Often times when you are involved in mission work to developing world countries, you meet so many with so little. You'll spend time with a family that has lost one, two, or many members due to a horrible illness, famine, or injustice. There are people who have been victimized by some part of their cruel world and left with so little. I've met some whose plight has been a lifelong struggle against intense poverty, abandonment, and with little hope.
But in all of these situations, there is one common theme; "little". They all have something little. Their financial situation is little, their material possessions are little, the hope is little, or their chances are little. They all have, though very small, ... something.
Yesterday, I met some with none. Where the afore mentioned groups had "little", these had absolutely, unequivocally nothing. The story that I am about to tell you, is difficult for me because I am going to try to convey the lives of a group of young boys that are hard to fathom and difficult to understand...
Within the Kawangware slum there is an area where we often will see young boys hanging around. It's a filthy area where pools of stagnant water and fields of mud cover the surroundings when it rains. It's void of vegetation and littered with trash. This area has been "claimed" by a group of Street Boys who spend the entire day dwelling in this open area of nothingness. They range anywhere from 20 years of age down to as young as 9. They don't go to school, have jobs, enjoy time indoors with family and friends because of one uniting commonality:
They are homeless.
Day after day, they wake and slumber in the open air of the Kawangware slum. Some sleep out in the actual dirt streets of Kawangware. Others find an abandoned car with which to climb under to slumber the night away. There are no extended family members to take them in. There are no friends or well-wishers who invite them over for a meal, some company, or a quick wash. They fight each day on their own. They, alone, are responsible for their safety, basic needs, and
tomorrows. Most of those three things never get found either. There is no one to bail them out, no one offering aid, no ministries providing meals to the homeless, no one giving out pairs of shoes, opportunities for schooling, jobs, or even a word of encouragement.
No one.
Most of them are addicted to sniffing glue. They wear larger coats to conceal used liquor bottles filled with glue which they sniff throughout the day. The sniffing of glue does 2 things to them: 1. It makes them forget about the struggles and pain of their lives and 2. It takes away the pangs of hunger so they don't have to deal with the fact that they haven't eaten in days. I saw some as young as 10 years old sniffing this glue and unable to stand straight. Other's eyes were glassy and unable to focus on you. They stumbled around and would fade in and out of consciousness.
Those that hadn't started sniffing, knew that it was only a matter of time before they succumbed to the pressure and strains to take up this terrible addiction. Soon it will ruin their kidneys and damage their brains. More than likely it will happen before they are 30. ...
... if they live that long.
We met 46 of them. Their clothes were covered in layers of stains, tattered with holes, and worn so thin they'd fall off within days. All them had air conditioned shoes. You know the kind: with holes around the toes, no shoe strings, and broken soles.
All of them had stories that defied understanding. All of them were desperate for help. I laid awake last night thinking of all I had and comfort I was living in, while at that very moment, they were thinking one thing: Survive. Even if it meant stealing in order to make it, they would. My heart is so burdened for least of these, like my new friends.
I think we were the first people (Kenyan or non-Kenyan) to stop and spend time with them. We had decided to spend the whole morning with this group of young men. Rich shared his past with them. He talked about the familiarity he had with being bound to an addiction. ... Some listened. Others were too far gone off the influences of fumes to even try and pay attention. Those that did listen began to realize that we were real. We were serious. We weren't looking to take advantage of them. We didn't want anything from them. Our desire was simple and sincere. We nailed that home with an example of our genuine concern: food. When we told them that we had food and drink for all of them,... they took notice. We walked with this mob of forgotten lives back to the Kawangware Center where we gave them chai and mandazis (doughnut-type food).
I'd like to tell you that they all prayed to receive Christ and immediately changed their lifestyles. I'd love nothing more than to tell you their behavior was perfect and that they voluntarily gave up their glue bottles and broken hearts. I would like to tell you they walked away with a new-found view on life. ... I would like to tell you all that, ... but it wouldn't be true. This is a long a difficult process that we began on Tuesday, March 24th, 2009. I have no idea how long, how much, in what way, and with whose help it will take to fully bring crowns to these princes, but we are willing to love them till it happens.
With each challenge in this process, the possible rewards are even greater. We saw glimpses of this on Tuesday, but it will take so much more than what we've done thus far. There is a mountain in front of us, but we know God has told us, "Climb!" We need your prayers. We need your encouragement. And we need you to realize something very very
important: When you have absolutely nothing,... then there's more room for God to fill. They aren't the "least". They are the Most!
They just don't know it yet.
My purchases today: ( I know it is backwards- that is the way Mac's do things). It's a sign for the front door that says "Karibu" (Welcome). 
