This is part two of an article about a short-term trip I led to the slums of Nairobi.  To read Part I, click here.

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We Take Requests

The second thing we did differently is a lot more important than it might look at first glance:  Everything our team did to help was based on requests made by our host ministries (for example, the topics we covered at the business seminar were suggested by Pastor Fred).

We didn’t come in with xyz initiative and say, “tell us how we can make this happen.”  We came in with open hands and said, “tell us how we can help you!”

Hearing the stories of small business owners in slum communities allowed our team to see how deep the issues of poverty really go.

The best example of this came from the financial commitment the guys on my team decided to make at the end of the trip.  After seeing the work of Tumaini Church and hearing about the church’s plans for building a new sanctuary/classroom to reach more community members and students, we decided as a team to commit to fully funding the project.

What would a trip to Kenya be without goofing around with kids?

We didn’t offer money with a list of preconditions attached.  We didn’t come in with the answers to all of Kibera’s problems.  We simply heard what a local organization was doing to restore their community, heard their dreams for the future and decided to help bring that future just a little bit closer to the present.

Partnering with the Long-Haulers

Third, we looked for ways to partner with people who will be doing this work long after we have gone home.

As Americans, it is all too easy for us to throw our energy and money into “quick fixes.”  We want to see results now! But our obsession with immediacy can often end up causing great harm over time (e.g. Feeding hungry people by donating tons of free rice, only to watch the local rice industry shrivel due to a lack of business…).

By sponsoring the construction of Tumaini Church’s new sanctuary, we are helping Pastor Fred and his team to do things their way.

Learning about the realities of poverty from inside a small pork butchery.

Will it be a state-of-the-art facility? Nope.  Will it be a perfect multi-purpose building that will solve every problem faced by the church in one fell swoop?  Nope.  But will it be a sustainable project thought up by Tumaini Church itself and constructed using local labor and materials?  Absolutely.

Beyond Emotions

Finally, we worked hard to develop concrete “next steps” so that we can continue our engagement long after the emotions fade.

Short-term trips are the breeding ground for broken promises.  “I will never take clean water for granted again!”  “I will always remember this moment when I go grocery shopping back home.”  “I will stay in touch with my new friends forever.”

The fact is, real life makes it hard to run at the same emotional high we had while standing in the middle of a slum.  And more often than not, it doesn’t take too long before we find ourselves right back where we were before the trip.

Tumaini Church’s current building. The new one will be three times as big and will allow them to add 90 students to their elementary school!

To counter that reality, my team took several steps to keep our level of engagement high.

First of all, as I mentioned above, we committed to fully funding Tumaini’s building project. That money isn’t going to raise itself!  It’s going to require each of us to pull our friends and families into the life-change with us for months after returning home.

Second, we “friended” our Tumaini buddies on Facebook and committed to keep each other accountable about staying in touch and praying for them.  It helps that our Kenyan friends like Vincent are really great about keeping relationships alive.

Finally, we came up with an exercise that will undoubtedly keep our hearts and minds in the right place.  In November, the guys in our group will try to live out the command to “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” quite literally.

For 30 days, we will give away $1 for every $1 we spend on ourselves (that includes rent, food, utilities… everything!).  Not only will it help us to be more generous, it will help us to think more carefully about how we spend our money as well.

All of these things will allow our trip to continue changing us even after life has returned to “normal.”

Our team (clockwise from top left): Me, Jeff, Dave, Beau, Coty and Cameron.

Who’s Next?

So there it is.  My first attempt at leading a “new” kind of short-term trip… Was it perfect?  Nope.  Did I avoid every pitfall mentioned in When Helping Hurts?  Probably not.

But did I fulfill the mission of World Next Door by getting suburban Americans involved in social justice without doing more harm than good?  I really think so.

With that in mind, there is one question I need to ask: Who’s next?

Many short-term “missions” trips end up doing more harm than good.

There. I said it.  As American Christians, we spend millions of dollars every year sending people around the world to “help.”  But these well intentioned teams often end up playing right into the systems of injustice that keep people locked in poverty, helplessness and despair.

Well then. That’s a cheery opening to an article, isn’t it?

I apologize.  I am just really fired up right now.  For two reasons.  One, I recently finished an incredible book called When Helping Hurts: How to Alleviate Poverty Without Hurting the Poor… and Yourself.  It is a must read.

Can American “suburbanites” spend time in a place like Kenya without doing more harm than good?

In the book, the authors explain something I’ve been learning firsthand on all my local and international trips for World Next Door.  Our good intentions are not enough.  If we’re not careful, we can end up harming the very people we’re trying to help.

The book puts into words thoughts that have been developing here on World Next Door for years (Don’t believe me? July 2009, September 2010, April 2011…). Reading it was a huge confirmation that we’re on the right track with our philosophy of ministry.

Our primary objective was to learn.

The Second Reason

But I said I’m fired up for two reasons.  The second reason?  I just led a short-term trip team made up of American businessmen. I took them into Kibera Slum in Nairobi, Kenya for a week of intense experiential learning and discovery.

But wait just a minute, Barry.  I thought you said that short-term trips were bad!

Ah, but that’s exactly why I’m fired up.  This was no ordinary “missions trip.”  This trip was a new kind of short-term trip. One of a growing number of trips that don’t fit the usual mold… One that leaves both the trip participants and the ministries we came to visit stronger and better off than before.

I’ve been on several of these “new” kind of short-term trips through my church, Grace Community in Noblesville, IN, but this was my first attempt at designing, organizing and leading one myself.

And let me tell you… From everything I can see, it was a huge success.

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Hearing the stories of amazing leaders like Jane Wathome of Beacon of Hope was central to our trip.

“So,” you might be asking. “What made this trip different?  How were you able to bring American businessmen to Kenya without doing more harm than good?”

Good question. Let me try to briefly explain how our trip attempted to break the mold…

Meet the Team

Our team was made up of young businessmen who have been in a discipleship group together for a couple of years. I joined the group about a year ago.  When our leader, Jeff, asked what we wanted to do for our annual team retreat this year, I threw out a crazy suggestion.  “Let’s go to Kenya!”

I honestly didn’t expect anything to come of the idea.  Until this trip, only a couple of them had ever visited the developing world before, and none of them had been anywhere in Africa, much less inside a Kenyan Slum.

Our team visiting the home of Pastor Fred.

Imagine my surprise when the response was a resounding, “Let’s do it!”

Out of nowhere I found myself responsible for taking four 20-something guys and the CEO of a large international company into the slums.

I wanted the trip to be different, so I got to work designing a tailor-made experience that would be life-changing for the guys but also helpful and honoring to our Kenyan hosts.

It was definitely a challenge, and there was no guarantee that it would work, but in the end I feel that we accomplished our goals…

Learning, Not Doing

First of all, our team spent our time learning, not doing.

Many short-term trip teams travel far and wide with the express purpose of digging a ditch or painting a wall or something.  While this is not necessarily a bad thing, having a big to-do list in front of us can keep us closed off from deeper partnerships and learning opportunities (“What do you mean ‘Take a break so we can meet some of your community’s leaders’? We’re on a schedule here!”).

Our business seminar was mostly discussion-based.

Instead, our team came with little on our to-do list besides “Hear Pastor Fred’s story,” “Learn about leadership from the staff of Beacon of Hope,” “Visit homes in Kibera,” “Pray for Tumaini Church.”  Not exactly a lot to accomplish.  But it gave us the flexibility and freedom to stay open to what God would want us to learn.

Now, we did end up teaching a simple business seminar for neighbors of Tumaini Church in Kibera (arguably doing, not learning), but even that was discussion based: our team asking lots of questions instead of coming in with all the answers…

Want to hear what else we did differently?  Click here to read Part II.

I am always humbled when I think about the incredible work being done by my friends around the world – dedicated servants giving their lives for a cause bigger than themselves.   And rarely is that more evident than with my dear friends in Kibera Slum.

Despite great emotional hardship, unrelenting physical problems and a constant lack of material resources, the leaders of Tumaini Church continue to press on.

One of my newest friends in Kenya…

This summer, I once again had the tremendous opportunity to live in Kibera and spend time following these leaders around.  Although most of my time this summer was spent caring for our summer interns, I did have several chances to write about my experiences.

What I discovered is this: the kingdom of God is breaking into the slums of Nairobi, but it isn’t coming with much fanfare or applause.  It is breaking in through the quiet, ongoing work of servants who are unafraid to give everything for the cause of justice in the world…

Back Again

What is a video-game playing, latte drinking, lawn mowing suburbanite doing living in a Kenyan slum?

Click here to read this article…

A Loss for Words

After hearing George’s story, I was completely speechless…

Click here to read this article…

A Breathtaking View

What do you do when someone you love has a medical emergency… and the doctors do not care?

Click here to read this travel journal…

Photo Gallery: Problems or People?

Ever wonder why so many of our good intentions in the slums of Kenya come to nothing?

Click here to see this photo gallery…

Culture Guide: American Chopper

Renting a motorcycle for the day so I can learn how to ride: $10. Learning in rural Kenya while dodging cows on dirt roads? Priceless.

Click here to read this culture guide…

My time in Nairobi, Kenya transformed me in a way I didn’t expect. I knew that living in a foreign country would affect my heart for the needy and my knowledge of the world, but I didn’t prepare to change as a writer. On an everyday basis I found stories that I couldn’t get out of my head and faces that wouldn’t leave my heart.

As I worked alongside the incredible staff at Beacon of Hope, their passion and everyday faithfulness compelled me to change the way that I wrote and the way that I looked at the world.  By the end of the summer, I found I had become a storyteller, someone who was involved and affected, not just an observer.

The stories I found made me look past the ugliness of dependency and the tragedy of desperation to be able to see the beauty of hope.  That hope came from the ways Beacon of Hope empowered the community to sustain themselves and worked to heal the hurts of those in need.

There is joy and hope in every circumstance.

But it wasn’t easy. Some situations that I encountered were uncomfortable to think about and some images I captured were hard to look at. There are stories I couldn’t tell because I couldn’t process them while they were happening. Now that I’ve returned home, I’m asking myself questions about compassion, service and justice that are too disconcerting to have easy answers.

Still, somewhere along the way I’ve come to the conclusion that searching for hope often shows you more darkness than you’d care to see. It’s easy to be overwhelmed by the needs in the world, the crushing darkness of poverty, hunger, and corruption. But no matter what the situation is, no matter how hopeless it seems, I’m more convinced than ever that God’s redemption covers everything.

There is no circumstance beyond his control, no person beyond his reach. In the mess of the world, God still has a plan… and His story is the one I’m really telling.

Better Plans

After coming to Kenya, I found out not being in control was harder than I thought…

Click here to read this article…

Photo Gallery: Creating a Future

Classes at Beacon of Hope are giving women more than just new skills…

Click here to see this photo gallery…

The Exceptions

What happens to the ones you can’t help?

Click here to read this article…

Without Words

So much can be communicated without using words.

Click here to read this article…

One of Them

Despite our differences, I’ve never felt more at home.

Click here to read this travel journal…

Burdened

There’s one need I can’t keep to myself…

Click here to read this article…

I spent June and July of 2011 with ZanaAfrica, an organization that works to empower girls in Kibera slum, Nairobi with a surprising tool: sanitary pads. I may not have understood the burden of menstruation to women living in poverty at the beginning of my trip, but I quickly learned that even something as natural as a monthly period is limiting the potential of impoverished girls all over the world. Luckily, ZanaAfrica is working to stop this.

These girls have bright futures ahead of them.

During my time with ZanaA, I traveled with field agents to schools in Kibera where they distributed sanitary pads and held monthly EmpowerNet lessons to teach computer skills and discuss important topics like self esteem, sex education, and basic health and hygiene.  Spending time in Kibera was often overwhelming and frustrating, but I was moved to find that so many intelligent, motivated girls are able to stay in school for the entire month because of the help they’re getting from ZanaA.

ZanaA is communicating the love of God through actions—they show girls that they are treasured, valuable young women and not burdens. These girls have so much to tell the world. Feel free to read their blogs and listen to this song they want to share.

Stay Safe!

After a brief meeting with Zana Africa in Nairobi, “stay safe” is a request that I don’t want to follow…

Click here to read this article…

Empowerment to EmpowerNet

How nine little laptops are connecting the girls of Kibera slum to the world.

Click here to read this article…

Photo Gallery: Girl Power in Kibera

See how Zana Africa is helping unleash the potential of girls in Kibera slum with computers and sanitary pads

Click here to see this photo gallery…

Men Who Fight for Women

Men talking about pads? Read why we’re never really “out of place” in the fight for social justice.

Click here to read this article…

An Education in Education: Part I

My experience as a Kenyan high schooler (aka my most frustrating day of school ever).

Click here to read this article…

An Education in Education: Part II

Day 2 of Kenyan high school: a refreshing look at what’s here instead of what’s missing.

Click here to read this article…

Photo Gallery: The Future of Kenya Speaks

Read what ZanaA students have to say about themselves and the future—things are looking bright!

Click here to see this photo gallery…

“Epic,” “legit” and “rad” are words in my everyday vocabulary.

Naturally, I thought my summer kickin’ it in Kenya would be all of these things. I was wrong.

I lived in a townhouse. I played Hide-and-Seek with my Kenyan little sister, baby brother and cat, Tracy. I worked at an office controlling Tanari Trust’s social media.

Most of the time, I was uncomfortably comfortable—eating fast food, watching new releases and using indoor plumbing.

Kenya’s future entrepreneurs.

While I yearned for unknown adventure, I found myself surrounded by the unexpectedly ordinary.

And I discovered that I kind of dig typical things.

I like following an office dress code if it ushers me into community. I like going to camp if it reminds me of my beliefs. I like hanging out with teenage girls if it inspires me to change the world.

God has this thing for the ordinary.

At least that’s what I learned this summer surrounded by a welcoming family, loving coworkers and boy-crazy future entrepreneurs.

Transforming the ordinary into the extraordinary.

I guess it was a pretty rad summer after all.

Stuck in the Suburbs

When I learned I was spending the summer in Kenya, I never imagined my life would be so intriguingly ordinary!

Click here to read this article…

Better Than Alright

Change starts with a girl…

Click here to read this article…

Modest is Hottest

Apparently, the clever ladies’ Christian T-shirt adage is right—at least in Nairobi!

Click here to read this article…

Kingdom Camping

Sometimes salvation is closer than it seems…

Click here to read this article…

Photo Gallery: Young Entrepreneurs

All it takes is a girl.

Click here to see this photo gallery…

The Measure of Success

They say, “A business is only as good as its product.”

Click here to read this article…

The staff members at Tumaini Clinic are cut from a different cloth than most mortals. They willingly operate on the front lines of true change, despite the hardships they must confront both outside and inside the clinic.

Just last week, I was in the outpatient area when I heard a scream echo down the clinic hallway from the maternity ward.  This is not so uncommon given the number of births that take place on a daily basis, but this sound was different. It was a shriek of distress, not physical pain, so I went to investigate the source.

I passed her on my way to maternity…an anguished woman being ushered to the waiting area by a man I assumed was her husband. I walked past them into the birthing room, where a rolling cart now served as an emergency exam table.

The birthing room was filled with medical personnel, all huddled around the little girl’s convulsing body.

Lying on the table was a little four-year-old girl with tightly braided hair. She was clearly unconscious, but her body still moved. Her arms shook with subtle tremors, her mouth clenched shut, her eyes rolled back and her legs contorted in an unnatural pose.

A handful of medical personnel surrounded her, their mood tense. But their voices were composed and their movements controlled. Each played a part, like a sports team or an orchestra, and together, they acted as one.

The girl was in the midst of a fever-induced seizure, and the clinic staff was in crisis mode.

Maternity Nurse Jackie wraps a newborn in warm cloth.

A few hours before, the family had brought the child into the clinic and explained how she had been battling illness for days, which included terrible diarrhea along with fever.

By the time she arrived at the clinic, she was completely dehydrated and barely conscious. As soon as the nurse injected her with the appropriate medicine, her depleted body reacted violently, throwing her into the convulsions the staff now battled.

Two nurses pried her jaw open and forced a tube down her throat to allow airflow; others stretched and massaged her limbs; another injected more medicine to counteract the initial reaction.

Finally, the tension in her body eased, and her muscles slowly relaxed…she was going to pull through.

Puzzling Problems

The girl’s blood work indicated that she had stage III malaria (the most severe), coupled with typhoid fever.

Both ailments can be deadly but are completely curable if caught early and treated. Many families in the slums, however, wait days too long, hoping the sickness will abate. Lives are often lost as a result, and staffers are left helplessly shaking their heads.

After stabilizing the girl’s condition, the nurses asked the family to bring her back the next day for follow-up treatment.

The family never returned, and the staff wasn’t surprised. They’ve seen it plenty of times before, and they’ll certainly encounter it again.

In the meantime, staff members have other issues to worry about and more uphill battles to fight.

Medical Officer Eric finishes bandaging the ear he just reattached.

On average, they see 3,000 patients a month, and nearly every imaginable infirmity comes through the front doors of the clinic, from leprosy to AIDS and everything in between.

In my first week at the clinic, a lifeless man was dragged into the clinic by two friends, blood streaming down his swollen face. A victim of “mob justice,” he had been beaten nearly to death.

Nearly a month ago, an unconscious middle-aged woman was carried into the clinic by her grown daughter. She died soon after…the regrettable result of poisoning from ingesting too much homemade liquor, often laced with questionable chemicals (take a look at this article on the subject from The Economist).

And a few weeks back, a man came in with his ear almost completely detached after he was struck by a rock. He initially went to a nearby hospital, but left after waiting for hours without assistance.

These are the realities the staff must deal with on any given day. Malaria, typhoid and yellow fever are like common colds to them. Yet they still find the ability to treat every patient like a VIP, offering compassion and genuine concern.

The contrast to other medical facilities in Nairobi is palpable (read Barry’s article “A Breathtaking View” to see the other side).

Voluntary Sacrifices

Staff members at the clinic “preach without words” like no one I’ve ever met, and they do it willingly and without fanfare. They’re at the clinic 24 hours a day, 365 days a year,

During the day shift, about 15 to 20 employees meet at 8am and start the day with devotions and singing, which includes a cappella harmonies I likely won’t hear again this side of heaven.

Of the day shift, a half dozen or so are “frontline staff”…the do-it-alls who rotate through pharmacy, reception, cashier’s station, kitchen and maternity on any given day. Two or three nurses and medical officers work the outpatient area, treating upwards of 100 patients a day. A couple of technicians work in the lab doing blood tests and diagnostic work.

Lab Technician Everlyne prepares to draw blood from a patient.

Two or three midwifes and nurses work the maternity ward, which averages nearly three deliveries every 24 hours. A couple of managers try to minimize the general chaos, and a security guard keeps watch at the front gates.

At night, two people operate the clinic, and a different security guard keeps vigil. Of the staffers, one is a maternity nurse ready to usher in any new babies. The other is a “frontliner,” who’s there to clean the entire clinic and to assist the nurse with any maternity duties.

The night shift is a skeleton crew, and if any complications arise with a pregnancy, it gets far worse. The nurse must accompany the mother by taxi to a referral hospital when those occasions occur, and the frontliner is left to care for any other moms-to-be by herself. It’s far from ideal, but the clinic’s limited finances don’t allow more personnel.

The fact of the matter is that the clinic is in a constant battle to keep its head above the financial waterline, and its birthing services are the sole reason. While maternity expenses for a birth average about 5,000Ksh (Kenyan shillings, or about $60USD), new moms only pay between $10 and $20, depending on their financial ability. So with 70-80 births a month, the fiscal hemorrhaging is constant.

Frontline Staffer Emily prepares a bed for a new mom in the maternity ward.

Change for the Changemakers

In all other areas, the clinic is self-sufficient, but the maternity ward costs them dearly.

Every single member of the staff is grossly underpaid as a result, from security and frontline staff to medical officers and managers. Honestly, it’s one of the greatest injustices I’ve witnessed since arriving in Kenya, particularly given the monumental work that they do.

While the general deprivation in the slums is clearly severe, it’s a large-scale problem that will take generations to remedy. The staff salaries, on the other hand, can (and should) be improved with relative ease. It’s a solvable problem with a realistic solution.

To gauge their monthly pay, I asked around to get a handle on salaries in other non-profit organizations in Kenya. For the lowest entry-level employee, the average was 16,000Ksh, or about $190 a month.

When I inquired at the clinic, my jaw dropped. For frontline staff, the average entry-level is 3,000Ksh, or $36 a month. Same for security. The highest paid employees (those just short of doctor status) receive $320 a month.

If Tumaini’s ‘Mother Theresa’, who reached out and touched the Tragic Trio, worked at any other medical facility in Kenya, she would be making two to three times as much.

If Cecilia, who helped Winnie find hope in a hopeless situation, worked at a different non-profit, she would be making five times as much.

An Appeal

The staff members at Tumaini Clinic get paid little but deserve far more.

So I write today to make an appeal to each one of you. I write today to raise money solely devoted to staff salaries. This is a chance to have a direct impact on the lives of those most deserving…an opportunity to enhance many lives with a few dollars.

The clinic’s mantra of VIP treatment should begin with its staff, particularly since many of them live in Koch, the very slum in which they work. They should be given the necessary boost to improve their own lives and the lives of their families.

These are folks who choose to labor in the trenches day in and day out, doing the dirty work and making the sacrifices that few in the world are willing to do. They are welcoming strangers. They are healing the sick. They are nourishing the poor…mind, body and spirit.

The least we can do is help our brothers and sisters afford the opportunity to break the cycle of poverty that many of them have also inherited, and continue to endure.

This Summer, I’ve learned a lot about the challenges that girls face living in Kibera slum, but they have far more to say about their hopes for the future than their fears. The students in ZanaAfrica’s EmpowerNet classes have big plans.

Read what they shared with me about the future, what they’ve learned from ZanaA, and things they want to share with other girls.

They say, “A business is only as good as its product.” There is some truth to this statement.

With all the well-intentioned Nairobi nonprofits I’m bumping into every day, it’s difficult to tell what’s working, who’s helping and how, if possible, I’m supposed to get involved.

Young Entrepreneurs (YE) is an exception.

While people certainly aren’t products, the alumni of YE—who each help facilitate two cohorts of teenage girls in either the Kawangware or Mathare slums—are certainly the measure of the success of Tanari’s newest initiative.

A week or so ago, I had the pleasure of interviewing the YE alumni regarding what the program means to them and why they take time out of their busy schedules every week to voluntarily give back to their communities.

I became endeared—once again—to the fierce, tender hearts of young women determined to overcome seemingly inescapable circumstances.

Take Alice, Milly, Peris and Suzzie, for instance.

Alice (Photo by Barry Rodriguez)

Just ordinary girls ushering other girls into extraordinary transformations.

Alice & Milly

“Before, I didn’t have enough confidence. I used to be shy.”

Alice, 22, was quite straightforward when I asked her to tell me about YE. She lives with her mother and five younger siblings in Kawangware. Her parents separated as she was finishing college. She hasn’t seen her father since 2009, despite the fact he lives just 30 minutes away in Nairobi.

When Alice first heard about YE from her sister, she wondered why she should just sleep, cook and eat, when there was a free program that could help her help her family.

“Now, I don’t depend on my parents for what I can do on my own.”

Her co-alumnus, Milly, became involved for similar reasons.

Milly first heard about YE through a “door to door” visit from one of YE’s facilitators.

“We saw we could do something for ourselves.”

Milly (Photo by Barry Rodriguez)

And Milly certainly has. Perhaps YE’s most successful entrepreneur, Milly sells her colorful, beaded jewelry at Maasai Market—one of Downtown’s hottest tourist attractions. Yet, like Alice, she wants to be helpful to other ladies and is thankful for the opportunity to mentor younger girls.

Peris & Suzzie

Peris, the eldest of the alumni duo volunteering in Mathare, credits YE with helping her provide for her family. At only 23, she is married and the mother of a 5 year-old daughter and a 3 year-old son.

Peris’ fruit juice business is a vital part of her family’s income. Through YE she learned the skills needed to develop a business plan and manage her records. She also linked with an IT class for further training.

Like Alice in Kawangware, Suzzie—the youngest alumni—used to be incredibly shy. However, by the time she finished YE’s 6-month program, she was the Chair Lady of her cohort of nearly 50 girls.

According to Suzzie, the most important lesson she learned from YE is, “I am able.”

Suzzie & Peris

Her greatest desire for the girls she now teaches is they stop discriminating against themselves and learn to support one another through the lifelong friendships they form through the classes.

Surmountable Circumstances

All of the alumni were quick to note the challenges facing the girls enrolled in the YE program. Some are teenage mothers. Others are high school dropouts. A few are prostitutes.

“They’re just there,” said Alice, describing girls forced into early marriages and even, at times, to live on the streets.

But at YE club, the girls regain their dignity. Provided with I.D.s, YE facilitators train them how to compose a résumé and practice job interviews. Every time they attend class, they receive $1 they can use to buy food or invest in their experiential business. They can even choose to save as YE partners with another nonprofit which helps the girls open their very own bank accounts.

Achievable Dreams

Newfound skills and confidence enable the girls to dream.

Alice hopes to one day own a business where she can make and sell complimentary dresses and jewelry. She plans to live in a big house with a swimming pool and plant a garden where she can grow bananas, greens and corn.

Making and selling bangles is a popular YE business

Milly wishes to marry her boyfriend, Leonard, and have two kids. She hopes her jewelry business grows internationally. Most of all, she wants to change her environment. While she genuinely loves her home, Milly wants to get out of Kawangware.

Peris desires to return to school to study accounting, and Suzzie wants to operate her own salon when she isn’t traveling for her simultaneous soccer career.

Like Milly, I see that these girls can do something for themselves, and along with Suzzie, I chant, “You are able!”

And while the girls currently going through YE may learn how to make juice, style hair or sell fashion accessories, I acknowledge with them that their personal transformation will certainly be their greatest product.

What greater success could anyone ask for?

(For the protection of those involved, the names and images connected with this story are merely representative of the individuals described)

I’d run out of stories. Or at least, stories that ended with hope. I was discouraged, feeling helpless in the face of the needs that I saw every day. I was so tired of being unable to fix things. But then unexpectedly, all of that changed.

I met a victim that didn’t act like a victim. I found a story finally worth telling. And I heard a request I couldn’t ignore.

The Question

She caught up with me one day as I hiked up the hill from lunch. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t hear her until I felt a soft touch on my arm.

“Are you walking awhile?” she asked, as her strides matched mine.

When I met Anne, I instantly loved her gentle smile and admired her patience. We laughed and talked easily whenever we met.

Still, I could tell our conversation would be an unusual one.

She asked me about all the everyday things like work and family. I answered hesitantly, unsure of what was coming. When she ran out of questions, Anne paused and took a deep breath.

How humbling it must have been for a mother to ask for help.

“I need to ask you something,” she finally said. We slowed to a stop as I braced myself for the plea for money or the tears I assumed were coming. “My daughter Leah is bright.” Anne said. “She’s turning 13 and going to class one next year.”

He voice was even as she said it, but I saw a flicker of emotion in her eyes.

“My husband left a few months ago,” Anne continued. “There are four of us and it’s hard. God will take care of us, but I’m worried about Leah. She must continue in school and I have no way to pay… I need your help to find her a sponsor.”

The Pause

She dropped her head as she finished, refusing to meet my eyes. I could see how much it pained her ask for help. But she didn’t beg or complain, she just asked.

And she did it in such a humble and honest way that I had no idea how to respond.

Anne told me she had been praying about her situation and felt God was leading her to talk to me. She’d avoided initiating the conversation, but knew I was leaving Kenya in just a few weeks.

“I’ve met so many other white people,” she said. “But you’re different. I knew I had to talk to you about it.”

The only thing that bars so many young women from a meaningful future is the funding for school fees.

I realized her request wasn’t the same as the others I’d heard. It wasn’t like the small children on the street who endlessly begged for coins or like the grandfather who’d tried to sell me his grandson our first week in Nairobi.

It was selfless and vulnerable. The plea of an everyday mother who loved her child so much she would ask a virtual stranger to help, to intrude into their lives.

I found myself asking when I could meet Leah.

The Answer

The following Saturday Anne and I arranged to meet at a gas station and then walk to her home.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’d been nervous the entire morning, questioning whether I should go at all. What if I couldn’t help? What if the situation was hopeless?

But I went. And my throat grew tight when we met and I saw her face light up.

Anne had the most precious little boy clinging to her back. “My youngest, Alex,” she explained, as he peered at me, curious. At the gate to her compound a face peeked through the bars and then disappeared, giggling. “And that’s John, he’s 6,” she said.

She pulled back the curtain that hung in her doorway and welcomed me in. I squinted in the sudden darkness to find a single room divided into two with a sheet.

Leah can’t wait to work toward becoming a doctor.

I smiled as I saw the Mickey Mouse stickers that covered the television set and the notebooks filled with children’s drawings. Anne and I sat and sipped tea for awhile, until I heard rustling behind the curtain divider. I looked to Anne for an explanation. “Leah, can you come here please?” she said.

A young girl peeked around the divider, hesitant. Leah’s dark eyes looked at me uncertainly. She nervously smoothed bright purple skirt, scattered with sparkles. Something about her was so adorably thirteen.

The Reason

“You’re beautiful!” I blurted out, provoking a timid smile.

I asked Leah what she’d been so busy doing behind the curtain. “It’s Saturday, so of course you aren’t studying!” I said with a smile. “I am,” she replied. “But it’s nice outside!” I exclaimed. She simply nodded.

Anne told me someday Leah wants to be a doctor. She’s one of the best students at her school and next year, she wants to go to an all girls academy with challenging programs.

Leah left to finish her work while my conversation Anne turned to the idea of sponsorship. I told Anne that in all honesty, I couldn’t afford to personally sponsor Leah. Not on a college student’s salary.

I was nervous for Anne’s reaction, but she simply nodded. “I know,” she said. “I just think you can help. You can tell someone about her.”

That’s when the reason I was there clicked. Leah needed someone to tell her story, someone who could communicate all the joy and curiosity that spilled out from her eyes. Someone who could explain just why Leah needed to succeed.

In the fall, Leah hopes to join young women like these at a private academy.

And that’s when I found my story with hope.

I didn’t promise Anne that I would find a sponsor, only that I would try to.

Still, I think I did make that promise to myself.

Somehow, it’s going to happen. Whether that means I get a third job this year, I become independently wealthy (hah), or one of you, dear readers, connects with this story.

And that’s not a sales pitch. It’s a statement of God’s faithfulness to those he loves.

Those like Anne, who humble themselves for their families, for those like Leah, who spend their sunny Saturdays inside with dreams and textbooks …

And those like me, who still long for hope in a broken world.