own three young children, Alice rarely had time to sit. But like all the adults I spent time with at the orphanage, she performed her duties cheerfully and always treated us with great kindness.

There was no kid at the orphanage that craved our attention to the extent of Simon, the middle child of Walter and Alice. Simon was intrigued by everything about us: our light skin colour, the fact that we couldn’t understand a word he was saying, our hairy forearms (he would purposely try to inflict pain on us by pulling out our arm hairs), and our ability to give him piggy-back rides and other rides that helped him defy gravity, among other attributes.

In particular, Simon always wanted Eli and myself to himself. If that meant pushing his younger sister Deborah out of the way or squeezing his way through other kids to sit directly next to us then so be it. He would do anything to snag our attention, regardless of the situation. Most of the time he was impossible to resist. And when we did, we could always expect to hear one word: KUJA! Kuja simply means “come.” It was always “Eli Kuja” or “Jon Kuja”, in no particular order, and if one of the calls failed we could expect to hear the other within mere seconds. Despite his constant bombardment of attention seeking, it was nice to feel wanted, even if it was by a three-year-old rascal.

Walter and Alice had an older son name Shatti. Shatti excelled in school, and as a result, Walter was forced to honour an agreement that promised to reward Shatti a new pair of shoes if he got top marks in all of his classes. I’m not sure if Shatti got those shoes – Walter liked to procrastinate a lot, more or less for comedic effect – but we learned by experience that Walter is a man of his word during the course of the trip, so I’m pretty sure Shatti’s feet are leaving the dream right now.

Finally, little Deborah, was such a blessing to our group. Not only was she the cutest little two-year-old, she was also resilient to the bullying of her two older brothers, she was an entertainer, and she was not intimidated by anyone. She was an absolute joy to read to, play with, and just sit with contently. My favorite memory of Deborah was her circus act couch summersaults where she would propel herself onto the couch (usually with a little help), and often land directly on her head and get up perfectly unscathed. Too cute.