Lessons Learned

Africa presents a series of challenges and subsequential lessons to me.  Some simple, others formidable and painful; and many that have jolted me to the core.  All are necessary, because without the very experiences that have brought on these lessons, there would be no growth. I believe this to be true in any culture and society, but can only speak for what I have learned over the years, after spending so much time in Africa. We beat to a different drum here.  The cultural norms are so far removed from what I knew, from my own upbringing and life experiences.  I did not grow up in a culture of suspicion, lies, bad intent and corruption - a culture where human life is entirely expendable. Where human life can be snuffed out over 5,000KES. (Less than $50USD). This is a reality here in Kenya.  Beat or get beaten.  You are with us or you are against us. Divide and conquer.  Fear of retaliation for what I would have perceived to be some innocent call to the authorities for injustices against children. Fighting these injustices and how I fight them has been one of the greatest lessons I have learned, and one I accept.

I have learned to slow down.  On paper, the best laid out plans are those which we tend to embrace, in the name of success, and doing our personal best.  We tweak them until they make the most sense and deliver the greatest reward for those we work for and work with, until there is collective agreement - two heads are better than one.  While all plans are subject to failure, here in Kenya? They can go up in smoke in seconds, over some obscure infraction that was designed to derail YOU. Yes, YOU personally.  It doesn't matter that you are doing good work, if someone has decided they don't want your help, all for the wrong reasons.  I have learned this the hard way, and consider it to be one of the greatest lessons yet.  So, the answer has been: slow down. Win them over.  Diffuse the situation with their brand of logic, however insane or backwards thinking it may appear to be at the time. Disarm. Assimilate. It is the only way to make progress here. Otherwise, it becomes too easy to say "I've tried" and walk away. I know, because I have seen it happen, often.

For better or worse, walking away is not part of my DNA.  Even in my lowest moments, I have not wanted to walk away.  The commitment to stay is born from a deep love of Kenya, in particular her children, and the very community that is now putting a collective screen around me and WWC.  Inherent suspicion of the mzungu, while not completely eradicated, has softened. Trust has developed, ever so slowly, on both sides. My passion and vision for the future has clearly been embraced, I dare say, because the community has been brought into the fold. These things have not developed over night, of course. They are the gifts of hard work.

The most gut wrenching experience in my six years has been separating from the Nagolie children.  Seeing these children I have nurtured and (will always) love, walk away from me because of a fear of retaliation from a tyrant in charge of their lives, is something that I will never shake.  When Cary and I met some of the children at the end of our road that infamous day a week ago, it was a fleeting moment filled with love, rejoicing in being together again, and fear.  All at the same time. Mturi ran to me and jumped into my arms, giving me his trademark hug.  When I finally put him down he was gone.  So was his brother Kanini.  Janet, who hugged us closely and for dear life, disappeared.  Linet had a look of profound sadness to her - we saw her before she saw us.  Seeing Cary, her face lit up into a smile as big as I have ever seen.  We hugged like it was our last one.  And then she, too, was gone.  We had to separate from one another, because we were there to pick up the four oldest children from WWC.  It wasn't fair to either side, quite frankly. I want them all - all the children, but this is not in the cards now or maybe ever.  Ritah, 10, asked me the morning of the WWC party: "Auntie Simmie, will the Nagolie children be coming today?" "No" I answered. "You are my children and I belong here, with you." Ritah's enormous smile said everything to me: relief, filled with love and belonging.  I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

The sadness of the situation is diffused and balanced by the children, the ongoing need and the beauty of WWC.  One gets the sense that these children know they are the luckiest children around. Just as the Nagolie children did.  They know, because they had the rug ripped out from under them, probably the greatest injustice I have ever known. We all know that life isn't fair, but when it comes to children, they are innocents.  It is our job to protect all children, not just in Kenya, but in every society that exists.  I will continue to do my tiny part because it is what I love. It is truly the most fulfilling work I could possibly be doing.  Today and always, it is critical to protect WWC and each child who is entrusted into our care.  If the current law stands, we have only three years to shape these children's lives for the better. From my humble observation, we are already well on our way! To see the amazing progress in only 4 rapid months is nothing short of a miracle.  These children are relaxed, happy and fulfilled.  When Thomas was asked how things at the home are going by an Ereteti teacher, his response was "Fantastic!"  When Sheila's brother came to the home for a visit, he jokingly asked her if she wanted to come home. Her answer? "Hapana. Nyumbani."  (No, this is home). Sheila is just shy of 4 (we think). These are fighting words if I've ever heard them.  


               These are the children of Watoto World Center:



Tiff (3 1/2)

Sheila (just shy of 4)

Josie (4)

Njeri (4)

Denis (5)

Catherine (6)

Tabitha (6)

                                                                     
                                            Esther (8) 

Kevin (8)

Peter (9)

Eric (10)

Mary Njoki (10)

Jacinta Njoki (10)

Ritah (10)

Thomas (12)

Eunice (12)

Joshua (13)

No doubt about it, every trip to Kenya has it's ups and downs and moments where I must take pause, stand back and reflect, not react.  When Mautia, the current Chairman of the Nagolie Board called on Sunday to ask what time we were coming to the home, I responded  "We're not.  I am done. 

 I was reported again, this time to the highest authority at the Children's District Office in Kajiado, for a lie.  WWC was paid a visit as a result.  Please do not contact me again.  Good luck to you."  I knew what he was doing, he wanted to rope me in and I was having none of it.  Difficult, yes.  But the truth of the matter is, I felt liberated. I am doing what is best for the children, for WWC and for me.

The future is bright.  We are well on our way to making excellent progress within the community now, something I am enormously proud of and excited about.  

From somewhere over the African continent, I stare out the window of this plane and see a gorgeous full moon and brilliant night sky, filled with light.  This light represents hope, a future for those in need, and love.  Lots of love.  

I will miss the children and those who make WWC such a success and a home filled with happiness.  That Tony, Pauline, Faith, Eunice and Bernard are so invested in this work is simply wonderful.  I am the luckiest person in the world.

Thank you all for being with me.

Pamoja na upendo mwingi ~ With much love,

Simmie and the children