Good Heaven’s We’re Poor!

There have been many times in my life as a clinician that a patient has told me that though they had little money growing up, they never knew they were poor. I have come to know there are levels of wealth and poverty and money is only one measure of despair. However, today I learned a real lesson about the people I serve in Kenya.

It was a beautiful dry fall day here in Boston. The end of summer, a tap on the shoulder to remind us those colder days are almost here. I went to meet Phillip in Belmont. I brought a couple friends, one who had just finished working in Tanzania. We talked about the possibility of collaborating on clinics with Phillip, who though Kenyan, had worked primarily in Tanzania. I was startled to hear that where S worked there were plenty of chickens and cows, land was not a problem and eggs were abundant. None of that exists in Nambale. An egg is precious, and the children rarely if ever have milk. Phillip laughed with that full round smile that Africans make, and said indeed it was true. There were many well educated people who came from Nambale, but they always left and that it was one of the poorest places he knew of. I thought of my Luhya friends who had led me there, and yes they are very well educated, but no they don’t live there. They live in other parts of Kenya.

Phillip did encourage me to continue in Nambale.He encouraged me to speak straight, tell them what I wanted to do and that they would respond positively. (Goes against that Community Org. degree I got ages ago).
I was delighted to hear from Charles today. He said that the schools had sent their reports. He said I should check the stamps to see when they mailed them out. Dear man, he tries so hard and he is stretched so thin. I pray the papers are on their way, since grain is cheap now and we could buy so much more if they have done their homework. (Ha! Teachers late with their homework)

It is only 4 weeks until I return. I have so much to do. But I am beginning to see the path once again. I pray I can get in touch with someone from Kiva to talk about micro-loans. I hope someone will come to the schools to help train the villagers. I hope I can get Phillip to consult on the project without requiring too much money since that is always a problem. But I am relieved to have found my footing again.

Since I have always known either Siaya or Nambale, the grinding poverty I see I think of as normal for rural Africa. Now I know it is not. God surely has a sense of humor. Once upon a time when I was young, a national magazine wrote an article about my school and called us “Suburbia’s Coddled Kids”. I did grow up in great affluence and never would have thought about fire ants and malaria and braiding my hair to keep it clean because there are no showers. But I love what I do over there and God is God. And now I understand, “Good heavens, we are poor”….