This is a unique account of my time in Joska. I sincerely know no other way to effectively communicate what I experienced, so I hope this does it well. This is my gift to you.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………..
I am keenly aware of the inability of my words to convey the magnitude and depth in which I wish to describe something. I think that is why I have delayed so long in writing anything that encapsulates (or attempts to do so) my thoughts and feelings in regards to our time in Joska. Even while in Kenya, when I wrote in my journal each day, I was often at a loss for words, not knowing how to describe the people, the land, or our experiences. As I wrote, I realized that the things I wanted to remember were the things that would not last beyond our time there; I wanted to remember what each of my senses were registering- not just what I saw, but also, and perhaps more so, what I smelled, what I touched, what I heard, and what I tasted.
As I wrote each day, I recounted the things that had most intrigued my senses. The objects my eyes kept drifting to, the smell that lingered in my nose, the feel of objects and people that met my hands, the sounds that echoed in my ears even after they vanished, and the tastes that danced in my mouth.
These are the things I do not want to forget…
I will not forget the feel of the children’s hands and the feel of their fuzzy little heads. I will not forget the feel of the soil, dry and dense from lack of rain. I will not forget the strength of the older boy’s hugs. I will not forget seeing some of the most brilliant smiles I have ever seen (Lazarus, Regina, Boaz, Ismail). I will not forget the rawness of Nairobi. I will not forget the kindness and graciousness of the Kenyan people. I will not forget the smell of the dust that long lingered in our nostrils. I will most certainly not forget the sharp smell of sweat, both from the children and from our own bodies. I will not forget the beautiful sound of the children laughing. I will not forget the long sweeps of time with no noise except the distant sound of cattle or children. I will not forget the sight of the vast landscapes that seemed to sprawl indefinitely. I will not forget the deep and rich smell of the soil. I will not forget Edgar and his kind eyes. I will not forget the feel of the breeze as it whirled over us and cooled our bodies as we worked. I will not forget the brilliant colors in the markets that lined the streets from Nairobi to Joska. I will not forget the feel of the giraffes and the sight of their absurdly long black tongues. I will not forget the patience and gratitude that the children displayed when receiving their shoes. I will not forget the sounds of the Kenyan people singing to us, with its robustness and beauty. I will not forget the sound of David’s prayer as he prayed for John, a 12-year-old boy who had never walked or spoken. I will not forget the sounds of my teammates as each one of us quietly mourned during that very prayer. I will not forget the sight of my sponsored kid (man), Ismail, as he worked with such strength and efficiency. I will not forget the sound of David’s voice as he drove us, rather propelled us, along the rocky roads of Kenya. I will not forget the joyful sounds of Bwana asi fewai, which means “Praise the Lord” in Swahili and is always followed by a rousing “Amen”. I will not forget Esther and her eyes that literally seemed to call out to us. I will not forget Boaz and his smile in which I was certain I could truly see Christ. I will not forget the sound and Spirit-breathed peace of Mercy’s prayer as we arrived in Kenya haggard and slightly defeated. I will not forget the sight of increasingly larger amounts of people from the community coming to join us in digging the trench. I will not forget the sounds of Ismail and I whistling together as we walked towards the trench to begin digging for the day. I will not forget the tiny face of Joyce, the first child I was able to hold (pictured above). I will not forget the sight of the beautiful children that we met during each of our house visits. I will not forget the Stephanie’s story about pelicans and God’s sovereignty. I will not forget the sounds of the prayers poured over us as we prepared to leave Joska. I will not forget the sounds as the children from Joska danced and sang with such vigor and joy.
These are the things I will not forget.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………
Trinityjoska.blogspot.com
Flickr.com/photos/treeswillclap
