SERV Ministries International

From his May 2009 mission trip to Kenya -

I have been blessed to have been able to experience Kenya this May. I had heard about Lodwar and seen pictures but I knew that nothing could begin to compare to physically being there. I was very fortunate to be able to go to Kenya with Steve Kasha and my dad, Lee.  I do not think they will ever know what it meant or how much it has affected me to be able to tag along with them.  I was able to experience Kenya first hand from a unique perspective guided by the leadership and experience of these two men.

Standing on the dirt runway the first time I arrived in Lodwar, it became clear to me how isolated this location is.  The hot climate along with very low annual precipitation causes Lodwar to be a hard environment to grow crops.  In Lodwar, livestock are considered much more valuable than currency.  Most citizens of Lodwar do not have enough money to buy quality crops.  More devastating is the fact that there simply is not enough rainfall to grow steady supplies of crops.  The only water available to drink is full of bacteria and so brown that it resembles tea.

My first time at House of Hope, the staff had the children sing a couple welcoming songs for us.  Then afterwards we went outside to play soccer and throw Frisbees with the kids.  As I observed the children playing, it occurred to me how much happier these children were than the ones I had met in the town of Lodwar. They laughed and smiled all of the time.  The staff at House of Hope have all completely dedicated their lives to the orphanage.  Working at House of Hope isn’t just a job for the staff. It is a major part of their life.  A few staff members live at House of Hope with their entire family. It is hard to describe this type of dedication that the staff at House of Hope have for their cause.

The whole time we were in Lodwar, Pastor Thomas of House of Hope was always with us to help anyway possible. He was always willing to use his talents of knowledge, language, and friendship to help us. On our last day in Lodwar, he asked us to stop by the hospital to pray over his sick baby boy. His son was lying in his mothers arms wrapped in a tiny blanket. It was obvious how sick this baby was because his eyes were rolled so far into his head that they were white and he would take such long breaths then exhale extremely slowly. As Steve prayed over Thomas’ son, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of sadness and I began to cry. The next afternoon we received word that Pastor Thomas’ son had died.  I could not believe that when his son was dying in the hospital, Pastor Thomas would rather spend time helping the ministry. This is the type of dedication that I am trying to convey.

Across the road from the House of Hope, there is an I.D.P. (Internally Displaced People) camp.  These people are refugees that had to flee their native homes because of violence from the government elections. There are over 800 people living on the land designated for them. These people have been forced to build homes out of anything they can find. Most homes are huts built out of sticks with dirt floors. When we visited the I.D.P camp for worship service, hundreds of people were crowded around a single tree that provided virtually no shade.  They explained that they do not have anywhere else to meet for service. After worship service, we distributed the dehydrated food to the residents of the I.D.P. camp.  Even the cardboard boxes that packaged the bags of food were in high demand.

In Nakuru, we visited a hospital where Joseph and Molly work at regularly. Joseph and Molly are missionaries from Florida who have completely dedicated their lives to living in Kenya to help those who need it. From the first time I met Joseph and Molly, I could tell right away how completely solid they were. They have both heard God’s call to help those in need and responded. Joseph and Molly seem to radiate God’s love from deep inside them and it is clear as day when you meet them.  I am so grateful to have met them and honored to have them as my friends.
Walking into the hospital it was obvious by the concrete walls and open-air windows that this wasn’t the type of hospital that I was used to visiting. Nothing can prepare you for an experience like this. No pictures, discussions, or testimonies can even begin to compare to being in that hospital. In this hospital, there are no sheets on the bed, the walls and floor are all bare concrete, and your family must bring you food. If no one brings you food, then you do not eat.

As soon as we entered the first ward, it is hard to describe the feeling that rushes through your body. It is as if you can feel the sickness in the air. My senses were overwhelmed everywhere I turned.  The smell is so indescribable that I could actually taste it in my mouth and, even thinking about it now, I begin to smell it again. The first ward we went to was the children’s burn ward.  Little babies, most of them still in diapers, were lying in beds with their mothers and I could see the pain on their faces.  Most children in this ward are burnt from boiling water being accidentally spilled on them. Their skin is all blistered and puss runs from their wounds. The only treatment they were getting was salve rubbed on their burns. They receive absolutely nothing for the pain because the hospital does not have medicine to give them.  I remember a particular girl was burnt so badly that her skin had turned to a light gray shade. Even though it was obvious she was in unimaginable pain, she still managed to sit up and smile and make me feel like she was greeting an old friend.  As I talked to these babies and their mothers, I remember a particular moment when my Dad and I had them laughing because of our terrible pronunciation of Swahili words.  When I was in the children’s burn ward, I started to feel emotions that I had never felt before.  The only way I can relate this new emotion is a feeling of livid anger mixed with severe sadness. I was angry because these children were horribly burnt and there was not anything I could do about it.  I was struck with sadness because I felt for these children and their families having to rely on this hospital. It makes me angry to think of people living their lives who don’t have any care for these children. It makes me angry that people who know that this is going on do not do anything to help them out.

After the children’s burn ward, we visited the AIDS ward.  This was a life changing, eye opener for me. In the AIDS ward, people were virtually skeletons. I have never seen anyone so skinny.  I do not know how it is possible to be this skinny and still be able to breathe.  In the AIDS ward, I met Grace. Grace never said a single word to me, but every single day since I saw her, I stop what I’m doing and think about her. Grace was lying in her bed in the AIDS ward. I have honestly never seen anyone look this sick in my life. Her skeleton of a body was curled into the fetal position and her head seemed to be the largest part of her. Grace was far along with the AIDS virus. She was paralyzed from the neck down. She was covered in bedsores and she was forced to stay in the same position because no one would move her. No one seemed to care about her except for Joseph.  On the other end of the ward, they had prisoners with AIDS handcuffed to their beds. The guard watching them explained that the handcuffs were so the prisoners would not run away.  I found the handcuffs unnecessary because these men did not have enough strength to even sit up and feed themselves, much less run away.  That day in the AIDS ward, two people accepted Christ as their Savior.

I am forever thankful to Molly, Joseph, Steve, and my dad, Lee for opening my eyes and showing me these experiences. Those people did not choose to have AIDS and be dying in a concrete room.  Just as those children did not choose to have boiling water spilled on them. Just as the children at House of Hope did not choose to have their family members all die so they have to live in an orphanage.  This is the same that we did not choose to be born in America.  One important thing I learned while being in Africa is that I am no different than the man I saw chained to a hospital bed dying of AIDS.  The unconditional love shown by God to all humans should be powerful enough for us to help out our brother and sisters.  What we need to do is choose to help them.  I have seen extreme poverty, people dying in hospitals, and people starving to death; it is my responsibility to share it. God has given me the opportunity to see how most of the world lives so that I can come back to America and share their story.

In Matthew 25:40 Jesus says, “I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me”.  I believe that Jesus is telling us that wherever we go, always have a willing heart to help those in need whether it is in your own community or in northwest Kenya.

Note: Cole is the 20 yr. old son of SERV Board Director Lee Johnson.