finding faith

When Lydia, the headmaster of a nursery school, first came to Kiandutu, “the children were naked, very naked, but I did not lose the hope.” She knew she must “just teach them, give them the knowledge.” She knew that “God is going to do something.”

Both she and her pastor agreed that God had not forgotten them; He had not abandoned Kiandutu. One the contrary, she believed they had only accomplished what they had because of Him, that “this far is God, otherwise we would have given up. God is near with us. He protects and I can see it.” When I asked if they would like to say anything to people in the US who might be able to help, I expected a heartfelt plea. But she assumes people understand what life is like here, and she does not believe she has suffered more than most. Instead, she responded with a promise: “We appreciate their partnership and we will be very faithful, and very transparent.” In a country with so much she wanted donors to understand their accountability and integrity. Still, she asked nothing of them, but believed God would deliver everything they needed. “If God can do anything to help our school, we would be very grateful.” As we walked away the children were sweeping a clear space in the red dirt with their hands—perhaps to draw, perhaps to sit, perhaps to play.

In our last meeting with the village elders, the chief voiced his appreciation for our methods. He thought that our ideas of having the women record the hours they worked each week and signing contracts for childcare would motivate them. They were happy with all we had done in the few days we were here, and all we hoped to do. Charity told us, “they will pray for you, that you succeed. Pray for a long life.”

They are happy that I am involved, “a young person who has many years, and she learn.” I feel a great responsibility upon my shoulders as the circle of elders look at me. Some smile. Others are pensive. But I am ready, revived. My commitment has been strengthened by all that I’ve seen.

“We will do our best,” Debbie tells them, and I have faith. We are doing this the right way. Charity translates, “when we are involving them we are partnering. They will help where they can.” We have found the path, we must only travel it, together.

Before we leave Amina pulls me aside and says, “You are Wamboi. It is a good Kokuyu name.” I am part of something now, and with the support of the elders, we cannot fail.

A wise man tells me, “In Africa, when you want to get a point across, you wrap it up in a story.” I am Waimboi. This is the beginning of my story.