Part Three - Africa (non fiction)

     There were 16 junior secondary students who walked in to school every day at Rafiki. Some walked two hours through very dangerous streets. Their uniforms were left at Rafiki. They had been recommended by a pastor, because they had very high potential, yet too poor to even buy a uniform to go to public school. One of those students told us her brother was a shoe salesman, and he provides food for the entire family. I asked, "Does he have a store?"

      "No," she said. "He carries them, tied over his shoulder, while he sells on the street."

 I had never seen such movitated students before, except for one student I once had at Arkadelphia, Ket. She was from Bankok, and was learning a new language at the same time. We still stay in touch.

     Nairobi is located on the equator, at 5000 feet elevation. Cool nights, warm days. Every day. Almost no mosquitoes. We only took Malaria medicine because we would be going into lower areas, such as on Safari and to Tanzenia. The Rainy season was due to begin just before we would leave.

     Many of the secondary students stayed, on their own, after school, to help the kids. You could pass their classroom, almost any time, and think it was empty, it was so quiet. Open the door, and 16 students were working hard. They looked upon this as their only chance in this world to better themselves. If one talked to them about their ambitions, they would all seem to be, what probably was, impossibly high. Brain surgeon, scientist, astronaut, on and on.

     Carolyn Koepke, from the US, was the Children's Director, and being a nurse by profession, she had been elevated to Everyone's Doctor, once here. If we broke a leg, or had a major illness, we would be flown to the US. Carolyn and Doug had been here for many years. He had been a Mechanic in the US. They just walked away from it one day, and never looked back.

      Doug ran the physical plant, all the repairs, woodworking, and metal working. And he taught those things to the  boys. Their children grew up here, with a 2 week trip back to the US each year. They raised their own financing, through mailouts and visits to churches when back in the States.

     Barbara worked under Carolyn, in a number of capacities. They knew she was a photographer, but never knew how good she was until she got there. The missionaries all were thrilled, as someone said, "She's a professional, and her work looks like it!" She was quickly given the job of photographing every child, for their permanent records, and furnishing the seven permanent missionaries with photos for their fund raising speeches and mailouts.

     Doug kept the cars going, the water supply good, the electricity flowing. I worked with him, mostly. There was no hardware store to go to with a need. If it was not brought from America on Doug's yearly trip home, we made it. I spent the whole day once, cutting rubber gaskets for the water supply system from and inner tube. I also taught basketball to all the kids, and an occasional science class.

      Barbara and I both read to children after lunch each day that had been so badly damaged in their early life that they seldom, or never, talked, or smiled. When a breakthrough with one of these kids came, and Barbara had several, it was an indescribable experience, one to be treasured a lifetime.

     Barbara read daily to Moses. He could talk but rarely would although he was now six. Moses was still in some trauma over the conditions he lived in before coming to Rafiki. Soon, he would be eagerly awaiting Barbara at the reading bench, smiling with book in hand, and would nestle up close as she read.  In spite of her best efforts to get him to talk, he just wouldn't, week after week.

     One day, as Barbara walked him back to his house, he stopped, looked into her eyes, and said, "At night I pray for you." Barbara has just never gotten over that event, and cannot tell about it to this day without tears. And she often does.

     Yeen Lan Lam is the village director, nearing middle age, and very much in charge. She ran the place with a firm hand, but could be gentle when the occasion called for it. She was extremely protective of Barbara and me. She knew the many dangers of Africa, we did not. She worked very hard to make our stay perfect, complete with a trip each weekend, either free to us or at a greatly reduced price. She always provided us with a car and driver. Our four day Safari was about one third the usual cost. She had a lot of influence around Nairobi, and could always just get things done.

     Once her driver ran over a goat and killed it in Nairobi. An angry crowd gathered. The driver was crying, "They're going to kill me." Vigalante justice ruled the African streets, and this was a widow's goat.

     Yeen Lan got out of the car, and said to the crowd, "Bring the owner of the goat to me." The widow soon appeared. "What is the value of the goat?" The owner told her, and she immediately paid it. Seeing a Rafiki worker in the crowd, she asked, "John, do you want this goat?" John jumped right on that. Meat was rare. The widow shouted, "No! That's my goat." Yeen Lan explained,  "You told me the value, and I bought it from you. It then became my goat, to do with as I please." CONTINUED