Storytelling... but how much do you want to know?

I've been home from Kenya one week now. Almost back into the routine swing of things so to speak and I'm coming to terms with the idea that it will continue to take time for me to process everything I encountered. 
The experiences were heavy, yet they are real and they are mine.

So many people have expressed excitement and curiosity about this trip and what we experienced. As I've struggled with what to share and how, a wise counselor gave me some much needed advise to preface my storytelling with two questions "How much do you want to know? and Why?"

With that being said, I also want to honor the stories and people who touched my life during my time in Kenya as I sort through all God has laid on my heart.

*Reader discretion is Advised* the below contains brief, yet unimaginable real- life details about the lives & circumstances of innocent children in Kisumu, Kenya. 

A 10 year old boy is abandoned by his mother…he traveled  alone, on foot to Kisumu looking for her, based on where others said she had gone.

He slept under a tomato stand each night after the woman who set-up shop on a daily basis went home.

He met a family one evening in the pouring rain who saw his need for love, shelter and safety...His smile and laugh are infectious. Sometimes he goes to the slum to see his birth mom, but the visits are brief and he doesn't say much once he returns home.

He is 12, he likes hugs and Spiderman.   He is loved.

A 14 year old boy’s mother was so overwhelmed with mental instability or perhaps the reality of her world that she boiled water and poured it over his skin …

He was invited to live with a family in a safe home and continue his education. His “foster” dad sees his mother in the slum and she tells them she will do it again.

He is incredibly smart, waking at 3:30am daily to study. He will hopefully attend a college in America after boarding school. 

Turns out he is 18 years old, he is quiet but he likes riddles.  

A 6 year old boy is rejected by his family. His mother has passed and he lives with his father and step-mother. He is not fed regularly. His age is hard to fathom, because he is the size of an average 2 year old, weighing about 20 pounds. His father gets angry – result is a machete wound to his tiny skull. The stitches have healed over the past three weeks, so it’s just a small visible scar now.

My heart aches for the invisible scars tho… His smile and giggle are imprinted in my mind.

He is 6 years old. 

A 12 year old girl lies by herself in a hospital bed while receiving a blood transfusion. She has sickle cell anemia, this is not her first time in Russia hospital. We sit with her for a while.

Her parents have both died, so she lives with an uncle and aunt. The uncle works all day, the aunt does not come to visit.

She is discharged on a Monday, yet Wednesday she is still there, alone again but looking stronger. Her uncle cannot pay the bill, therefore she cannot leave. There’s a guard at each door.

The total is 7,384 Kenya Shillings - $87 US dollars. Deep breath, we can help her. Her uncle can pay half, so we pay the balance. Thursday she gets to go “home.” 

She has the sweetest voice and smile. She likes storybooks and school. 

They arrive to school each day at 6am. They leave each day at 6pm. Twelve hours a day, Monday through Saturday.  Most of them won’t receive food outside of RingRoad – where they serve three meals a day, plus morning porridge. They do not have electricity or running water at home in the slum.

Most of them do not get hugs or encouragement at home either. After class 8, most of their futures are unknown. It is especially difficult for the girls, a high school education is not common, let alone college or university.
She dreams of becoming a pilot...
She dreams of becoming a teacher...
She dreams of becoming a doctor...



They are 16 months old. They sit and crawl on the dirt outside of their home, she is completely naked and he has on a shirt that is soaking wet. Diapers are expensive and a luxury in Kenya, let alone in the slum.
They are small, undernourishment nearly took their lives a few months ago but they are growing stronger. He is working on his army crawl, maybe he will stand and take a step soon. She cries and wants to be held close.
Their mom is working hard on hand washing clothes, she smiles brightly but her mind is not all there so she keeps scrubbing.
He keeps crawling. She keeps crying.


The life changing impact each one of these sweet souls has left on my heart... Please continue dreaming, keep searching, keep reading stories, continue to learn, keep your hearts open to hope and love and change.
I'm working on this too...

xo,
Mandy

“Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up.” -Anne Lamott