Seek first to understand…

Today we drove to Kitui, a sustainable village run by the Nyumbani children’s home. The drive took about 4 hours, although it probably only should have taken about 3, because there had been a lot of rain near us and so right outside Nairobi the road was literally just mud. And mud + heavy traffic of trucks and buses = deep muddy ruts = slow moving. There were quite matatus that had swerved into muddy ditches and were very stuck right where they were. I suppose that’s largely a product of the crazy drivers behind the wheels of those vehicles. Interestingly, this road is the only road from Mombasa, one of the main ports in Kenya. So really, in many ways, this road was the lifeline to the country. And yet, despite its importance, the infrastructure is so weak, even here, that trucks could barely move along it.

When we got to Kitui, oh what a difference from everything I’d seen before in this country (which to be honest, has been limited). Dry only begins to describe this place. Dirt roads. Desolate land for miles upon miles. The epitome of a desert. They haven’t had decent rains for two years. And yet here was a village. And there were others, outside of the Nyumbani village, who lived here, too.

This is supposed to be a sustainable village. So how do they do that with so little? Well, they built sand dams--7 in total--that held water from what meager rains they got, which raised the water table enough in their shallow wells to provide water for irrigation and drinking. They planted beans and vegetables to eat, with the ultimate goal of being able to produce all of the food they need themselves (a goal not yet achieved, but they’re only a few years into the project). They also planted many, many trees. They have 1000 acres, and they plan to fill several hundred with trees that they can use for firewood, building, and selling. There was a little sign, which I just loved, near one of the tree groves, that said, “The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now.” : )

So who lives in this hopefully-soon-to-be-sustainable village? Well, with a similar mission as Hekima Place and Nyumbani children’s home, this village is home to children who have been orphaned by AIDS, some of whom have AIDS but most of whom do not. Instead of hiring mums to live with the children, though, this project seeks to provide for another demographic equally affected by this AIDS epidemic--grandparents (here at the village, specifically, grandmothers).

These grandparents aren’t collecting social security when they reach 65. Their social security was lost when their children--the parents of their grandchildren--were lost. Children, here, ARE your social security. But if your children--now supposed to be self-responsible, healthy adults--are ill or even gone, who will take care of you in your old age? There is no one. The elderly and the young are two very separate generations being made equally vulnerable by a disease that is affecting the generations that exist between them. So this village brings grandmothers here to live in the homes with their own grandchildren as well as with other children who do not have their grandparents here. These grandmothers must agree to, essentially, “adopt” other children into their homes and their hearts when they come to live here.

When we were touring the village, the woman showing us around starting talking to us about the “destitute” lives these children were living before they came here. To my shock and dismay, however, she was doing this with two children--one about twelve years old who surely had learned enough English in school to understand her--right by her feet. In my mind, I thought ‘How could she be so insensitive as to call them “destitute”, essentially, to their faces?!?’ I was appalled and hurt on behalf of the children. When I shared this with Lindsey, I was even more repulsed by her response that I didn’t know that it was hurtful to the children. Here I was, standing up for these kids, and Lindsey had the nerve to tell me I was the one in the wrong! I was annoyed and frustrated and upset.

But I digested it. And later, having a conversation with another one of the volunteers, I processed what she had said. I still intuitively thought that the woman should not have said that in front of the children, but I understood that, in reality, I did not KNOW that it was hurtful or that she shouldn’t say it. I didn’t KNOW that “destitute” had the same meaning and connotation in their culture as it does in mine. I didn’t KNOW that it was shameful or hurtful to talk about being poor or hopeless or “destitute” in their culture. It might be. But it might not. When I have a strong reaction like this, I shouldn’t ignore it, but I should think about it critically and use it as motivation to learn more about the culture I’m observing so that I CAN understand what is and is not culturally acceptable and right and kind. Before I, or anyone else, can pass judgment of ANY kind--even if it seems that there is an injustice occurring and that it must be stopped--we must seek to learn and understand the culture in which this act or event is occurring. Seek first to understand.