Cancer

Harambee was a great time. It was amazing to see how beautiful the center was, all the
people having such a good time. We did well for our first fundraiser and I thought how grateful I was to everyone who helped. I hope they appreicate it in Kenya. It was a lot of work.

I wanted to wait until it was over to write this piece. It was written a couple of weeks ago but for obvious reasons I figured it was better to wait.

I called my doctor on Friday, mostly to complain about how tired I was after the surgery he had performed the week before. I assumed everything was all right since I hadn’t heard from them. It’s that joking with God thing that I always seem to get caught in. When the secretary put me through to him, I thought it’s just because we are old friends, Dave and I. Alas, he cut right to the chase and said cancer. That’s when my listening skills went right out the window. I was lucid enough to get the names of the doctors he wanted me to call on Monday (which became Tuesday since in Boston we must take the entire day off to run the Marathon or watch it or something else which no one in the other 49 states does).

In hindsight, I think Dave held his own quite well as I argued with him that I needed the surgery to wait until after I got back from Kenya. He averred and said it might be possible, but that I would have to wait and talk to the new surgeons. So we finished up and I sat with it for a while. Then I called my amazing daughters who rallied within moments of notification. They got busy taming their fears by calling each other and setting up a conference call with me for Saturday.

I have often quoted Micah and truly I believe in the quote. The doing justice and loving mercy comes quite easily to me, but the humility part with Him leading, I really suck at that. I fool myself from time to time that I am a good do-be and am walking with humility, but I’m just fooling myself. Now the real work begins.

First I had to hear that I might be sick for more than 10 minutes. My daughters would have to come and help me. I would need my friends to help, my church. And I was not going to be able to go to Kenya the end of May. God give me Grace to accept the things I cannot change. I got there by Sat. afternoon when the girls called back to discuss the game plan. Wow, they were so organized and had it so under control. Hey isn’t that my job? No, now it’s your turn to receive.

Church was a bit of a bear. My pastor knew that I had had surgery and came up to me right away to ask. His wife was in a wheelchair next to him, she’s still recovering for horrible surgery for another form of this particular beast. I told him it was cancer, and both he and Lin hugged me and tears welled in their eyes. Later, as Lin struggled to stand and say thank you to the Church for all that it had done for her and their family she also announced that she wanted the church to pray for me. Me, no, I pray for others.

When Scott came over to me and asked if I wanted to say anything, I wasn’t prepared, but here’s that walk thing. God held me up and I was able to say with some kind of grace that I understood what God had in mind and it has to do with allowing others to minister to me and to do so with humility, something I don’t do well. Lin and Scott are a remarkable couple who live their lives as beacons of light, grace and love. All that they have been through becomes my guide for how to do this. I pray I do it half as well.

It is now 3 days since I got the news. I’m trying to get life in gear. I’ve been on hold with the airlines for almost an hour waiting to change my plane reservations. I know I’m talking to some guy in India. He must be used to people screaming at him, since he keeps apologizing for keeping me waiting. This would be the 3rd time I’ve changed the ticket.

The villagers did not send out their receipts as of a couple of days ago. I do not need to rush back there. They must learn to get them to me on time, and they will now have another term to prove to us they can be good business partners. Going in October is probably better for the program and it kind of brings the lesson of who is in charge home. Hey, I can get the hang of this.

Then it was errand time. I had to go to the Christmas Tree Shop, Staples, Costco and Kappy’s. If I skirted the city I wouldn’t get too caught in the annual bedlam of Marathon Monday. I had to get a pile of stuff for the fundraiser on Friday. I was fine until I was in the middle of Costco and it dawned on me that I would be giving up control of my house. People would actually be coming in and running it, mostly my daughters, but others. What would they want to eat? (Yeah, you know I can’t give that up completely), and how was I going to handle that? When they left would I be able to find things? It’s amazing how your brain can wander in all kinds of directions. I’m down with that as well now, it just sort of comes and then I realize ok, yeah, that too. It’s all part of this journey. The gospel song goes “Wouldn’t give nuthin’ for my journey now”. True but we’re gonna do it anyway.

Friends, if you are reading this, don’t be afraid, don’t cry, don’t fret.It seems that as soon as I can think of something that might be a hassle, I'm fine. I have this new bracelet with feet on it and it says "This is when I carried you". I know He will. I know where He wants me, I know the lesson He wants me to learn, and if He decides to take me home, I think He won’t be pissed at me. So join me on this journey, I think we're all going to learn something.

OnceAgain

And now the work begins. Despite running a practice and getting ready for our fundraiser, the real work, my heart work now begins, returning to Kenya. The papers are not encouraging for crossing the Rift. (See article below). However my heart sings as I plan my quixotic way across my beloved country. How shall I get the job done?

First I want to go to my church in KARI. I can use my trusted driver, Francis for that since he is Kikuyu. I have heard from my pastor over there, that things are better, but not stable. She sounds so tired and weary. I do not know what I will find at KARI, but what I know is that some of my friends and my beloved African sister shall be there. I hope it will be a day of some happiness and peace, though it will be mixed with sorrow and loss for all who will no longer be there.

I met a fascinating Masai chief while last in New York. I’d love to go visit him and check out his area as a possible site for One Village. I suspect if he can he will guarantee me safe passage to Shompole, though I must pass through Nakuru where the Mungiki are running amok. I think back on when I first went to Kenya I knew nothing, and so with the faith of a child I was safe. I still believe that as a child of God I shall be safe.

Next I must work on getting across the Rift. I can fly from Nairobi to Kisumu I hope.I do not know what I shall find in Kisumu, though I know there is a lot of burnt carnage sprawling along the city streets. I cannot take Francis with me for it would not be safe.He is Kikuyu and this is Luo/Luhya Land. Ochieng will meet me in Kisumu. I just spoke to him on the phone. He was so happy to hear from me. He is Luo and has safe passage in the areas we must traverse. I would have liked to go up to Kitale, but even I am not going to try making that trip. I hope the Bishop I have written to from Kitale will be able to make it down to meet me in Kisumu. He is Kisi but should be able to make it if he avoids Mt. Elgon.

I must contact Daniel now. I want to spend an evening in Kisumu and hear from him what his take is on matters in Kenya. I have always relied on Daniel to speak the truth. His eloquence and perception often leave me speechless. I don’t think he is 30 yet his wisdom and analysis have helped me grow in so many ways. I owe him a great debt though he would never imagine it.

As I sit here, I must plan how I shall attack the problems I have with the schools not reporting as they must. Shall I be stern or shall I be asking them to teach me how to teach them? I don’t know yet, but I begin my deliberations. I will pray on it, I will seek advice from my board and from my advisors, and then I shall try and be fully present in the moment and let it happen. It’s that Micah thing you know.
“What doth the Lord require of thee…to walk humbly with thy God”. So He’s probably going to have to slap me around a bit, but we’ll get there.

And now the news of the day.

Railway services suspended

Story by NATION Reporter
Publication Date: 4/16/2008

Rift Valley Railways Tuesday suspended its passenger services indefinitely following Monday’s destruction of a section of its railway line by members of the outlawed Mungiki sect.

A drailed passenger train after Mungiki youths destroyed a section of the railwayline at Dandora, Nairobi on Monday. Passenger services have now been suspended. Photo/PETERSON GITHAIGA
Although no passenger was reportedly hurt in the early Monday morning incident, two commuter trains were derailed in Nairobi, after the Mungiki followers, operating under the banner of the Kenya National Youth Alliance destroyed sections of the line.

The action piled more misery on Rift Valley Railways (RVR). Last week, about 500 meters of the Gatuikira section of the line in Kibera, Nairobi was uprooted by residents of the neighbouring slum, protesting the delay by President Mwai Kibaki and Prime Minister Raila Odinga in naming the Cabinet.

That action paralysed commuter services to Kisumu from Nairobi, and cargo freight to the Kenya-Uganda border at Malaba. The routes that have been affected by Monday’s Mungiki mayhem are the Ruiru-Kahawa and the Makadara-Dandora routes.

The Embakasi train, however, picked and dropped commuters in the city centre. Confirming the suspension, RVR managing director, Roy Puffett, said that the disruption of the services was temporary and that they would resume as soon as calm returned in the country.

“It is unfortunate that we had to suspend these services especially at this time when rail transport had returned to normal,” said Mr Puffet.

He added: “We take utmost responsibility in safeguarding the security of our passengers as well as protecting our assets.”

In the Monday incident, two commuter trains had their locomotives and coaches derailed after protestors removed the railway lines in two separate incidences.

The suspension could not have come at a worse time for RVR — the Kenya-Uganda railways concessionaire, still reeling from similar damages it incurred during the January’s post-election violence, when protestors in Nairobi’s Kibera slums, angered by the declaration of Mwai Kibaki as president by the now discredited Electoral Commission of Kenya first targeted the railway line.

At the height of the January violence, which broke out following the December 27 General Election, various sections of the line were also vandalised.

Mungiki

Time grows short before I leave again. I try to read the Kenya papers every day. Today they are rife with the reports of the Mungiki. They have terrorized before, these descendants of the Mau Mau. Some read the papers and become afraid and want to warn me off of my trip. No, I shake my head, I shall not be moved. I live in a city where children are gunned down every week. Are we any different here in Boston? These same fearful people who want me to stay don't even notice the body count in our own city. Sometimes I hang my head in shame, since I don't keep count that well either.

Two weeks ago a child named Acia was burned to death in her apartment. She was 14; her 3 year old sister was killed also. One of my clients sent me the news clipping, Acia was her student. Another client who worked in Acia's school commented on this child's death. Evidently Acia was a real rising star at her middle school. She was also a child of poverty, the raw biting kind that comes from urban poverty with drugs and guns and old rickety buildings that burn to the ground because of space heaters. Is she any less a victim of the "Mungiki" than the gangs that roam the streets of Nairobi. She was left by her mother who went for a drug run. Are they not all children of poverty whose stars are extinguished by violence, or negligence or both?

No one is really considered brave if they go into Dorchester. Perhaps they might roll the windows up in the really tough areas, but teachers go into the "hood" every day and try and bring hope to the children. The teachers go into Charlestown and Chelsea, to Roxbury and Mattapan, pushing back against the "Mungiki" who steal the children to the streets. No one thinks they're brave, but I do. They go into the war zone every day and come out a little battered. I am privileged to work with some of these brave hearts who pour themselves into the embittered souls of the children, trying to breathe light and hope into the darkness that resides within them. And sometimes they succeed and for a glimmer of a moment hope is spawned.

For me, I go to Kenya, for others they go around the block. You see, we can either be afraid of the Mungiki or stare them down and grab each child's soul and struggle to keep it alive however we can. So tonight I pray for all the children, the ones up the block, the ones in the streets of Bangkok and Nairobi and the ones silent in the suburbs. I pray that we leave fear behind and stretch out our arms and embrace them all.

Home

I came back to the motherland yesterday for a quick visit. It's incredible how beautiful it is here. I miss the south, I miss the civility, the warm moist smell of the soil, the slower pace. The ride to Charlottesville is always a favorite. I pass through the battlefields of Manassas where they were putting up new rough hewn log fences, I see the hills spilling dandelions across the slopes and forsythia waving it's yellow arms recklessly up to the sky. Long carpets of daffodils lay before me, and it's spring and I am glad to be here.

As I look up at the sky, though, I think of Kenya and my heart warms to that. I think of the rivulets of red that pour over my feet when it rains, the incredible noise of the droplets on the tin roofs. I smell the air rich with the aromas of flowers and damp and my heart swells to that as well. I shall return soon, and it will be a difficult trip, as they always are. It's not the travel, though that can be exhausting, it is the mission that I carry on my back.

These worlds I live in, each has it's expectations of me, and I of them. My Board, patient and generous with their time, is pushing for fiscal responsibility both here and in Kenya. The schools and people over there, not understanding what their tasks are to be accountable to us irritates me. I have gone over and over the requirements, I have taught it, I have given them forms, I have taught it again, and still the idea of being fiscally responsible escapes them when it comes to the Muzungu. My white skin must mean I am a donor and not really serious about what is needed. But I am serious
and the exhausting task of raising money must bear some fruit.

I am grateful to our treasurer. She is clear, concise and enormously talented. She reminds us all that the frantic activity we are now undertaking to raise the money needed for One Village must be more measured and methodical. I am glad she has stated the obvious. We cannot continue to rely on God's generosity, and she is right, it is better to give a little that can be counted on that to up the ante. When I go, I must explain that as well.

I love my worlds. I love my Boston world as well. So what is home? Once someone predicted that I would have no home, because I would belong to the world. I find that truer each day I live. I move between worlds and delight in each and feel pain in each. No one place has the right to call me theirs, but I suspect each do. I am Mama Susan in Kenya, Mom down here in the south, and Mother Madrigal in Boston. Sometimes it's lonely, sometimes I shout with joy over my freedom.

I guess home is where my heart is, and each place has a piece of it. So often people struggle with belonging to someone or some group of people. I think one of the greatest things I got when I turned 60 is that you don't have to worry about that. It doesn't matter, for in the end if you run your life around who you belong to you might end up missing so much of life for fear of angering the person you belong to.

Home, in the end is really just clicking the ruby slippers 3 times and appreciating where you land.