I witnessed a man's dream come true. I saw the look of satisfaction in his eyes. Not contentment but satisfaction to be sure. The man's name is Samuel, he's the head teacher at Runo and he's my friend. He's also a man with a vision.

Big tree

We had just celebrated the opening of the children's home at Runo and 200 kids, orphaned by tribal war or disease or both were lying on lines of new mattresses, giggling, snickering, clapping, singing, each one now the proud owner of not only a mattress but also a plastic cup and plate, a spoon, a blanket and a piece of soap. I've rarely seen such meager possessions bring such joy.

Child with baby

Samuel walked down the isle toward me and smacked a high five in my hand. We laughed for no reason or perhaps it was because a Goliath lay dead at our feet. I'd almost given up a year and a half ago, thrown in the towel, the giant was too tough, and I wanted to retreat to my cocoon of comfort. I'd almost done the same thing a month ago when I climbed Mount Mtelo, almost quit, and would have, except for three children who climbed on ahead, silently challenging me to finish the course, to reap the reward at the summit. I'm glad they were there. Samuel had challenged me, or perhaps more, had inspired me to finish the course when I wavered at the prospect of the struggle involved in building a children's home at Runo. Without money or materials he had vowed to build that house with such determination, faith and belief I was left with little choice but to be involved, to get in the fight. And so it was, fourteen months later, on February 29th 2008, we reached the summit.

Child with sick baby

Such occasions are both exhilarating and humbling though. In a sea of orphaned faces, painted simultaneously with expressions of gratitude and uncertainty, I realize but for the grace of God my face could have been amongst them. Catch a glimpse of the old grandmother with tears of relief in her eyes or the old man dancing and you'll know what I mean. Each one tells a story of it's own. Each one inspires to do more. And so it was that as one dream was realized yet another was born on the same day. This time in an even more remote village we visited that afternoon, called Chemali.

Chris Ocuma

Situated 20 kilometers or so east of Runo, at the base of the Cherangani mountain range, if Chemali had a town hall it would be in the form of a massive fig tree. The tree serves as a meeting place for elders, school, church, and a host of other activities. Mud huts scattered randomly on the hillsides would suggest that only a handful of people live in this community yet hundreds of children come to school each day beneath the bows of the great tree. There are no desks, books, or pencils so the kids sit on stones or the dusty ground as the teachers give lessons using only chalk and a small blackboard. Most of the kids are obviously sick with parasites, snotty noses and open sores, and just like Runo used to be before classrooms were constructed many of the young girls bring their even younger siblings with them to school. I'd like to think that the reason they do so is simply to care for their baby brothers and sisters while mom and dad are trying to earn a living but the brutal truth will no doubt reveal that many have no parents and so are forced to burden the responsibility of caring for children while they are still only children themselves. Another giant to be slain and the work has begun with the clearing of the site for a school building, which will also serve as a church and as a facility for day clinics.

Happy mother and daughter

There is another man in Africa who inspires me by his great faith, a man who has slaughtered many a Goliath of his own. His name is Chris Ocuma and he's a pastor in the massive slum in Nairobi called Kibera. I visited him a couple of weeks ago and was astonished to see what he and his wife have accomplished since I was last there in November, only four months ago. A shack with a tin roof housed men cutting and grinding up animal bones, to be fashioned into jewelry, when I was last there. Now a small hospital stands in that place. Workers scurry around doing finish work, the smell of new cement and fresh paint has chased away the stench of open sewers and animal bones. All this in spite of Kibera being one of the worst places for civil unrest during the recent crisis caused by Kenya's political turmoil. If you saw the pictures on the news of the riots in Kenya early this year they no doubt were taken in Kibera.

Orphaned child receives his belongings

The shear scale of the slum defies description. Conservative estimates indicate there are 1.6 million people living in Kibera's squalor, half of them being children, although I've heard much higher numbers. Yet Chris and his wife, over the past 30 years, have literally carved out of the rock a school, and dormitories where over 500 kids attend and are fed daily. They call it Soeto Academy. Now a small hospital emerges against all odds.

Samuel

However, a major problem still to overcome is a supply of clean water although the hydro geologists reports suggest an abundance of fresh water lies in aquifers 600' below ground. God willing I want to assist him in tapping into that water source this year.

Sea of faces

Runo and Chemali and Soeto are but a trio of digital pixels on a mural of Africa. But change enough pixels one at a time and you can change a picture. I once heard the analogy that a single snowflake is harmless but enough of them together can stop traffic. Samuel and Chris are two men who are satisfied with what they have accomplished so far, but they are not content yet, not as long as there is one child left behind. Their struggle will continue until their lives end, but they will never surrender, and so they will never be content. Not, that is, until that day comes when they hear those words we all long to hear, well done good and faithful servant, come receive your reward. I'm so honored and blessed to have the opportunity to work alongside men such as these but I'm so much more blessed to remain in His grasp.