A Letter from Huruma House

“Thank you for the fridge you helped us with. It's now working. It preserves fish well without getting rot. Now Pamela buys fish enough to sell for two days this make her not to go to lake everyday she go there three times a week. This gives her time to rest also help to spend less on transport.”

This note, taken from a letter we received this month, is affirming that the money invested in Charles and Pamela Otieno was money well spent. Because both of these lovely people are deaf, they have had difficulty finding employment opportunities. Charles has shared his carpentry skills with many young deaf students through the years, but recently he has been helping his wife with the fish business. Their “business” is one in which they sit at a table on the side of a dirt road with other business women and men, selling and trading. It is with pride (and relief) that Charles details how much money his wife saves each week by keeping fish refrigerated rather than toting a one-day supply of fish from Lake Victoria six times a week. They have made the trek hundreds of times since a missionary gave them a blue, Igloo cooler fifteen years ago. The two-hour ride in a public service vehicle on deteriorating roads is exhausting to the mother of nine.

Charles and Pamela refuse to call any of the children they have adopted “orphans.” “They are our children!” Charles insists as he speaks of the four young ones they added to their family after the children’s parents died of the virus causing AIDS. Assumption of this responsibility is a huge burden, and many families are accepting the challenges associated with caring for relatives and neighbors.

We are delighted to participate with this family and many other distant neighbors by sharing some of the financial burden with funds that are given to Huruma House (huruma is the Swahili word for “mercy”), a public charity devoted to serving orphans, widows, and those who are desperately poor in East Africa. AIDS has created a crisis beyond the imagination of those who have never researched the wide ranging effects of the virus. Not only does it rob individuals of strength and health, it becomes a burden to the extended families and neighbors in countless ways. One dear friend from Kenya once described the situation this way: “Imagine standing in the center of Rongo with a blindfold on your eyes. If you turn around three times, then toss a small stone into the air over your head, you must be careful! The stone will probably land on an orphan!”

Each month, resolutions are passed by the Board of Huruma House to disburse funds to our brothers, sisters, and children in East Africa. We are determined to dedicate 100% of contributed public funds to assisting beneficiaries in direct ways. Investments include: purchasing dairy cows for milk, poultry projects for eggs and meat, sustainable agriculture, seed money for businesses, assistance with education, and community feeding programs. We remain devoted to our original goals of:

• helping widows, orphans, and the very needy in East Africa
• helping in ways that emphasize a vision toward sustainability
• supporting existing indigenous efforts to feed, clothe, shelter, and educate neighbors
• developing strategies and encouraging opportunities for the East African people to grow in their faith and discipleship

Though we are proud of this partnership with local church leaders through which hundreds are served, there are thousands who still seek assistance.

If you are interested in learning more about Huruma House, you are welcome to visit our website at http://www.hurumahouse.org or write to president@hurumahouse.org. We would love to share some exciting opportunities with you in hopes that we can be

Serving others with you,
Stephen Greek
President, Huruma House
(For the Huruma House Board of Directors)

A Walk Around the Block

Chris showed up at Paul’s house on his motorcycle, “The Ambulance” as it is known by local neighbors, and suggested that we visit a number of Blessed Family beneficiaries on the way back to his place.  Though we had four people on the little motorcycle the previous day, we decided to walk through the “neighborhood.”   

The first stop was the home of Lizbet Agutu, an 80 year old widow who greeted us with kisses, an ancient song of blessing, and a celebration in a traditional dance of praise.  She honored Belinda, her “daughter from America,” with a gift. Like last year, it was the finest of her feathered flock, a red hen.

Our celebration with Lizbet ended when we continued to the next house on Chris’s route.   It was the home of Berta.  The young mother’s eyes met ours as we approached.  She sat motionless, making no move to cover her burned body.  She suffers from epilepsy which caused an unexpected seizure while she was cooking for her two children the previous week.  She had fallen into the fire, burning her neck and chest severely.  Her mother smiled as she came out of the small mud house behind Berta and greeted us.

We all entered the house and heard the story.  Berta’s mother, a widow, had been working in a nearby garden when the accident occurred.  Berta’s young son had run for help, calling Chris to come and help his mother out of the fire.  Chris took her for treatment as soon as she was able to travel on the motorcycle, but she really needed to go to the hospital rather than the local clinic due to the severity of the burns. Now, as we chatted with Berta, her mother requested that we do what we could to assist her daughter who was often “thrown into the fire” by seizures.  As we examined scars from previous burns, we were told that she had been “seized” by local men in the area and taken behind the bushes to be injured in other ways.  

We learned that Berta had been sent to a distant school to receive special education services for a number of years, but was now staying at home with her mother who helped her care for her two sons.  She and her family receive $11 worth of food from sponsors in the United States each month.  They expressed gratitude for this saying they would not survive without it. Though it is gratifying to be able to purchase salve for Berta’s burns, and give food to the children, at times these seem like little more than a bandaid for the overwhelming problems they face daily.

As we continued our rounds, visiting people in the area, we arrived at the home of Angeline.  She returned to this area when there was no one to assist her 85 year old mother.  Angeline led the old woman out of her room to meet us.  It was immediately obvious from the cloudy color of her eyes that she can no longer see. Angeline thanked Huruma House for recent assistance in re-hanging the front door on her mud house.  It had fallen off the hinges and had to be propped against the door frame each night.  She also thanked Chris for repairing the latrine.  The previous month, when everyone had gone to attend a funeral, Angeline’s mother had been led to the outhouse by a small boy.  He did not realize she needed further assistance inside the latrine where several of the floor boards were missing.  Neighbors ran to assist the old woman whose arms held her from going through the hole.  She was saved! 

Our interaction with these loving people underscores a continuing need for assistance for some of God’s children in Western Kenya. Some of our goals are oriented around the initiation of sustainable projects in agriculture and employment opportunities for younger widows, but the relief work for older individuals is a beautiful manifestation of the love of God through expressions of love for neighbors.  

Our trip “around the block” is a snapshot from our short visit, but it certainly appears to be an excellent representation of everyday life in the Bwaliro neighborhood.  

The Wheelchair: A Metaphor

by Steve Greek

Kimani gave me a bear hug.  A slight, middle aged man of about 115 pounds, he surprised me with this display of affection, or appreciation, or simple joy at seeing an old friend.  His wife stood beside him holding one daughter in her arms while her other daughter gripped her skirt and stared up at my Mzungu (caucasion) face.  Kimani took the child from his wife’s arms so she could greet me.  Hers was also a warm greeting.  I was surprised when she touched the left side of her face to my right cheek and repeated the action on the other side of my face.  This is a relatively new greeting that is used in Christian communities and among very close friends.  Both of them stepped back and reached for my hand to initiate a more traditional greeting of a very warm and aggressive handshake.

After swinging our hands back and forth for about thirty seconds with prolonged eye contact, Kimani motioned to his two daughters.  After releasing our hand clasp, we were able to communicate through Kenyan Sign Language.  Both parents are deaf.  One of the daughters speaks Swahili, Kikuyu, and is now learning English in preschool.  Her twin sister was deprived of oxygen at birth, and some profound mental and physical impairments have become apparent since her traumatic entry into the world of her hearing impaired parents.  When I grabbed Kimani’s daughter’s palsied hand with a Swahili greeting of “Habari!” she smiled a bright, beautiful smile that spoke her answer, “Nzuri! (Good!)  The whole family was attending the annual KDPL (Kenya Deaf Prayer and Learning) meeting being hosted by Sam’s Place near Rongo, Kenya.

They were excited to see Claudia and me for a number of reasons.  We are old friends! We have known Charles Kimani for over twenty years having worshiped together at a deaf church in Eldoret, Kenya years ago.  But also, they associate us with the purchase of a wheelchair for their daughter.  Ironically, Claudia and I did not pay for the wheelchair, but we received all of the thanks!  Last year, when we received the request for this assistance, we mentioned it to a few people, and within days, funds were available to buy the marvelous machine.

It seems this story is a metaphor for most of the work that missionaries do.  We have the privilege of standing beside dear people from faraway lands, sharing good news and delivering loving gestures of kindness.  We also learn and benefit in amazing ways through extended time in these host cultures. We are able to enjoy a depth of relationship with God’s children in other lands which comes from shared experiences that are made possible by a sending church, loving friends, and dear family.  Yet those who make these interactions possible may never be able to exchange handshakes, or share meals, or sing and worship under the same roof (or tree) with all the beneficiaries of their expressions of love.

So on behalf of Kimani and his wife, their children and their friends, and our new brothers and sisters in Kenya, we give thanks to all those who have supported the work among the deaf and hearing people of this beautiful country.  Thank you for the wheelchair! Thank you for supporting the National Meeting of the Deaf and sharing the financial burden of a Gospel Meeting in Marera. Thank you for your participation in a women’s meeting in Bwaliro.  Thank you for 200 Bibles that present holy scriptures to people in their native language (Dholuo). Thank you for feeding hundreds of people, caring for widows and orphans, facilitating employment possibilities, and sharing Good News of eternal life through Jesus the Savior.  You are vessels of mercy, the instruments through which Christ-like love is flowing to the people of Kenya and all of God’s creation so that Jesus will be “a blessing to all nations.”  Asante Sana!  (Thank you very much!)

Steve and Claudia Greek

Kimani and Samuel: Men with Stories to Share

by Steve and Claudia Greek

Charles Kimani’s “sign name” is really more of a motion than a hand position and placement.  To “say” Kimani’s name properly, one should put both hands in a fist-like positions and move both arms as if you were doing the breast stroke under 3 feet of water.  You also need to move your head in a dipping motion, at a slight angle that implies that you are sliding through those three feet of water to reach the surface.  Kimani explained to us that, when he was a child, he was quite a swimmer!  I have never asked why an accomplished swimmer would hold his hands in a fist-like position, but neither do I ask why Fred is called Fred, or Billy is called Billy.  It is his name!

In the first part of this report, I explained that one of his daughters has some physical impairments which necessitate her need for a wheelchair.  Kimani and his wife exhibit such devotion to their children that Claudia was reminded of Charles Kimani’s devotion to others as well.  She told a “Charles Kimani” story to our team of missionaries the other night.  It is a painful, yet beautiful story of friendship that impacted several families in powerful ways and has long lasting influence on their lives.

It was a rainy evening twenty years ago when Kimani rapped on our door.  There was an expression of urgency on his face when he indicated that our friend, Samuel, had fallen down on the side of the road in an apparent seizure.  He had been shaking violently and gone straight into an unconscious state of exhaustion.  We got into my vehicle, found him in a gully full of rushing water, and took him to a local physician who immediately admitted him in the local hospital.  He was receiving appropriate care, so I carried on with plans to go to Uganda the following day.  Before our return, three days later, I received word that Samuel had passed away with an apparent brain tumor.  

When I arrived in Eldoret, one of the first jobs we faced, was negotiating with people at the morgue adjacent to the hospital.  They had refused to release Samuel’s body until a very large sum of money (for which no receipt would be given) was paid.  I scolded and pleaded with the morgue attendants who were requesting the bribe until they released the body.  That Sunday, at a memorial service, Samuel’s family and many of the deaf people in the local community attended the service.  Those who were Christians shared stories of Samuel’s faithfulness; he always had a small New Testament in his shirt pocket, he spoke of Jesus to everyone he met, he was a humble man who interacted lovingly with others.  Those who were not Christians shared stories of Samuel’s goodness, his kindness, and the respect that he deserved.

When his family addressed the group, they indicated that, because he was deaf, and they did not know any sign language, they did not know their son.   They loved him, of course, but they were shocked and moved to know that he was a Christian and, in fact, a leader in the church among the deaf. They spoke with a few of the hearing people attending the service and made plans to learn more about their son’s Christian beliefs.   A few months later, we received word that Samuel’s family had become Christians and attended a church close to their home.

As Claudia shared the story of Kimani knocking at our door, and Samuel’s influence on his family, she emphasized that as we look out at the crowd of 106 people at the KDPL (Kenya Deaf Prayer and Learning) meeting, we are looking at many people who have a long history with the Church of Christ mission effort.  There are countless stories, most of which will never be told, but all of which should be chronicled.  There are stories that make us laugh and others we hear with regret, but all are important and all are precious.

Thank you for your part in making these stories what they are,

Steve and Claudia Greek

Cross-cultural Gifts

By Stephen Greek

“My daughter has come from overseas to see me!” Elizabet Agutu declared when she saw Belinda.  She shook hands with her and embraced her, touching her cheeks to both sides of Belinda’s face.  She greeted each of the other female guests in a similar fashion, but as she saw the grey-haired white man she got on her knees and approached him with humility.  Unaccustomed to this show of respect, everyone was relieved when she held his hand and got back to her feet.  She invited the four visitors into the mud house where the old Luhya woman had lived alone since the death of her husband and her only daughter.  

The firewood in the corner and the small charcoal stove on the dirt floor explained the pungent, but pleasant, smell of wood smoke in the house. A large “quilted” sheet, draped over sisal twine, spanned the room separating a private sleeping area from the living area. The sheet was made of a colorful array of cloth remnants sewn together to form a beautiful, but modest, room divider. 

When all the wazungu  wageni (non-African visitors) were seated, the old widow broke into song.  Chris Otsieno translated the song of praise and thanks that ended in a blessing.  In her benediction she said, “Thanks to God who has given you eyes to see poor people. If I had not received the monthly ration of food, I would be dead.” Belinda indicated that she had brought a special gift for Mrs Agutu.  As soon as she presented the blue dress to the old woman, she disappeared behind the curtain, donned the dress, and came out to show her visitors.  Elizabet sang again, but this time broke into dance as well.  She said she wanted to wear it to Sunday worship, but she could not wait, so she wore it for the rest of the day and the next day as well.

Elizabet excused herself and walked outside. As she exited her home, all the visitors exchanged knowing glances.  She was looking for a chicken.  She had expressed her gratitude in the previous year by binding the feet of a chicken together and handing the gift to Belinda, and this year was no different.  As she handed the gift over, it pooped on Belinda’s arm, which brought smiles to some of the onlookers and a relatively strong gag reflex to others.  Elizabet does not know enough English to understand the words, “Would someone hand me a Wet Wipe fast?” so she interpreted the smiles as delight.  The fact is everyone was delighted and moved with the beauty of the gift.  Mrs. Agutu asked if it were possible to take a chicken to the United States because she could select something easier to travel with if necessary.  She was assured that the chicken was the perfect present.  The cross-cultural exchange has been, and continues to be, a blessing to both women and to those who hear of their relationship.

An African Matriarch

Recorded by Stephen Greek

Paul Bwire translated for the seventy-four year old widow as she laughed, “I am inviting visitors into my house without a scarf for my head! I am embarrassed!” She was using the cloth that typically covered her short, grey hair to carry mangoes that had fallen from her tree. Her name was Elizabeth Agutu.

She followed us into her own grass-roofed hut and dumped the fruit onto the hard dirt floor. Lizbet (Elizabeth) said she was happy her tree was loaded with the sweet fruit. It had not yielded any fruit for the last two years. She added that this food is a blessing, but having this big a crop is interpreted by Luhya people as a warning that drought was on the way.

We sat in chairs made from skillfully bent tree branches. Our host chased several chickens out of her house and indicated that she only had four left since lisimba, the mongoose, had eaten the rest. But these chickens were safe because they were sleeping in the house with her.

She called me mtoto, the Swahili word for child, which surprised me since my white hair prompts most people to call me “old man.” She indicated that she had several pictures of the two of us together. I realized that I had met her before, but I have met so many people, I didn’t remember sending her the pictures.

Mandy explained who we were. We wanted to interview her on behalf of her sponsor in America. We asked what she would want us to tell her sponsor. Her first response was that without the food, tea, and soap she had received this year she would be dead. She pointed to her great-granddaughter who was sitting, nursing her great-great-grandchild and added that they also had been eating the food. When we asked about her marriage, she reflected that she was married in 1946 and had her only daughter, Rispa, in 1948. Rispa grew up, married, and had six daughters, but she died when these children were still young. While her husband was attending the funeral of his only daughter, he sat in a chair grieving and suffered a deadly heart attack, right there at the funeral.

Mandy leaned over and asked me if it would be okay if she divulged the fact that Mandy’s mother, Belinda, who was traveling with us, was Elizabeth’s sponsor. She wondered if it would be appropriate for Belinda to come meet her the following day. I thought it was a great idea so Mandy divulged the secret. Lizbet Agutu immediately stood up and raised her hands as if basking in a blessing from God, she stood for a moment then started waiving her arms back and forth. She reached out to Mandy and embraced her. As she spoke, Paul translated, “your mother is very welcome, in fact she is my daughter and you are my granddaughter.”

The next day, Paul, Chris and I took Belinda see Mrs. Agutu. We came with a four-inch thick foam rubber mattress we had purchased for eleven dollars. As we introduced Belinda to Lizbet, they hugged and Lizbet insisted on a picture.

She walked over to her bed (also made of tree branches) and lifted the wool blanket exposing a stiff cow hide. “I want you to see what we have been sleeping on for all of these years!” Then Lizbet Agutu did what must be an ancient dance of jubilation. Her arms were lifted in celebration as she approached me. The old woman put her arms down and rested one hand on each of my shoulders. “Mtoto wangu! Ndio, wewe ni kijana wangu!” My child, yes, you are my son! Barak Obama has a white mother and you have a black one!” Then she abruptly turned toward a bag in the corner. She got a handful of maize and walked to the door of her hut. She made a call that sounded remarkably like a chicken and four hens came running to peck at the kernels that had been thrown to the threshold of her house. She reached down and grabbed the largest of the hens and walked over to Belinda.

She interpreted the shock on Belinda’s face as surprise at the reciprocal gift. She tied the legs of the bird, placed it ceremoniously into Belinda’s lap, and hugged her again and said, all my grandchildren are dead, but tonight, my daughter from America has come to visit me and I will not sleep on a cow skin tonight. She broke into a shrill, “lalalalalalalaaa!” Paul translated it, “Hallelujah!”

Fences of Brotherly Love

“Our enemies have blinded our cow!” The board members of Gift Academy
wrote to Jeff last month adding that they needed a fence around their
fledgling school to protect the children and the two milk cows.  The
letter indicated that a neighbor had thrown a stone at one of the
cows, hitting it in the head, and damaging its right eye.  “We don’t
know who threw the stone, but this morning the cow was injured!  One
of our enemies has done this and we need to build a fence for
protection from those with bitterness in their hearts.”

Jeff responded.  Rather than build a fence, why not address the
bitterness.  He suggested that a list of family names be compiled with
“enemies” of Gift Academy at the top of the list.  Jesus taught that
we should love our enemies.  In a situation like this, he might have
reminded us that we have heard it said, “an eye for an eye, and a
tooth for a tooth,” but we should forgive those who persecute us and
be kind to those who blind our cow!

Our mission group visited Gift Academy last week.  They have been the
beneficiaries of some contributions from Christians in the States
recently and have built a small one room classroom that also serves as
a dining area, church building, and dormitory for the 25 orphans who
stay there full time.  The milk cows were given to help feed the 40
children learning there.  While there is a genuine need for protection
for these children, nurturing rapport with the neighbors might be a
better way to protect them than a fence.  Claudia and I had the
privilege of visiting 12 of the 20 families on “the list of enemies.”
Before going to the first house, we discussed the fact that all of
these people were God’s children, created in his image, and should not
be referred to as enemies, but rather as neighbors.  The word enemy
was removed from our vocabulary.  In an expression of love for our
neighbors we wanted to bless each home with a gift of a goat.

Seven members of the Board of Directors of the small school/orphanage
walked through the rural shambas (gardens) of maize and vegetables. At
each house we visited, we met a family who worked hard to “make a
living.”  I use these words in a literal sense, for without the daily
attention to the gardens, “ketch kayogi,” hunger bites them.  In fact
we met several people named Aketch and Oketch, names given to a girl
or boy born during a time of extreme hunger.

We explained that we are Christians and we take the teachings of Jesus
very seriously.  He tells us to love our neighbors.  The donors
helping Gift Academy and Sam’s Place want to be a blessing to the
people in the entire community.  The reason the board chose the name
“Gift” is not because they want to receive gifts, but rather give
blessings to the people in the neighborhood.  We wanted to present
them with a female goat.  Although the goat is free, we do make one
request.  That the first born kid of the nanny be given to another
neighbor, and this family would respond the same way so that this gift
can continue to bless the community for many years.  This “pay it
forward” goat project was warmly received.

In each house, we prayed for blessings from God, and left with
confidence that we had made new friends.  Everyone expressed joy and
excitement, indicating that this is the way communities should be,
neighbors helping one another.  Gift Academy no longer wants a fence.
But they are thinking about a goat pen!



Stephen Greek