Usha with sponsored child
Throughout all theses years I have carried in my heart a treasure of beautiful images of Nairobi, my home town. There were wonderful memories of strolling on the streets with school friends, playing with brother and sister and cousins, going to the temple with mother and numerous outings that always seemed to be outdoors in the golden sunshine. I recall the hustle and bustle of all people of all nationalities, the inviting side walk cafes that displays scrumptious pastries that my friends and I could only afford to look at, the purple flowering, graceful Jacaranda trees that lined the wide streets of Nairobi and most of all, the wonderful cool and dry breezes that contradicted the expectation of being in the tropics. I loved to go out in the country and had traveled by road and train from Nairobi to numerous towns in and outside of Kenya, with exotic names like Nakuru, Machakos, Eldoret, Marchisson Falls, Kitale, Mombasa, Kisumu , Mwanza, Kampala, and Entebbe. Many of these involved memorable visits to relatives who were local business men and women as well as farmers and other professionals.
Growing up, I knew that Kenya was an African country, but a British Colony and that the Indians were engaged in the local commerce. I knew that after a prolonged struggle, independence finally had been achieved and transition to self government was in progress. I knew that many years before, my national origin country, India had gone though a similar journey of gaining independence form the British. I thought that made us all united in a common bond and was uncertain why then in the Indian community, at least, there was an under current of uncertainty about the future.
But I had other things on mind. I was finishing high school A levels and was contemplating an uncertain future myself. I was raised by a widowed mother who was barely making enough to survive and raise her three children. In spite of having good grades college education was going to be possible only if there was financial help. The American Embassy officials had been extremely helpful in deciphering my SAT scores which they said were extraordinary and were helping me navigate through college application processes. Then came the good news that I received two scholarships, one form an American university and the other from a foundation in Kenya that would help me to go to the school of my choice. I left Kenya, fully aware of the awesome opportunity ahead of me and unsure of whether there would be reason to return. There was none, at least until several decades later, in the summer of 2005. And it was a reason that I could not have imagined but surely it was God sent.
I flew into Nairobi in the evening and saw the twinkling lights of the streets of Nairobi with the backdrop of the silhouettes of the Ngong hills and felt an emotional surge of tears. I recalled the day I had left Nairobi several decades ago, alone and clutching scholarship letters from strangers whose kindness enabled me to pursue my education in a strange land that has now become my home. And now I was coming back, alone, clutching letters from strangers whose kindness enabled orphan children to live better in a country that used to be my home. I could not fathom the range of contradictory emotions that overwhelmed me and then before I knew it I had been processed through immigration and customs and was met by no other than Bobbie Macguffie! There she was, fully aware of what this trip will mean to me and welcoming me and providing a much appreciate sense of familiarity.
The next day is a blur. We went into Nairobi and made arrangements to go to the Nyanza province where the AIDS incidence is the highest in Kenya and possibly in the world. We met some of the officials of the health department and then we met numerous people seeking help of SHARE and of Bobbie personally as a physician. I had thought that I would take a day and go see my old neighborhood in Nairobi but was advised that traveling alone on the streets of Nairobi was dangerous. Besides, there was no time. I saw the streets of Nairobi from the fifth floor window of my hotel room. They looked dirty, there were no flowers and there were no cafes, and certainly no people strolling leisurely. Instead there was one continuous non stop and horrific traffic congestion of both humans and vehicles and there was nothing inviting about it. I knew I did not want to see more and left for Nyanza the next morning.
I met the wonderful SHARE staff: First Johnson and Lucy who operate the medical clinics and then Cyprina who provides social services and oversight to the children. Never have I met people who have so many of their own tragic stories to tell but who have devoted their lives to take care of the others, ones who are the most unfortunate and needy victims of all, the children. These three people are the unsung heroes of our SHARE program, without whom the hard earned monies of our sponsors would not reach the children. For next 9 days I accompanied them to many of the schools which our orphans attend. All in all, I saw about 80 children. At every school I met each child and talked to him or her. I was proud that without a single exception every child was fluent in English and this in a country where the literacy rate is abysmal! I was proud that I am associated with SAHRE and therefore with you the contributors who are making a difference between life and death for each of these children. I was proud that all most all the children displayed a health curiosity about their sponsors and finally I was gratified that the children fully appreciated the awesome opportunity that is ahead of them.
And then at each school, Cyprina asked each child to write a letter to the sponsor. I am sure over last three months many of you have been receiving these letters. Do read them and know that there is a child out there for whom you are the only source of light because all they are surrounded with is the darkness and the devastation caused by a disease called AIDS.
While each day I saw a child that SHARE was helping each day I saw many more that were equally needy but we do not have sponsors for them. I saw a child being raised by his grandparents in their nineties with no source of income. He was clearly the apple of their eye and the only survivor of the 8 sons and daughter all of whom fell victims to AIDS . They were only able to give him water for lunch. And then there was a young 6 year old boy raising his even younger baby siblings . And then the French priest who was just leaving for France was pleading with Cyprina to take on two additional very bright children on SHARE program. I saw them engage in a dialogue and inquired what the issue was. Turns out that these two children have lost their mother to AIDS and the father has run off abandoning them with no relatives to take care of them. The French priest who has been providing them with care was going back to France and was intent on making sure that they will be educated…but SHARE only takes orphans and these were not. Moved by the impassioned pleas of the priest, I turned to Cyprina, and asked her to make an exception and then I learned of the enormous despair of it all. “If I take these children, you will have to deal with tens of thousands who have the same stories just in this province alone” she said.
Overwhelmed with the neediness of each child more desperate than the other, I retreated to my room at each night. The enormity of the crisis had swept me into a profound sense of hopelessness. I began to question my faith, the absence of local government help and the total lack of evidence of help that presumably is being provided by other governments. Most of all I questioned why is it always the poorest amongst us who are struck by the most horrific tragedies, some man made and some not.
And then I had to remind myself that my own story is a tribute to what we can do for each other on a very personal level. It was the kindness of strangers who provided me with my education. It is because somewhere there is an unsung hero who enabled me to be where I am both in my career in a corporation, my family and here with SHARE. I know it makes a difference to the ones we do help. I am certainly a living proof of that. And now I know that each and everyone of you who contributes to SHARE is a celebrated hero and source of hope for a child somewhere in the Nyanza province on the shores of Lake Victoria.
And now I know why the reason to return to Kenya is God sent.