Next Door to the Orphans: A place at the table

NDONYO, Kenya -- Guy McDonald had a plan.

On the theory that it is easier to obtain forgiveness than consent, he told no one about his plan -- not even me, his roommate on the LEAMIS International Ministries mission trip to Kenya.

LEAMIS normally likes to place its volunteers in homes, two volunteers to a home, rather than keeping all of the volunteers together in a hotel or bunkhouse. This system is meant to encourage relationships between the volunteers and their hosts.

But Guy and I were in an unusual situation. There were only two homes on the New Life Church compound in Ndonyo, so we were staying in a room next door to the orphans who lived at the church. Pastor Joseph Keango and his wife Helen functioned as our hosts -- Helen served us our meals -- but we weren't staying at their home.

That wasn't what bothered Guy, however. We both appreciated the Keangos' hospitality and were happy to have them as our hosts.

On Thursday of our work week in Ndonyo, LEAMIS co-founder Gail Drake approached Guy and asked if he would give his testimony as a part of that night's worship service. She thought it would tie in with the sermon she planned to deliver. Guy was reluctant; he had shared his story with his fellow team members during our in-country training, but it was a very traumatic, very personal story and he was not sure how it would play for a Kenyan audience.

Still, it's hard to say "no" to Gail Drake. Guy agreed to give his testimony -- and then fate stepped in. Guy was resting in the room we shared when someone (not me!), not realizing the room was occupied, bolted it from the outside to keep the door from swinging open. When it was time for service, Guy could not get out.

As service time neared, I saw Gail looking around anxiously and realized that she was looking for Guy. Had he gotten cold feet? Gail finally decided to go ahead and tell her own story. By the time someone had released Guy from the room, Gail had finished her testimony and was midway through her sermon.

Afterward, Guy explained to Gail what had happened. He also made a request. He had missed the appropriate chance for his testimony, but he had something else he wanted to share with the church about the value and status of children. Perhaps he could do this during one of the remaining worship services.

Gail knew that I would be preaching Friday night and that my topic would be spiritual gifts. She asked me to consult with Guy and see if his remarks would be compatible with my sermon. Guy and I talked and he said that he planned to refer to children as a gift from God. We agreed that he would make his remarks right before my message.

But I didn't know Guy's real agenda.

Because of the way in which we took our meals with our individual host families, none of the LEAMIS volunteers had gotten to share a meal with the other full-time residents of the New Life Church compound: seven orphaned boys, whose bunkhouse was right next to the room where Guy and I slept. The boys adored Guy, and even without much chance to converse (they were more fluent in Swahili than English) he obviously cared for them as well.

When Friday night came, Guy indeed talked about the value and worth of children, and how they should be treated as human beings. Then, he made a public challenge to the New Life church members -- he said it would delight the LEAMIS team to be able to share at least one meal with the orphans. I doubt that Gail and her LEAMIS co-founder, the Rev. Debra Snellen, would ever have made such a dare themselves, nor would they have given Guy the green light if he'd discussed it with them ahead of time. They might perhaps have privately requested such a meal, but if they'd been turned down they would probably have let the matter drop in the name of partnership and cooperation.

Guy, however, had forced everyone's hand. He felt strongly about the symbolism of such a meal, and he also wanted to see for himself how the orphans were being treated by the church members.

And Guy's plan was successful. Saturday night, all of the LEAMIS team members, several of the church members and all seven of the orphans crammed into the little room where Guy and I normally dined. We shared a hearty meal. The orphans ate, and ate, and ate, and ate. We stared in disbelief at how much those tiny little guys could put away. They seemed to enjoy themselves, although they didn't seem to understand what all the fuss was about.

Following dinner, we shared some special gifts -- a few especially for the orphans, plus some school supplies for the church to use for all of its school-age members.

By the time Guy and I bunked down, we were all awash in warm fuzzies. Others had not yet gone to bed, and we could still hear them milling around outside.

Then, as I lay in bed awake, I could hear Jim Upton's voice.

"Gail. We need you right away." His tone was urgent and deadly serious.

"That didn't sound good," I said to Guy.

It wasn't. Two of the older children -- not the orphans, but one of Pastor Joseph's sons and another boy from the community -- had been roughhousing and had butted foreheads. Both had bad cuts; I was later told that one of the boys had exposed muscle.

This time, our door was bolted from the inside. Because much of the team's luggage was stored in our room, I had to get up and pull some pants on so that I could let Gail in to retrieve the first aid kit.

Gail, Audrey Lindsey and others worked on the two boys, applying wound care strips from the first aid kit, but from our American standpoint what they really needed was stitches, from a doctor, as soon as possible. Guy suggested Krazy Glue, which has been used by U.S. soldiers in combat situations as a make-do solution for closing a wound. But none of us had any.

Neither boy's family showed any interest in trying to make the 1 1/2-hour trip to Kisii Town so late at night. For that matter, I'm not sure if they actually took either boy to a doctor the next day. I'm not sure whether it was a cost issue or just different standards about what constitutes necessary care.

I still think about this incident. One thing a trip to a developing country teaches you is how much we have -- and take for granted -- here in the United States. Is there poverty in the U.S.? Of course there is, and I take it seriously. But, TennCare disputes aside, the poorest family in Bedford County can take a child to the emergency room and get stitches. The poorest family in Bedford County can afford to send children to school. The poorest family in Bedford County has a number of resources, safety nets and second chances available to them which would be considered unbelievable luxuries by three-quarters of the planet. Sometimes people refuse to take advantage of those resources, or have abused them to the point that they're no longer available, but that's a separate issue.

When people criticize foreign relief on the grounds that we should deal with poverty here first, they have no earthly idea what they're talking about.

When we talk about aid to developing countries, we raise a lot of complex issues. What is the best kind of aid to give? Who should be in charge? How do we avoid problems like local corruption which can keep aid from going where it is intended? These are important questions, and if we do not try to answer them even well-meaning attempts to help can turn sour.

LEAMIS tries to emphasize a partnership approach, and an educational approach. I hope that the soapmaking workshop I taught this month will enable a few Ndonyo residents to make a little extra money by producing a product and selling it in the town's marketplace.

Change comes in incremental steps like that. Change comes slowly. But then again, sometimes it's necessary for someone like Guy McDonald to rattle the cages. Sometimes it's necessary for someone to stand up and demand that the world's less fortunate, like the orphans next door in Ndonyo, get their place at the table.