Unity

“At the end of the day, I took class five out to the field to play a game. After the bell was rung to dismiss for the day, several girls stayed behind. They examined my arms as usual. Today they noticed my freckles. So some of them asked, ‘Teacha, what are these dots?’

“ I explained that they were the result of soaking in the sun. ‘When I go outside, my skin gets dark, but not as dark as yours. There are little spots on my arms that so badly want to be Kenyan that they turn dark. That’s what freckles are.’ This made them smile.

“Then one girl said, ‘Teacha, I want to be white like you!”

“I immediately responded. ‘Why do you want to be white? I want to be dark!’

“I told them that since I was white, I was treated differently from them. My skin color sticks out in a crowd like a sore thumb. It is impossible to walk down a road and not hear, ‘Mzungu! I am needing some money,’ or ‘Take me to America!’ Going unnoticed even on my short walk home from school each day is not an option. Children of all ages run up to me, grab my hand, lead me to a shop, point to something in the window, and say, ‘Teacha, buy for me this!’ But how could I explain this to children?

“I continued, ‘…but we should we should each love our own skin color.’

“One of my pupils then asked, ‘Teacha, if you get cut by a razor, what color is your blood?’

“Many argued for a few minutes.

“‘Green!’

“‘Orange!’

“‘No, it’s black! I’ve seen it!’

“Then I stopped them. ‘You have black hair; I have brown. You have dark skin; I have white. You have brown eyes; I have green. But if someone peeled all of our skin off, you would not be able to tell me from you. You would see red blood, two lungs, bones, and a heart. We look different on the outside, but we are exactly the same on the inside. We aren’t different. God gave us different skin colors for a reason, though we don’t know what it is.’”

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Everyone.

Every. Single. Person.

All of the inhabitants of the earth.

All of us.

We need this lesson. To young children, the lesson is easily learned. They can know with confidence that we may look different, but that does not mean that we are different. It is simple to explain to a fifth grader that the blood of a white person is the same as that of a black person. It is simple to explain that we live in different countries and we speak different languages, but we are still united through the love of Jesus. It is simple to explain that skin color does not determine who you are; your heart and your desires are the determining factor. To teach this to ten and eleven year-olds is simple. They understand. But to those of us who are past primary school, who are past the stage of trusting everything we learn, who have entered to stage of doubt and disbelief, who are thought to be wiser than children, this lesson is tough. We have grown up to believe the stereotypes that are associated with each race, gender, and people groups. We refuse to believe that our differences could possibly be united in a common goal. We choose to accept the roles and the labels that society has chosen for us because they must be the truth. 

Along with this, we chose to believe that the lies made up about people who are different from us are the truth.

I don’t know who decided that wazungu blood is black or that white people never get hurt. This portrays us to be individuals who are better than others. But are either of those stereotypes true? No. I have red blood. I hurt myself all the time by tripping over thin air and face planting!

My skin color does not make me better than anyone else.

And neither does yours.

Because, like I told my class five girls, if someone were to peel off all of our skin, we would look exactly the same. Red blood. Lungs. A heart. Bones. Organs. Everything. A difference could not be seen between me and you.

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“They needed to hear this. But they still had one last question concerning our differences. ‘Cha, when you are running, do you ever fall down?’

“I threw my head back and simply laughed. ‘Girls, I fall down more than you! God created me to be a clumsy person to bring joy to others. Yes, I fall down all the time, and I don’t even have to be running to trip!’

“My girls laughed a little bit. We then walked arm in arm with one another until we needed to part ways to our own homes.”


I am living a life full of sorrow and joy, differences and similarities, prejudice and peace. Most importantly, though, my life is becoming an example that these extremes can be united for the same purpose. And that, my friends, is pure bliss.

Loving always,
Bekah

Kericho

"I had a marvelous learning experience. While teaching my first lesson, we were talking about safety when walking on the roads. We came across the term 'zebra crossing,' and I thought 'Oh! These must be equivalent to deer crossings!' So I told my class how we have these animals called deer that cross the roads and cause accidents. They all knew what deer were and understood about the accidents, but they did not see how this related. It was not until about twenty minutes later that I realized these 'zebra crossings' were for people, not zebras. They were, in fact, crosswalks."

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I have finally begun teaching for the summer. I am now located in Kericho, Kenya, about five hours (depending on the driver of the vehicle) away from Nairobi. I am in charge of 32 eager fifth graders for two subjects, and I love it. It's only been a week, but I already know that leaving them will be tough. My classroom is composed of so many different personalities, and all of them shine like diamonds. As my mother would say, "There's not a rotten one in the bunch!"

Honestly speaking, I adore being able to walk into my humble classroom each day and receive the greeting, "Good morning, Madame Bekah! We are fine; how are you!" as each student stands and smiles. I more than love walking around the campus and having hands of the younger students extend toward me for a handshake (or two or five) while they carefully try to balance both porridge and book bags in their other hand. I cannot express my thankfulness for the teachers of the school who have taken me under wing to show me how things around here are done and have given me tips and suggestions as to how I can better connect with the students. I love everything about where I am.

I live with a family from the school. All three of the children attend Light and Life Academy, and the father is the head teacher as well as the pastor of the church, which is located on the school property. The mother of the family works at a different school across town. They are too good to me. Being able to spend time with each of them and get to know their personalities brings me joy.

The house I live in is similar to an apartment; nineteen other homes are connected to mine. They form a rectangle with shared quarters in the middle. In this little area, the children from these households as well as some others play and sing and shout from the time they get off of school until about seven or eight at night. This has given me an opportunity to get to know children other than my fifth graders. I love going outside and hearing "Baykah! Baykah!" as they run toward me with their hands extended for a hug. I am surrounded by children 24/7, but I'm definitely not complaining. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I shouldn't have favorites. I don't. But there is one particular little girl who maybe brings me a little bit more joy than some of the others. This girl is cute beyond compare and more precious than anything. She is often in our home because she is best friends with everyone in the house. This four year old and I often bond. She speaks to me as if I speak fluent Kiswahili, and, try as I might, I cannot get through to her that I, in fact, only know very little of Kenya's official language. Therefore, when she asks me a question I do not understand, I tell her, "Kiswahili kidogo (a little Swahili)" or make some kind of gesture to indicate that I have no clue what she is trying to ask me. Instead of taking these as hints that maybe we should have someone interpret for us, she will continue to repeat the question six or seven times until I distract her with something else.

Even though our communication is limited, I still love spending time with her. One evening, I was coloring with several kids at the dining room table. My precious little friend walked up and asked for a colored pencil, so I handed her the orange of my set. And then I saw her run home. Though I thought I was only letting her borrow it, it was not a big deal. It would be easy for me to get another when I get back to the United States. The next day when I arrived home from school, she was already in our kitchen chatting with the members of the house. She saw me walk in and smiled, but quickly ran out of the room after. She returned a few moments later and thrust into my hand that orange colored pencil. It had a bit more wear-and-tear than yesterday: the majority of the paint had been chewed off, the lead had been eaten, and the whole pencil was covered in slobber. I looked up from my hand to the face of my four-year-old friend. She had a smile from ear to ear. I must say, I was trying extremely hard not to laugh at the gift she bestowed upon me; she was so very proud of the returned pencil. I decided that it did not bother me if I was missing an orange colored pencil. So I gave it back to her, this time to keep forever.

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"As I take a break from my lesson planning, I straighten my back from the contorted position I had subconsciously been sitting in for an hour or two. I lean my head against the wall, close my eyes, and position my chin toward the roof. The tin covering this house is alive with pitter-patters of rain droplets singing in the evening sky. A small child stands near my window and hums the melody of 'God is so Good' over and over again in near-perfect pitch. The house has calmed after the chaos of the school day. Birds harmonically sing in unison of the joy of the light rain shower they are receiving. And I think to myself, what a wonderful world. No. But really. As I sit up in a good posture-improving position with my head resting against the wall of my bedroom and my eyes closed, I reflect on the day. I love teaching these children who are more than eager to learn whatever I tell them. I love hearing the 'How are YOU!'s and seeing the smiling faces of children who are simply happy to be at school for the day. I love receiving handshakes from hundreds of children, and even noticing those who have already received a handshake getting back in line for another. I shake every desiring hand as many times as they want. So as I think back over the day and over my first few days at this school, I ask myself, 'Could heaven be like this?'

"I certainly hope so."

Bless you all,
Bekah

Ethiopia

A new country, a new language, a new people. Ethiopia is proudly known as one of the only two un-colonized nations in Africa. From its discovery of coffee to its embracing hospitality, Ethiopia has left a lasting mark in the hearts of many, including me.

We were able to visit a few schools while there. I loved seeing the children line up to sing to us as we walked into the campus of a well-advanced school system on the top of a mountain in upcountry Ethiopia. I loved feeling like royalty as I participated in a coffee ceremony and was distinguished as a guest of honor by means of dawning a scarf and holding a rose. But some of my favorite moments came when the children who did not go to school, who were maybe not as well off as others, saw me and grabbed my heart.

"We traveled a long, uncomfortable way up to the peak of a mountain to a school in the ICCM system today. We did not go to teach, to serve, or to work. We simply went to see the school. And because we were visitors, we were treated like royalty. It was incredible.

"While feeling like the most important person in the world is nice from time to time, I have two favorite parts of the day that involved being humbled. While we were walking from one campus to another, we attracted a large group of street children. I gave out my last two candy bars and tried to communicate with them. As we walked, it was not long before a felt a little hand slip into mine. As soon as the other children saw that it was safe to touch the hand of this strange-looking person, my vacant hand was battled over. We walked hand-in-hand (-in-hand-in-hand-in-hand-in-hand-in-hand...) for quite a ways. They led me around muddy areas and through the smoothest parts in the road. It was beautiful to bond with these children, even though I will probably never see them again.

"My second experience of humbleness occurred several hours later. A group of boys gathered around our bus. As we were waiting to leave, I opened a window and spoke to them. I gave them all a piece of gum, a 3/4 empty water bottle, a package of nuts, or simply a handshake. I know they were hoping for money, but I'd rather give them something instead of money. One little boy hacked off a piece of sugarcane for me. While I did not eat it, I was grateful for his generosity. But there was another young man that really touched me. I had explained to some of the kids that I did not have any money on me, so I was unable to give them anything. This precious little special needs boy must have heard me say this, because he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bill worth 10 birr (about $.50) and tried to give it to me. I was so floored at this boy's generosity, even when he has none."

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As I earlier mentioned, I had the opportunity to spend the last ten days in Ethiopia with quite a wonderful mixture of people. The group I was with was composed of people from eleven different countries, eight from Africa and three from North America. These people are all leaders of International Childcare Ministries in their countries (Not sure what ICCM is? Check it out here!). It was such an honor to be able to attend this conference with these incredible people. However, I had a thought concerning these marvelous souls.

"I was thinking about our group today. Eleven different countries from two different continents composed our group. I don't even know how many languages could come from the lips of our group as a whole. There were times when the language played a role as a blockade in communication; yet there were also times when each of us lifted up the name of Jesus in our native tongues. Though we were all praising in our own languages, we were united through the bond and declaration of the greatness of our God. It's very possible that our group will not again be all together this side of heaven. But I'm already looking forward to that day of reunion, whether it be in this lifetime or our next perfect one.

"Either way, that day will be full of hugs, laughs, and another union in our sweet Savior."

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"I told myself as soon as I landed in Addis Ababa that one visit to Ethiopia in my lifetime was enough, that I would live in Kenya for the rest of my life, that I didn't even need to visit other parts of Africa because I knew exactly where I was going to be and what I was going to do. But maybe that's not true.

"Maybe there is more that I still need to see."

Blessings,
Bekah

Early Encounters

"After becoming very cozy in my bed at this guest house [in Johannesburg, South Africa], I quickly fell into a deep sleep. In the morning, I awoke to the sounds of another guest chattering to someone as he was walking past my room. I stretched, yawned, and prepared to get up and get ready for the day. Then I checked the time. 10:08. I suddenly began to panic. I knew that I had to be checked out of my room before 10, and the stern reminder of the receptionist from the night before started playing in my head: 'Brehkfahst ess from hahf pahst seeks to hahf pahst nine. Don't be late.' I immediately checked my phone to determine why my alarm didn't go off; it must have died during the night since I don't have a proper outlet for charging purposes [Looking back, it makes no sense as to why I thought my phone had died. It was obviously not dead since I just checked the time on it...]. I checked my alarm app, and my alarm was still set for 8:00 AM of May 13, 2014. Then it hit me: my home screen was still displaying the date 'May 12, 2014.' It was still the day that I arrived in Johannesburg. This means that I slept for one hour (I dozed off around 9) and had awoken feeling fully rested. After just one. hour. of. sleep."

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I thought I would start off with an amusing experience on my way here. So much has happened since that time. Let me quickly catch you up to date:

• I landed in Kenya around 1 AM local time on the 14th.
• Later that day, Vickie (my host missionary) and I went to downtown Nairobi to run some errands.
• That next day (the 15th), I journeyed about 6 hours upcountry with Vickie and some familiar and not so familiar people to introduce Bible Quizzing to two schools around that area.
• I just got back from that little jaunt about 2 hours ago.

Congratulations! You are now (in general) up to speed with what has happened so far. I left out several key and not so key details. Some of those involve seeing wild zebras along the highway, getting lost several times on our way upcountry, and getting a flat tire while driving to our accommodations. However, all of these things that happened, whether good or bad, have made my trip so far memorable and exciting. I cannot explain the depth of my love for these people and this land.

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"I am a spectacle.
To some, I am famous.
To some, I am ignorant.
I am hope.
I am help.
I am a disturbance.
I am hatred.
I present a chance for relief as well as an opportunity to be taken advantage of.
I am a spectacle."

I'm not going to pretend that being here is all fun and games. I love the prospect of spending my summer with beautiful little faces, smiling and chanting "How are YOU!" as I pass by. I love being able to see animals that most people only see in zoos and even having the chance to get very close to them. I love being able to experience a culture that most simply read about in books or watch a Discovery documentary about. But I am not ignorant. I know of the violence and outbreaks happening here. I know about what could happen to me simply because I am a "mzungu." I know that I have the possibility of being harmed or worse while I am here.

But I am not afraid. No, I am not seeking out danger, but I know that no matter what happens to me, God is still my protector, my provision. He will keep me safe and take care of me, even if that means welcoming me into his courts earlier than I expect.

Everything, no matter how big or how small, has a special place in His hands.

For that, I am eternally grateful.

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"The company and souls full of Christ that I have encountered on this trip are overwhelming and beautiful. Last night we ate a fully Kenyan meal composed of ugali, chipatis, greens, and meats prepared by an elderly lady who lived on the school's property. She did not have much, but compared to others, she did. She praised God for everything. At one point, she told us that nothing was hers; it is all God's. She was happy to cook for us and serve us because she knew that everything in her house, and even her very life was not hers, but all God's. I want that mentality. We all need that view."

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Thank you for following me on this journey. I would not be here if it was not for your support and encouragement. You all mean the world to me, and I mean it with all of my heart.

God bless,
Bekah

One Week

In one week, I will be back in Kenya.

In one week, I will be submerged into a culture so different from that of North America.

In one week, I will be independent from the rushed society of this fast-paced nation.

In one week, I will be surrounding by a language that is not my own.

In one week, I will be adjusting to a different time zone.

In one week, I will be noticed as a "sore thumb."

In one week, I will be back in Kenya.

In one week, I will be beginning my three month stay.

In one week, I will be greeted by the Swahili word "Jambo!"

In one week, I will be back in the land that stole my heart two years ago.

In one week, I will be back in the streets of a country for which I have a soft spot.

In one week, I will see friendly strangers with smiles consuming the entirety of their faces.

In one week, I will be back in Kenya.

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This blog will serve as an update for my experiences and encounters as I spend my summer in Kenya. Please join me on this adventure. My journey begins in one week.

Until then, Kenya take me back to Africa?



Love always,
Bekah