Graduates Facing an Unknown Future

By Christy

We were very excited to arrive at Empowering Lives International (ELI) in time for the last of a 6 week training for the "Graduates" — the youth from the Children's Home who had just completed the equivalent of high school. At this stage, they were "aging out" of the Children's Home, and heading into the next chapter, a very unknown chapter, in their lives. This was a defining moment when they would leave their home. They had grown up here with their house parents and their many brothers and sisters, and continued to come home here to reconnect with their ELI family on breaks during secondary school.

Now, they would be heading out on their own, launched into the "real world." The future was full of uncertainty for each one because of how the Kenyan education system works. In the last month of high school, every student takes a national exam. This exam determines everything about their educational and career future. There is only one chance to take it. Prior to taking the exam, students indicate a few preferences for a course of study (e.g., an engineering path, or medical). Then, months after taking the exam, they receive their results, and still about a month later—if they got top grades, they will receive a letter from a university, inviting them to attend and offering scholarship. Often they will not be given the course of study or career path that they desired. Some will learn that they didn't score well enough to go to university at all, and that will be the end of their chance for schooling. In that case, they will need to get a job or enroll in a trade program to learn something like tailoring or metal work. For the remainder “in the middle”, they will have to do more footwork to search and identify possible schools that might accept them, but which they may be unable to afford. I was blown away by how much was at stake with this one exam, and how little choice students have in determining their future.

These graduates had taken the exam in November, and were in the "waiting phase" for the results. What a potentially scary and anxious time! During this waiting period, Empowering Lives was providing them with room, board, and training, led by their petite and very passionate and capable Instructor, Phelistus, whom everyone called "Mama Zawadi" (pictured with our family).

The training was to provide 1) life skills and 2) entrepreneurial skills for starting a successful business, which they can pursue if their schooling ends here, or to earn money during university to pay for expenses since they don't have parents to pay for it. 

Our first chance to spend time with the 20+ Graduates was Sunday afternoon, our first day at Empowering Lives. We took them through some Trust exercises since the theme of Trust would be huge in their lives in the months to come--trusting God with his plans for their future, deciding whom to trust in the unknown chapter ahead, and trusting themselves. They were extremely shy during the activities, and very timid during the discussions.  I tried to stay energetic, though inside, my heart was sinking: “Oh, man, they’re not saying a word…they think this is lame…Ay-yay—they’re gonna dread going to sessions with us Mzungu (white ones) this week.”

They were really hard to read, and we hoped for some break-throughs. That evening after dinner, we joined in with some of them who were playing cards. We taught them Crazy 8's. They were still pretty shy. Then, we taught them Spoons. We all belly laughed every time we made the frenzied rush to grab for spoons, and it helped break the ice.

During one of the meals, I got into a conversation with Victor, one of the Graduates. Among other topics, he asked me about cookies. He recalled that an American visitor who came before had made cookies, and they were delicious. Ahh...that spawned the vision for baking "American" cookies. The next day I got a ride into town, and after 2 stores to find vanilla, I tracked down all the ingredients and we were ready for action to make Snickerdoodles and classic Chocolate Chip cookies. We told Victor, and began inviting the others to come over for a cookie-baking party. Though they were still shy, they responded with total enthusiasm to the cookie invitation! Near the end of dinner, just before the cookie baking was to begin...the electricity went out. This was not unusual here, so why did it take me by surprise? Oh, that stinks, will we have to cancel? We told the students to come join us at our cottage in a bit, and Shayla and I gathered candles and began setting up ingredients using our head lamp flashlights. Students began arriving, and I started thinking it actually might be more fun making cookies together in the dark…but before long, the power came back on.  

What proceeded is a night I will always remember--and cherish. There we were, me and Shayla and Mary, one of the House Parents, with a kitchen full of Graduates "rolling up their sleeves" and totally getting into our baking project.
    

 

The image is so vivid in my mind: these big 19 year old guys so carefully measuring sugar and butter into measuring cups for the first time, and others learning how to crack an egg. 

 

 


[That’s  Victor next to me below, holding the giant block of chocolate we used to improvise for chocolate chips]

Meanwhile, our living room was full of Graduates, too, some trying strums on our guitar, and others (including Trevor) having a great time playing Uno and Jenga.

When the cookies were done, we passed plates all around so they could all try them. They were quite pleased with their creations. After the cooking, conversation ensued. One student shared with Shayla about the traditions in his tribe. He himself was circumcised at age 12 as a "rite of passage" and spent one month in the bush alone. He hunted for food with a bow and arrow, and he killed 12 snakes. How wild it was to learn that this "typical" teen hanging out with us in jeans and a T-shirt had taken part in such traditional tribal experiences, which still take place today in a village not far away.

They stayed late. We were sad to see them all go. What an incredible night. I loved it!! There's nothing more joyous for me than a house full of young people, laughing, loud, playing games, and connecting...and on top of that, we were thousands of miles across the globe, enjoying warm cookies together with our new Kenyan friends, as they taught us Swahili. Awesome!

Throughout the week, we led several workshop sessions with the Graduates, interspersed with work they needed to do individually on their strategic business plan. Each of them had to come up with a business idea. One student was making shampoo. Several others were planning a “cafe” where they would serve chai and mandazi (african donut). One night I had a long conversation with Brian. He shared with me that his mother died of malaria when he was 6, and his father died when he was 9. Unimaginable.
I asked him about his business idea, and his hopes for the future. His answer surprised me. He said he’d like to do real estate. I had asked this same question of most of the students. Most of them were planning on selling food, or re-selling clothing, etc. Brian’s answer was so different than all the rest. We talked further and he told me that his Sponsor (someone who gives financial and moral support) lived in California. And he was in real estate. Ahhhh…Now it made sense. That’s where the inspiration had come from! Once again, I am struck by how powerful the impact of a Sponsor is in the lives of kids here in Africa! I keep seeing the many different ways that a Sponsor impacts the life of the child they support. They give a child encouragement, a sense of belonging, access to education of course, but also less tangible, but critically important things like vision for their future, and hope.  [To sponsor a child, click here.]

   Throughout the week, we did some experiential activities with the Graduates that reinforced some of their training topics, like critical thinking and communication. I led a few sessions with them to help with clarifying their life purpose, using some wonderful curriculum developed by a new friend  and kindred spirit named Suzi whom I met in India (who is also from the Bay Area, but it took us both volunteering at an Orphanage in India to cross paths!). In those sessions I emphasized how each one of them is one of a kind and has an irreplaceable role to play in this world, given their unique talents, experiences and concerns. We gave them time to reflect, and to discuss with peers.

   

Afterwards, Mama Zawadi, who participated in the reflection exercises, told me that these are not topics that people discuss in their culture, and if she would have done those exercises when she was their age, things would have been so much clearer. Then she proceeded to share with me her winding (and difficult) journey before she discovered her "calling" in life. [Note: Her story was so inspiring, and impacted me so much, that I'm going to write a separate blog about it, so stay tuned.]

We also got to lead the very powerful exercise that we had done with youth in Uganda, where they each put a blank paper on their back, and wrote notes about the strengths and special character qualities that they see in each other.

     Barry played some background tunes on guitar, and I intended to lay low while they wrote notes to one another, since they knew each other so much better than I did from all their experiences together.

One of them came up to me to have me write on theirs, and then others lined up as well. It took me by surprise, since I'd known them only a matter of days. It left a deep impression for me...of how much it means to people to have someone affirm their uniqueness and strengths, of how rarely people may hear those things from others (here in Africa, in America, in any culture), and how much treasure and value you can see in others in a very short time, if you look.

The next day, Friday, was the Graduation celebration of the extensive training course. There were speeches by staff and invited guests. Mama Zawadi spoke impassioned words of encouragement to the Graduates, expressing her belief in them and emphasizing that today they would only be receiving a "Certificate of Completion", which was far less important than the "Certificate of Competency" that they would receive in one year, when they have followed through on the plans and commitments they made during this course. It was a sentimental ceremony, and Barry and I had the honor of presenting certificates to some of the graduates. 

Afterwards, there were lots of hugs and congratulations and group photographs, followed by a celebration lunch (which included the ever tasty chapati, always present at special occasions).

After that, they would say farewells and each travel to their own villages where they would stay with someone (a grandma or an older sibling, if they had relatives) and await their exam results and their "future." It felt like such a privilege to get to spend their very last week with them before they "launched into the world." I couldn't imagine what it would be like to be faced with this daunting moment in life, leaving the Children's Home permanently, that they had grown up in. When I finished high school like they just did, I knew I would still be coming home every summer during college, and I would lean on my parents a lot in the years ahead as I found my way in life. They won't have that same comfort.

  
That afternoon, most of the Graduates gathered all their belongings and headed out. My heart ached to see them go, wanting so much for all their hopes and dreams to be realized. In the morning, we had breakfast with Mama Zawadi and the last few students who remained. Victor (our cookie inspirer) and Bernard would be walking the mile and a half to the paved road where they would catch a matatu (bus) to their village.

To postpone having to say goodbye, we decided to join them for the walk.  We talked some along the way, but there was also a somber, intimate quiet between us as we walked that dirt road together for their last time.  I wondered what emotions they were feeling about leaving their Empowering Lives home after all their years there, and how they were feeling about who they were going to live with, and about what lies ahead for them. We took photos with them in front of the road sign pointing to Empowering Lives, and then we gave them hugs. 

My heart was heavy with the feeling I’d now experienced several times on this venture…saying goodbye to someone I had grown fond of, and realizing I will probably never see them again during this lifetime. I felt added emotion, given all the uncertainty they faced about their future. I felt the pangs of a mom, sending a child out into the world, perhaps the feelings that the birth mom they had lost, would be feeling at this milestone. Oh, how I wanted the very best for them, and for all their hopes and dreams for the future to be fulfilled. I felt uneasiness and sorrow at this moment of saying farewell, but I also had a feeling of peacefulness, knowing that we’d had this encounter together for a reason, and that God is holding them and their future in his faithful hands.

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Life and times at Empowering Lives

                                                         By  Shayla
Each day I wake up under my mosquito net canopy, and roll out of bed in my own room (say what?!). I've gotten so used to our modest conditions, in roommate or dorm living situations, and I've come to like living simply. Even so, it was nice to be able to spread out and it felt more like a home, and not so temporary. The house is quiet as we each tune in to our own morning devotions. The wonderful thing about living out of a backpack in Africa is I have just a few skirts to choose from and all I have to do is select a T-shirt that matches. Flip flops are a no brainer and voila! I'm ready for the day.
Here at ELI all our meals are prepared by the gracious cooks here, Joel and Angelina, so it's always a surprise. But after only a few days it's not hard to guess. It's likely that breakfast will consist of toast and plum or pineapple "Zesta" jam, maybe mandazi (like a fluffy fried pancake) or an egg (usually hard boiled) if we're lucky.

For lunch and "supper" it's pretty much a guarantee I will see rice on my plate and some kind of broth or beans, with the occasional chapati (like a thick skillet-fried tortilla), which is a family favorite ever since India. Every once in a while we are met with a treat of with scrambled eggs for breakfast, or a pizza-like casserole for supper. I do like his rice dishes, but you know, variety is the spice of life. Oh, and the Kenyans would be appalled if I forgot about the Chai. Sweetened, piping hot Chai tea is available at every meal.
In the late mornings we all spread out and get things done: Journaling is always a struggle to keep up on since there is so much to say and so much to do. Often, we plan evening devotions for the kids, or get some school work out of the way. It's a pretty perfect set up to get things checked off the list while the kids are all at school. 

Once each day, we often visit a different grade classroom at school, bringing in our own Tonge flair with critical thinking games, stories from our adventures, or a game from Dad’s box of tricks.


Samro is the school that is situated right beside the ELI children's home and training center and was founded by Samuel and Roda (thus the name). Because it is so close, the kids from the children's home only have a short 2 minute walk early each morning. Since we are living right next to a school and they have welcomed us in, we have learned a whole lot about the Kenyan school system. As we've mentioned in other blogs, school fees are a major burden, especially for rural families like those in this surrounding community. There is no such thing as "free" education through the tax system like we have in the US. The most obvious difference in their school system and ours is their incredibly loooong school days. The Boarding students go into class first thing in the morning for  "preps" (study time), by 5am. They all get breakfast--normally a thick porridge or a slice of white bread--at 6:30, and class officially begins at 7. Besides an hour lunch break, when the kids from ELI return back home to eat, and we get to see them, they are in class all day long. The preschool and kindergarten classes get out at 3pm, grades 1 to 3 at 4pm, and grades 4 to 8 at 5 pm.
As if that isn't enough, grades 6-8 go back for more preps from 7-9pm, and then head straight to bed. After learning more, I understood the reasoning behind keeping students longer. I get out of school by 3pm, and go home and power through several hours of homework, but I am not sent to take the cows to graze, or walk miles (kms) to fetch water, or cook all evening to feed the household like these kids often might. If they get sent with work, the demands of their rural lifestyle would pry them away from their studies and then they might not perform so well on their exams. And performing well on exams is the thing that concerns and consumes kids here more than anything else, because of how the Kenyan school system is set up. In grade 8 every student in the country takes a national exam that determines their future. If a student does exceedingly well, a top secondary school may accept them. There is a chance that they may not qualify for any secondary school, and if that happens, instead of entering 9th grade, they would have to learn a trade, such as tailoring, or start a small business or find other ways to make a living. So you can imagine why they stay at school late at night studying away--there is such immense pressure. Their whole future depends on one test score. One single number.

For our first visit to the Preschool classes, we prepared a skit based on the children's story of the Little Engine that Could and the 4 of us performed it, each of us playing the part of a different engine, and mom narrating. They sat in their little uniforms side by side in their wooden bench desks, looking up at us with wide eyes and joining in for the phrases we taught them ("I think I can!"). I'm not sure how much they really understood since they speak only their local language at home, and first get introduced to English in Preschool, but their teachers sure got into it. :)
One early afternoon we got invited to the Grade 7 and 8 classes. Their classes respectfully greeted us by standing up and welcoming us in unison. We shared about our experiences at the children's homes and in the villages in India and Thailand, bringing stories and photos, which they absolutely loved. It was fun to make the distant and unique cultures come alive for them. Thankfully we got past some of the shyness and they were able to ask us some of their curious questions. It was an unbelievably surreal experience to stand in front of a black board before a class of African students in old fashioned looking wooden bench desks in their checkered uniforms teaching them. After the bell rang and our time was up they invited us to stay and sit in on their Kiswahili class up next. They were so eager and we wanted to learn the language, so why not? Once again I had that "Is this really happening?" feeling. There we were--me, mom and dad (Trevor was sick in our cottage), squeezed into the little wooden desk seats next to our Kenyan classmates, attending "just another day of Swahili class."

One of the girls, Sarah, who became one of my good friends, invited me to sit next to her. So I squeezed in on the bench next to her and became a student rather than a teacher. It was so intriguing to sit in class as a student, not as a "guest speaker." I wondered if we would see or experience things firsthand that we had heard about--like the practice of caning, which is still common in Kenyan schools. The kids I've come to know have told me how in Kenya, teachers will use a cane (kind of like a stiff hose) to reprimand a student if they did not do their work, or if they give a wrong answer in class or get poor exam results. I wonder if that's why kids are reluctant to reply to our discussion questions when we speak to a class, even though we reassure them that there are "no wrong answers." Wow--it's a really different feel in the classrooms here than in the US. Here, students mostly listen and take notes for the whole period. Students in America are very open in expressing their thoughts and opinions (and complaints). In American classrooms, young people are encouraged to express their point of view, and consider different ways of solving a problem, or various perspectives on an issue. On the one hand, it develops critical thinking, but on the other hand, I can see how an outsider viewing an American classroom could think students are disrespectful or rude.
So there I sat with Sarah, who whispered translations and took notes on the whole lesson for me in English and Kiswahili as the teacher taught and scratched things up on the black board. Class let out and soon I was surrounded by students, apparently they now felt I was approachable. They asked me more questions and made jokes and we all broke out into laughter.

I walked back with some of the girls through the ELI gates, chatting as we kicked up dust. What fun! I finally felt like I was forming relationships and fitting in with our new community. 

At 4pm, after some journaling or World History work back at our cottage, I head over to the children's homes to catch the first round of kids after school. Without a doubt I can find a flock of excitable "littles," running around in the playing field. On one of our first few days, I went searching for some kids to spend time with. I was met with shaved-headed little ones running at full speed towards me, and I was taken hold of by tiny dark hands. 5 boys were high above my head in a tree calling, "Shayla, Shayla, Shayla!"

I smiled up at them before my attention was brought to a flock of the smallest boys: Ebe, Caleb, Joseph, Chariot, Vali, Seth and more, climbing all over a long, rusted metal tube, jumping and clamoring to get my attention. Little precious faces laughed and cried out my name. The scene was one of absolute chaos, it was actually ridiculous how crazy it all was. I planted myself on a concrete step and 3 or 4 kids gathered around me to braid (rather knot) and touch my hair. They are fascinated with it since none of them have any hair, let alone blonde hair.
(Here is Mom instead)
The little boys ran around waving leafy branches in my face and two of them alternated occupying my lap. I rested my chin on their fuzzy bald heads, holding these sweet and spirited little beings.

I was totally in my element. I have a passion for 3 and 4 year olds. At home I help in the toddler room at church, and for me, babysitting is way more of a treat than a job. Here I can spend time with these fun little kids for hours everyday. My heart was fuller than you can imagine. 
When they fought to hold my hand, and I tried (and failed) to keep the peace, I could feel without words that they loved being around me as much as I did with them. I loved those afternoon visits. Sometimes we would run around and chase one another, but most days, when the excited tugging on my arms got to be too much, I plopped down in the hay, and we'd sit in a pile of cuteness.


With one or two in my lap and 4 others around me, I'd tickle their round bellies and make faces at them that would send them giggling for minutes. Those times with my little loves where some of my favorite.



By 5pm I parade over with some littles in hand to greet the older kids coming home from school. 

I would ask them about their day and we'd talk and joke a bit before they'd have to go do some chores. As the sun sets, the older boys play volleyball with their mini net along with Trevor, many other kids gather by the spickets to do their wash, and I run around with Winny and several littles, kicking a deflated soccer ball in the red dirt. 


When the bell rings, everyone makes it back to their respective side: the East or West side huts to gather for devotion time. Our family rotates each night to join in with each house. The oldest kids--"class 8's"--usually lead worship, and we rejoice with clapping hands, while the littles dance and jump. We have come to love the songs here, they are so fun and joyful. Then comes the best part: kids from 3 years all the way to 13 stand up and voluntarily recite bible verses with such pride. It amazes me that even the tiniest of them bravely and even eagerly share their favorite scripture. It most definitely inspires me to do so. Most nights our family performs a skit of a bible story to help it come alive for them. They loved it and it brought such joy for us to bring so much delight to them, (which is what kept us going when we were exhausted in our afternoon brainstorm sessions. When i return to my seat on the bench after a skit, a little one climbs back in my lap and settles in.
I head over to the kitchen to help lug over large warm pots of ugali or cooked cabbage or kale (which they call "sukumawiki", in Swahili meaning, "pushing the week") and help serve up supper in one of the house commons.
 
We hang around, playing and laughing in the golden evening, postponing our own dinner to be with them.




The upper class kids eat quickly and then gather up to go back to school for evening preps. Later in our stay I got in the habit of escorting them, giggling and making jokes.

Even though they are in 7th and 8th grade, many of them are my age since they may not have begun school until they came to ELI. Even still I feel like a big sister to them, and I loved spending time with my gaggle of youth. :)
At 9pm on their way home in the dark, Trevor and I would be waiting to intercept them, and see them one last time before the day was over. The first time it happened, maybe a week in, I was in our house, already wearing pajamas, and I heard a commotion outside. I poked my head out, and I could see 12 of them over the fence waving me over. I ran to slip on a skirt, and hurried past the round huts to where they were gathered. I realized then, that they had just finished school! I was surrounded by hugs from the girls, whom I could only identify by their laughs because of the dark shadows. The topic on their minds was Valentine's day, since it was tomorrow, and they spoke in that nervous giggly manner that 12-14 year olds do whenever they bring up love or relationships. I told them about some of the traditions back home on Valentines day like the Singing Madrigals choir at my high school. "Romantic!" Sarah called out which led to another round of bubbling laughter. I couldn't see their faces in the dark night, but I could feel their energy. It was so precious.

This is the real them...the giggling teens they get to be when they don't have to be the responsible older siblings or diligent students. I love being around the real them, it makes my heart sing.

"Lala Salama! (Goodnight!)" we called after many rounds of hugs, and we turned to our respective houses. That night ideas began brewing of how to spend time with them and "meet them right where they are,” relationally and spiritually, as adolescents. 
Some evenings we invited friends over to share some "American culture" by baking sweet treats in our kitchen (I mean, we have to use our kitchen for something!). We bonded over mashing bananas and licking the brownie batter from the bowl.
Boy, this life is too beautiful to describe. How did I get so lucky? I have fallen in love with these people yet again. Daily life is always unexpected but I'm sure to find myself caught in a sweet or meaningful moment, and as each day passes we grow more comfortable and form deeper relationships with one another. Because the thing is, we get to do life together. On the first day, in the first few minutes they told us "Welcome Home." And now that is becoming a reality.
This is Home.

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