Manning and Nyango

What a long day.  Our first stop was at the brand new Manning Orphanage Home named for Tom Manning, whose family donated the funds to build this home in his honor.  Prior to the construction of the orphanage, this was the Ototo feeding station.  Ototo is the family home of Alfayo’s parents, and we met Joseph Bodi again today.  He is a church member, and donated the land for the orphanage.  The buildings are mostly complete; they were still working on the clinic and office building and the manager’s home.

  

The kids are in, consisting of the 50 orphans that received meals from the feeding program plus 10 more.  The two original widows are supplemented with two more to share the burden of cooking, cleaning, and mothering these beautiful kids.  We met with the kids, and the board and ate a hearty luch of Ugale (corn mush), Sukuma (greens), rice, beef and chicken. As usual, it is some of the best meals we get on these trips, much better than the hotel’s food.  After lunch we had to head out to find the Nyango feeding station.  Getting there was an adventure.  We drove our vehicle down a cow trail for about 2km and then walked the last kilometer through the bush.

Nyango, like many of these locations, owes it’s existence to a WBS student, Joseph, who was visited by a follow up worker and baptized.  He walked 30 km every Sunday to attend a church of Christ.  After a year of this, and his own evangelizing of his community, he started a new church with the help of Alfayo at Nyango. Like many churches his was touched by the need to care for so many orphans in their area.  He contacted Alfayo, who told the story to John DeFore, who told the story in Midland, and funds were provided for a new feeding station.  They have built a nice widows dorm, kitchen, latrine and dining hall.

The most touching part of these visits is meeting the widows for the first time.  All of them are unique individuals but their stories are similar. The interview goes something like this. “How long have you been a widow?”  “Eight years.”  “How old are your children?”  “Twelve, ten, and four.”  “How did you come to have the youngest one?” Tears.  Shame.  Fear.  It’s hard to watch but she needs to say it so there can be understanding, and she can know she is loved no matter what has happened. “During the post-election violence, I was raped.”  Sometimes it’s, “I was inherited.”  It doesn’t matter.  Women have so few options here, there is rarely any blame for her, but even if there is, we love them, forgive them, and accept them as Christ’s workers in the kingdom, no different that you or me.  They cry. We cry. Redemption.

We left under the threat of rain, but were spared any moisture.  We decided to head down the road to Homa Bay and see Lake Victoria, which we had never seen.  We were surprised to find the lake filled with floating plants called water hyacinths.  There were introduced to the lake about 30 years ago and have grown out of control.  They interfere with transportation, fishing, and thrive off the pollution from the cities that line the lake.  It’s interesting but really a shame.  Alfayo showed us the Nile Perch processing plant where he used to work and we met some of the leaders from the church at Homa Bay.  All in all an interesting side trip, but it made for a long day.  Tomorrow we head to Uriri!

Manning and Nyango