Mathare Catch-Up #1

Today was Mathare, which was tough. We went into the day knowing that Mathare would be a more difficult day—a “less nice” slum than Kwa-Njenga. Last year, one of the first things I saw when we got out of the bus at Mathare was a crying baby. Daniel and I walked over to comfort him and I think I picked him up and he eventually stopped. Interestingly, today I had a similar experience. As soon as we got out of the bus, we noticed a little girl crying, and Matt, Dakota, and I all speed-walked over to her. (Which I thought could potentially be a scary sight, rather than a comforting one…) I knelt down and kind of gave her a hug, and she stopped crying right away. But I was still sad to leave her when we had to start our tour of the school and slum. It was kind of a somber beginning to the day…

During our walk through the slum, I sometimes didn’t pay that much attention to my surroundings, because I was just focused on trying not to fall into the streams of sewage. I think I didn’t completely let everything I was seeing sink in, because I didn’t feel like I could completely process it while still focusing on just not slipping and falling and staying together with the rest of the group. The living conditions were noticeably a lot worse, though. It’s hard just walking through the slum, jumping over “streams” and squeezing through narrow alleys under hanging laundry. We got to visit a few homes, as well, including the home of the woman who cooks for the Mcedo school. Just being in the tiny, dark space that is home to family with 6 kids (I believe) was hard to take in. I can’t imagine calling that cramped room my home. I felt so disgustingly spoiled when thinking about my own standards of living and how often I take them for granted… It also always blows my mind to see how welcoming and thankful the mothers are who invite us into their homes. They seem to feel so blessed to have visitors, but when I see their living conditions… I’m amazed they could keep such a positive spirit. Oh, also, the first words out of the woman's mouth when she was told to introduce herself to us were, "Hello," her name, and "I am saved." I thought that was pretty cool.

Eventually (after the painting project), we went back to the church to play our worship concert and for Trenton to give his message. I entered into the church room through a side door that only opened slightly, squeezing past a little girl who was standing in the alley peering into the church. When I got inside and looked back out at her, I realized she was the same girl who had been crying when our bus first arrived. Dakota and I went over to her and asked her her name, but we couldn’t understand her quiet answer, spoken through her hands in her mouth. The girl stood in the doorway for some of the concert, just watching, and I would periodically smile over at her during the songs. When she wasn’t there after the concert, I looked for her in the crowds of kids. Later, her older sister told us her name was Michelle, and that she had gone back home. She wasn’t one of the school children, just a child who lived in Mathare. But Michelle stayed on my mind, like she had some little piece of my heart… oh, how cliché-sounding..

Anyway, the church room where we played our worship songs was hotttt and crowded with hundreds of kids. But Matt rallied them up in the time of worship and led us in teaching them the motions to Every Move I Make and I Am Free, and the kids really embraced the songs. Once again, that was so cool to see. How awesome is it that we can worship with children in Africa… who speak a different language, live a drastically different lifestyle, and live thousands of miles away, yet worship the same God. :) Our God is so …big. “And that is special, wowww. “ (Attempted Mcedo schoolkids reference… :P)