The Village People!

Today marks the end of the first week, which were days of excitement and anxiety aroused from entering a completely new environment—an environment imbued with unfamiliar dangers and conventions. As the week has come to a close, my mind has started to relax and I have been able to analyze my situation more clearly. The recurring conclusion over the past few days has been this: I have been blest. This opportunity of mine in Kenya is by all means extraordinary.

Here is just one of the reasons why I have been blest:

On our final destination in the Bush, Fr. Chris and I found ourselves in a locale tucked far away from civilization. It was amidst hills strewn with brambles, rocks, and ruddy dirt—a place vaguely reminiscent of the Texas Hill Country.

Upon arriving at a small village, we came upon some of the elderly sitting outside one of the quaint houses, working on making rope from the strands of a local species of plants.

As more of the elderly came, the group gathered in a circle so they could engage in a discussion with Fr. Chris (whose childhood was spent in this very village). I simply sat and listened, as Fr. Chris and the local villagers spoke in their native dialect known as Kikamba (Fr. Chris was the only one that could speak English).

After about twenty minutes of discussion, Fr. Chris informed me that the villagers wanted us to wait, because some of the elderly and a few of the young adults were still walking to the gathering from their homes outside of the village center (note that no body in the village has a car). While we waited, Fr. Chris and I walked about, so he could show me the details of the project he wants me to help with.

Fr. Chris stated that the locals have been asking for a Catholic church for several years now, as the nearest one is several kilometers away. Presently, instead of attending mass, the villagers hold prayer meetings in some of the local houses. However, there are 200 villagers, which means they cannot worship together, although the Kamba tribal people are very close knit and the church serves as the center gathering place of the community.

For this reason, Fr. Chris stated that he wanted to raise money to build a church in the village, although the building would cost $20,000. Once it is built, the priest from the closest town has already committed to holding mass every Sunday at the new church. Fr. Chris then asked me, “Do you think this is a good idea?”

I looked at him, then I looked slowly across the village, and then I peered back at him. I stated, “I don’t want to say that this is a bad idea. However, look at this village. Would we be maximzing the use of $20,000 if we built the church, considering how scarce our funds are in Kenya? These people drink the water from the river, they seem to have relatively primitive farming techniques, they have a horrendous road that leads into the place, and they have absolutely no access to electricity. Could we not utilize the money in a different way to greatly improve the standard of living in the community?”

Fr. Chris smiled, and then responded, “As you know, they have access to the well that was developed by me several months ago, and they go to it when the river dries up (the well is a located a little farther off). Also, the land is productive and many of the young adults are now employeed in the local stores, so they do not have trouble with food supplies. The people might be poor, but they have all of their basic needs met. Yet, as you have seen in Kenya, the church would be the source and pride of their community. Furthermore, attached to the church will be two classrooms, which will be used as an early primary school/nursery, since the school closer to town does not offer Pre-K and Kindergarten (ages 3-6 in Kenya).”

While this sounded nice, I hadn't made my mind up about the church yet.

As we finished our discussion and tour around Fr. Chris’ childhood stoomping grounds, we returned to the gathering. More people had come, and they were enthralled to see a Mzungo walking about in their village, so they looked at me with perplexed but excited stares. The ladies were working on shelling beans, as you can see below:

After Fr. Chris opened the meeting and discussed the present situation with the church, he told me that the villagers present wanted to sing one of their spirituals for me! Here it is in living color:

After the singing, Fr. Chris had a short meeting with the chairwoman of the church project, and I found the children! After giving them high-fives and fist pumps (which is traditional Kenyan), we took some pictures:

If I stumbled upon such a village in America a mere week ago, my heart would have ached with sadness and pity. Look how little they have! Yet, I believe that sadness would have been a deception. What would bring greater joy to the lives of these people? Would it be material abundance, which is attached with the stress and worries of modern life and the depressing realization that you could always have more? Or, would it be a spiritual home, where the villagers can gather together to kindle their simple faith in a God that brings them peace and purpose, and where they can gather together to revel in their vibrant community? If these people have all of their basic needs met, I say the latter. This may seem starkly wrong to the American mindset, but I wouldn’t expect that many Americans have seen the joy born from simplicity as it is manifested in rural Kenya.

Over the next week, I have decided to start this project. I will be in contact with friends from back home to help me spearhead fundraising, and I will ensure that Fr. Chris and I have all of the details about construction and the use of the building afterward planned out.