Cindy’s Visit to meet Familia Girls
Where do I start? I’ve been supporting my sister Julie and her charity Kenyan Kids for over thirteen years now and when, during January and early February of this year, I faced some serious health issues, I felt this trip to Kenya, especially as I’ll be 82 in a few months’ time, would be a now or never trip
I knew it was a daunting ambition and those who know me would say I’ve already lived a full and fruitful life, yet something was pushing me to see and fully understand Julie’s passion for this project. After all, how can anyone have a real understanding of poverty and hardship without seeing it first hand?
As it was, I can honestly say from day one of my arrival, my life became inexorably changed.
Julie and I flew to Nairobi via Paris, then onto Kisumu airport which is on the east side of Lake Victoria. From there we were picked up for the 25-minute transfer to the tiny rural community of Pau Akuche, hardly marked on the map.
As we got closer, the skies darkened and pulling up at the gates of the girls’ rescue home, the heavens suddenly opened completely drenching our patiently waiting welcome party. Even the torrential rain couldn’t blot out the enthusiasm of the girls as they all lined up chattering and obviously excited about our arrival.
Sheila was the first to welcome me as she opened the car door. I remember her saying Karibuni and then as I climbed out, I was surrounded by smiling faces and arms reaching out for on the spot hugs in spite of the bouncing rain
If you asked for my first impression of my arrival, what could I say?
Humility instantly springs to mind being greeted by such love and mmediate acceptance. Now even after three weeks, the girls smiles and hugs have never diminished. If possible, they’ve increased.
Each evening after a long day at school, they’ll arrive at the door, take their dusty shoes off, and come in for a hug and a ‘How was your day?’
Every morning, I am woken by the bird song and bright sunshine. As I lie in bed, I hear local women passing my window on the way to collect water at the pond, plastic buckets balanced on their heads, children on their back wrapped in brightly coloured cloth slings. As I open my window, a few women are working on their crops. They always wave their greetings to me. It’s now that I begin to smell firewood as the girls start cooking a breakfast of tea and mandazi, little donuts, in a pot of hot oil balanced on three stones. I’d probably stay in bed a bit longer, relishing in this haven of peace and tranquillity, but then one of the two house cats will jump through my window and begin yowling for breakfast.
The girls, whether in school or not have a strict routine. By 8 am, they are mopping floors, cleaning the compound, getting Fabian up and dressed. During term time, the house is quiet as even the younger girls are out of the house by 6 am.
In the last 8 years, Julie has been concentrating on creating a safe and welcoming home environment for vulnerable girls. Each of the girls who welcomed me that first day has a particular story of physical or sexual abuse.
However, when I’m among their happy smiling faces and easy laughter, it’s hard to imagine, their lives have ever been any different. They share stories leaning into each like most young girls do, joking and teasing and falling off chair with laughter but just before everyone climbs into bed, they group around, holding hands and pray for the world. They pray for each other, they pray for those guiding them, they pray for absent families, they pray for every donor who has ever helped provide for them. That first night, they thanked God for my safe arrival. This initial experience of being part of their prayer circle was overwhelmingly emotional for me. Without a doubt, it’s their strong faith – that and their shared experiences of abuse, that holds them together.
Over the coming days, I felt very spoilt. The girls lavished care and attention on me. Perhaps it’s because they don’t have access to the usual teenage distractions, but they seem to genuinely want to spend time by my side, whether doing some baking with me or just holding my arm as I navigate some tricky ground or some steep steps.
On arrival, Cynthia, my namesake, asked if she could unpack for me. Within minutes, everything was regimented in my wardrobe, neatly folded and in order. My daily shower consists of a kettle full of water added to a huge bowl of cold water drawn from the well.
Even three weeks in, the kettle has been put on to boil for me every morning before I’m even awake. It’s hard to take so much without giving anything back.
Each girl is as generous as the other. Regardless of age, they do their own cooking, cleaning up after themselves, doing their own laundry. I kept wondering why my shoes kept disappearing until I realised the younger girls were cleaning them each and every time, I wore them. I begin to wonder where I ‘went wrong’ with my own children!!! No dishwashers here or automatic washing machines. I feel it’s like living in a 50s time warp.
Already, I’m counting down the days before we leave as we still have so much to do. I’ve visited local schools and seen children as young as 3 years (so desperate to start their education) yet crammed into a dirty, airless shed (for want of a better word). It’s this situation that Julie wants to change, providing a much better environment for young children to learn in.
A group of student nurses from Finland arrived at the weekend. When they too saw the home that’s been created here, they said nothing they’d seen since their arrival could compare to what’s been built here.
Each of Julie’s girls are now ambassadors for helping those less fortunate in the area. It’s the girls themselves who suggest projects that can help their local community such as the football match that took place last weekend. After a tiring match, some snacks and a welcome soda, Julie’s girls handed out reusable sanitary pads to those who needed them most.
Over the remaining days of this trip, I’ll be visiting two of the slum villages where some of the girls originally came from. For me, it’s important to see where all of this started but for now, I can’t quite get my head around the diversity I see here. One minute, we’ll be driving through a leafy suburb with big houses and obvious wealth. The next minute, I’m being approached at a busy roadside junction by a ragged and barefoot child trying to sell me soap. Yes of course, we have poverty in England but here, the gap between those who have and those who have nothing seems insurmountable. Take for example, little Fabian, the child who was found under a bunch of rags. Disability is so often hidden away in Kenya. When Julie, Small and Sheila happened upon him by accident, they knew they couldn’t leave him behind.
Today, almost two years on, and diagnosed with CP, he attends regular physiotherapy in the hope that one day he will lead a fuller, more independent life. He still needs constant care with toileting, dressing and bathing but with his infectious joy and mischievous personality,
Fabian is always at the centre of things, joining in with the fun and games, surrounded by a veritable harem of girls anticipating his every need!
I truly wish I’d done this trip years ago. It’s frustrating that for me no words can fully describe exactly what has been created here. Whether that’s the girls themselves, the animals or the wonderful staff who look after everything. Anyone who has ever donated to Kenyan Kids is built into the fabric of this wonderful home, whether that donation is towards the girls’ education, Fabian’s care or a meal for an aging grandmother (not me). The love that is given out is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I now understand my sister’s passion, her sacrifice and striving to help make better lives for these deserving children.
And to think, I almost didn’t make the journey! Now, for me, the aim is to visit again in 2024 (God willing). Everyone who walks through the gates of this home, or the school becomes tinged with a ferocious need to love and protect those within.
If you feel like you’d like to initiate a project, or support an ongoing one, then I urge you to help in any way that you can. Even a donation of £5 per month can make a huge difference to these children www.kenyankids.org/donate or contact Julie@kenyankids.org
