Counting the hairs on our heads and the threads in our needles

God tells us that he counts the number of hairs on our heads, and he knows when even a tiny sparrow falls.  It shouldn’t surprise me when he plans something seemingly insignificant that turns into something huge, but it certainly delights me when I get to see it happen.  At Tania this summer, it was a simple sewing kit:  a handful of needles, a few spools of thread, a thread clipper, a needle threader, and a divine appointment.

The sewing kit was a last-minute addition to my packing list at the end of June.  I didn’t think I’d need it, but I had a nagging thought in my head that I should bring it.  It was so small, it seemed silly to leave it at home.  And after all, it would be nice to have in case I got a hole in my jeans while in Kenya.  I anticipated that it would stay in my suitcase the entire trip, but God had bigger plans for this tiny sewing kit.

One of the first things I noticed about the children here at Tania, after how joyful and loving they were, was how full their clothes were of easily fixed holes and tears.  I made a mental note to find out about mending the clothes of the children who stayed at the school for the August holidays once school was out.  What a great use of the sewing kit that I thought I wouldn’t need!

But God thinks even bigger than that—the social worker asked me if I would teach a mending class to some of the older girls during the August holiday.  Of course I would!  I’m no seamstress, but I could at least teach them how to thread a needle and make a finishing knot, if nothing else.

Mending classes have been so much more than I ever expected.  The first day, I had one of my class 4 girls, Sarah, watch me mend two jackets.  The next day, a few more children brought me clothes, so I set Sarah up with a needle & thread, and she mended alongside me.  The next day, we had a pile of clothes nose-high on our table, and there were 5 of us doing the mending.  Sarah was even helping me teach the newcomers what to do.

Our table in the back corner of the dining hall was a crazy mess of thread, needles, confusion, and pride this week as everyone who wanted learned how to fix their clothes.  No matter how easy the job or how many pieces of clothing a child had fixed, she still shouted “Teacher!  Look!” every time she completed a job.  And it brought me such joy to reward her for a job well done with a smile and praise, no matter how many times or how uneven the stitching.

Unless it’s THIS uneven.  This one I had to take away from the child and bring it home to pull the needle back through and undo all of the stitching.  If you like mazes, this would have been a fun puzzle for you.  But oh, that child gave it his all.

We’ve also had to improvise—my needle threader broke the first time I used it, so for a while I used the tiny piece of metal from the tip by itself to thread needles.  That eventually broke, too, so we’ve been threading needles the old-fashioned way (squinting your eyes & screwing up your face while you try to poke the thread through that impossibly small hole) ever since.  On Thursday, I spent a solid 40 minutes doing nothing but threading needles for the girls.

I also didn’t bring a pin cushion, and that many people and clothes at one table resulted in many, many needles on the floor.  I dug through my suitcases, searching for what I could use, and came up with a wrist band from last year’s sport camp.  It has been the perfect pin cushion!

I’ve really enjoyed these mending sessions with my girls so much more than I ever thought I would.  It warms my heart to see these children doing something concrete to make their lives better, and taking such pride in their work.  Even those who can’t physically use a needle and thread themselves love sitting with us and passing the thread clippers or needles to whoever needs them.  It has been a huge blessing for these children to learn a skill they so badly need, and it has been an even bigger blessing for me to watch them learn.  It was all possible because the God who counts the hairs on my head knew to tell me to bring a simple sewing kit to Kenya.

In the shelter of each other, we will live

In Africa, there is a proverb that says, “If you want to go fast, go alone.  If you want to go far, go together.”

Martin Luther King, Jr. once said that we are all bound together in an inescapable network of mutuality, and that what affects one directly, affects all indirectly.

There is a Celtic proverb that translates, “It is in the shelter of each other that people live.”

Jesus said that the second greatest commandment, after loving God with all of your heart, soul, strength, and mind, is to love your neighbor as yourself.

I think the Kenyans I have met have a lot to teach Americans about loving our neighbors.  We’re taught in America to look out for number one, to strive to be the best regardless of whose neck gets stepped on in the process, to mind our own business, and to only worry about ourselves.  And, as a culture, we have an alarmingly high rate of anxiety and depression.  It has always pained me to live in a culture that is individualistic to its own spiritual detriment, but I have hope that there is another way after seeing the children here at the Tania Centre truly living out the idea that it takes a village to raise a child.

There is a little boy here named Ian.  Ian is wheelchair-bound and completely dependent on others to get him from place to place, to take him to the bathroom, to get him food at meal times.  There is no adult in charge of taking care of Ian, but he is always taken care of.  When it’s time for class, one of his classmates will push him there.  When it’s meal time, one of the older students will get his food and feed him.  When he needs to use the bathroom, one of the boys will take him and help him.  He is never forgotten, and it’s never the same students helping him every time.  Everyone helps out Ian.

There is a little girl here named Charity.  Charity has many anti-social behaviors and tends to throw things and spit at other students, and she often smells due to lack of hygiene.  But Charity is never left behind or ignored.  At tea time, a student or two will lead her down for tea.  When it’s time for class, someone will lead her back up to the school.  During breaks, when Charity plays with the grass, other students will pick pieces of grass and hand them to her as a sign of friendship.  Everyone helps out Charity.

There are many small children here, some as young as 1 or 2 years.  With over 100 students, there is only one dorm mother for the boys and one dorm mother for the girls, but the small children are always taken care of.  Their clothes are washed, they are dressed in clean outfits every day, and they are always fed at meal times.  When a small child falls and bumps her head, someone will pick her up to comfort her.  When one is wandering around during class time, someone will remind him where he needs to be.  When one has a runny nose, someone will find her a tissue.  Everyone helps out the small children.



I have never seen a child complain while pushing Ian’s wheelchair.  I’ve never seen a child reluctant to lead Charity where she needs to go.  I’ve never seen a small child ignored when in need of help.  I’ve never even seen a child need to be asked to do any of these things.  They just do them.  These children are so much like the Samaritan in Jesus’ parable.  When they see someone in need, they help, even if it’s uncomfortable for them. 

So often, I think I am the priests in Jesus’ parable.  I see someone in need, but I am too busy to help.  I am too comfortable to help.  I am too distracted by my schedule and my technology and my things to even notice.  And this hurts the people I ignore, but it also hurts me.  When one human loses their dignity, my own dignity is lessened if I do nothing.  When one human feels unloved when I have had the chance to love them, it is my heart that is hardened as well as theirs.

God, help me to be more like these children.  Open my eyes to see those around me who need to be shown your love.  Give me the courage to love others as you have loved me, to live in the shelter of those around me, and to work for the good of all instead of just for the good of myself.

Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3...

Some days, what I’m doing here feels almost glamorous.  I’m getting covered in dust, loved to pieces, and making a difference in the lives of these kids.  Following God’s call can lead to doing wonderful things in exciting places.

But following God’s call isn’t always so glamorous.  This week at Tania, the kids are taking end-of-term exams.  This means I’m not teaching any classes, just proctoring exams.  Which translates to hours of sitting in a silent, cold room each day watching students take tests.  It’s not exotic or exhilarating, but it’s necessary.

That also means I probably won’t have any interesting posts this week.  Sorry, folks.  Remember, eyes on your own paper.

Slice of life: fishing for dinner

One day last week, as I was hanging out with some kids after school had ended, someone yelled something in Swahili to the children, and they all got up & started quickly walking down towards the lower part of the school grounds.  It turns out they were going fishing!  The school has several tilapia ponds, including a large one that a student told me has 8,000 fish in it.  This day, however, they were just fishing the two small ponds.

As we walked down, one of the children asked me how we go fishing in America.  They thought it was hilarious (and mind-blowingly inefficient) that we use a line and a hook to catch one fish at a time.  I discovered, as we approached the pond, that fishing here meant a handful of the older boys were moving a net as large as the pond from one end to the other, scooping up the fish in it as they went.

The children loved watching, and once the net was pulled out of the pond, they eagerly helped pick the fish from it to put in the bucket.  We all shared a lot of laughter as they tried to hold the squirmy fish for a picture.

Of course, the boys who did the fishing took the opportunity to get in a little swimming after the net was pulled out!  The ponds usually have a net stretched across the top to keep birds from getting the fish, so it was a rare opportunity for these boys to have the net up and no fish in the pond.  They were all shivering from cold when they climbed out, but I’m sure they thought it was worth it!

As many of you probably know, I am a vegan/vegetarian (depending on the food sources), but in Kenya, I do allow myself tilapia since I know where it comes from.  I especially love when I see it caught fresh!  Someone must have heard me telling some of the children that I love tilapia, because someone sent one over to the house where I’m staying for me to have for dinner that night.  They spoil me so much!  Nothing beats fresh, Kenyan tilapia mere hours after it’s been swimming through the pond.

And a child will lead them

Since arriving at Tania Centre, time and again I have been astounded at just how much these children are capable of.  Sunday’s church services are no exception.  At 7:00 AM every Sunday, the children and teachers gather in their dining hall for church.  Of course, this is 7:00 African time, so when I walk in the door at 7:05, they are still in the midst of setting up the sound equipment, and only a few children are there.  But the few children who are there are the ones setting up the sound equipment!  It seems to be the middle schoolers who are in charge of sound, and they need no guidance, as I’m sure they’ve been doing it for several years.

When the church service started my first Sunday here, I think I may have been the only adult in the room.  That was no hindrance to them getting started—a group of three girls (one 6^th grader and two 4^th graders) led the singing, while a small group ranging in age from 1^st grade to 8^th grade led in dance.  One of the 8^th grade boys played along a little on the keyboard for a while before the pastor (who also happens to be the main church musician) stepped in and took over.  It was so beautiful and humbling to see such young children leading each other (and adults) in worship.

Some of the worship leaders:

Most of the songs were in Swahili, so I couldn’t sing along much, but I did catch the occasional “wewe ni Bwana” (you are Lord) that I understood.  As the service kept going, more children trickled in.  It both amused and amazed me to see the little 3- and 4-year-olds walk in by themselves, find a chair, and behave better than many teenagers that I’ve seen in church services in the US.  (No, I’m not talking about our wonderful FCBC youth!  :-)

After 45 minutes or so of worship, it was time for class presentations.  Each class came up, and if any of the students had a song or scripture or dance they wanted to share, they could.  Even those itty bitties took to the microphone like pros, introducing themselves and saying what they had to share.  One 4^th grade girl decided to sing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” for us, much to everyone’s delight.  (It’s almost Christmas in July, right?)  This week, I had been teaching some of the kids the motions for “Deep Down Boogie” (a UW song from sports camp a couple of years ago) so we presented that this morning.  Next week I’ll have to remind them to bring their recorders, since the pastor is requesting a presentation from the “flute group”!

When it was time for the message, the younger students left for Sunday School, but the 5^th graders on up stayed with the teachers for the message.  After the message, a basket was passed around for offering.  It was extremely humbling to see children with toes sticking out of their broken shoes and holes in their school uniform (their Sunday best) so eagerly reaching out to drop a coin in the basket.  A modern day widow’s mite right before my eyes.

Being a teacher and having a children’s pastor for a roommate means that I believe in children as leaders, and I know they are capable of so much more than many adults believe.  But I am still blown away by how much these children are teaching me about leadership, humility, and courage.  May God help me to always be open to learn, even from the littlest among us.

The hard places

I’ve tried writing this blog entry a few times over the past 24 hours or so, but it never seems to come out as well as it did in the email I sent to a few people last night, so I’m just going to copy what I wrote there.

Today I was given a reminder that these children, despite their great affection for others and their enthusiasm for learning, have not all had an easy life.  I was giving a recorder lesson after school to one of the teachers, and one of the special needs students followed me into the classroom and was hanging out during the lesson. 

This student is probably about 10 years old.  He is hearing, but non-verbal, sometimes making sounds, but never words.  He alternates between giving me a huge grin while running up to grab me in the most violent of hugs, and zoning out into another world entirely.  He has a tendency to eat anything and everything, and in the middle of my lesson with the one teacher, he decided to eat an entire piece of chalk, and proceeded to choke on it.  We got him outside because he looked like he was going to throw up, but he ended up coughing for a minute, then he was fine. 

The teacher explained to me that this particular student came from an area in Kenya that was pretty hard-hit by the post-election violence in 2007-2008, and a lot of his behaviors are probably a result of that.  He didn’t get enough to eat during the violence, so now he eats everything.  He most likely has PTSD, and she said sometimes he will scream and have fits like he’s seeing something that no one else can, probably flashbacks to the violence.  It is hard knowing that this sweet, loving boy is suffering so much through no fault of his own.

There is another girl here with lots of anxiety issues who often chews on her fingers, and the teacher told me that she was in the area affected by the post-election violence, too.  She had been left in the forest by her mother, because her mother believed it was safer for her there.

It’s easy for me to take special needs in stride, being a teacher.  A student can’t hear?  She can still follow directions, feel the vibrations of the music, and participate.  A student can’t use his right hand?  He can still play the notes from G on up on the recorder.  But, having gotten to know how wonderful and loving these children are, it’s hard to take in stride what some of them have been through to get them here.  No child should have to worry about being left alone in a forest.  No child should be tormented by memories of events that he shouldn't have even had to witness at all.

Living in a broken world hurts.

Teaching in Kenya

On my 2nd full day at the Tania Centre, I was able to start teaching.  The head teacher was very organized and already had a schedule written up for me when I arrived, which was huge in helping me prepare.  I got to jump right in with my favorite level, Class 4 (equivalent to our 4th grade).  They were so eager to learn and, just like American children, had trouble keeping their recorders silent when it wasn’t time to be playing.  I can hardly blame them, though, as they were so excited to learn an instrument.  When their regular teacher returned at the end of music time, they proudly taught him how to play B, A and G on the recorder.  It was so wonderful watching my students become the teachers after only half an hour of instruction!
I’m also teaching recorder to Classes 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, and 8, and I am so, so proud of how quickly they take to the recorder.  The little ones have a hard time keeping the holes covered with their itty bitty fingers, but they love it just the same.

One challenge that I wasn’t expecting was having deaf students in my music classes.  I thought the deaf students were in a separate class, but they are integrated into the general classrooms with the other students, so they are learning recorder along with the rest.  The hearing students and teachers who know sign language are helping to interpret what I say, and I am truly impressed with how well they play.  Most of the deaf students seem to enjoy it just as much as the hearing students.  One deaf girl from class 5 even found me during break today to show me that she remembered Hot Cross Buns:

I can’t forget to thank the music teachers at Woodburn Elementary and Mantua Elementary for donating old recorders for this trip—I’m so grateful to teach in a district with the ability and willingness to use its resources around the globe.

Monday was my first non-music class—Class 7 English.  I’m not overly comfortable teaching anything other than music, so I was a little nervous going into this class.  Luckily, the class has already covered their syllabus and is just doing revision for their upcoming exams, so all I need to do is follow along in their revision book.  I’m trying to get them all involved & reading out loud, but it’s a challenge with two deaf students in the class.  Some hearing students who know sign language well are able to translate, though, so everyone can still participate.

Class 7’s classroom:

 Kenyan class times aren’t as precise as American class times, and since the bell ringer’s watch was off by 15 minutes, we accidentally ended English 15 minutes early.  No one seemed overly concerned about it, though.  It’s hard to wrap my head around when I’m used to every last second of class counting, and even being 1 minute off from the rest of the school can cause a lot of stress on other teachers in America.

Teaching here has reminded me just how much I love teaching.  I had a rough time this past school year that left me wondering if teaching is where I should be, but teaching in a new environment for the first time in 5 years has reminded me that yes, teaching is absolutely what I love to do.  I can’t imagine anything making me prouder than the light in a child’s eyes as they learn to do something they haven’t done before, or as they share their new-found knowledge with others.  In the hustle and bustle of education in America, it’s sometimes hard to notice those moments.  I hope to remember this when my next school year in America starts, to keep my focus on why I love what I do, and what a privilege it is to work with young people.