From: Kevin Bonzo - Kenya Team, 7/16 11:00am

Dear Fellow Believers,

Disclaimer: Hey y'all, my name is Kevin Bonzo. I'm now in my 20s as of July 5, I'm one of the two college students on this trip, and I have long, black hair. That last sentence probably didn't make a whole lot of sense, since you don't have a context in which to understand what I've said. But here's the context I want you guys to read my perspective of this trip from - informal, expressive, and often emotional. As a matter of fact, just read it as if you were reading my personal journal. Each of the six of us on the Kenya team will be blogging about our experiences; it is my full intention to not merely report to you but to share with you as much as I can so that you will hopefully see and feel a bit of what I have been observing here. So, let's get started.

The shift from our layover in Dubai to Kenya was quite a shock to my system. I knew that we'd be traveling from the United States - a well-off country - to the United Arab Emirates - an very rich country - to Kenya - a very poor country. However, such a theory can only take one's understanding so far. Perhaps this will sound harsh to some, but I was quite sickened by my experience in Dubai. I was reminded several times of a quote I agree with very much as I was taken on tour throughout the city at night - "People had too much. They threw away things people kill each other over now." (The Book of Eli, a post-apocalyptic movie). But my inner disgust grew even more when I landed in Kenya. My first thoughts upon landing in Kenya and leaving the airport was that I actually felt like I was in another country, and that somehow comforted me far more than when we stopped in Dubai for those 15 hours or so. I will say this once, and I'll probably revisit the idea again later - we have so much more than we need, and we hardly take advantage of it all. Especially each others' good company.

We were greeted by Chris Okuna and his nephew Lips. They shook our hands, as well as hugged us. I immediately felt welcome and as if I were entering into a new home, though we wouldn't even reach the Okuna home for at least another hour. I will try not to revisit my Dubai experience, since my objective here is to relate my Kenya experience to you, but I believe it is important to let you know what will hopefully be my last negative remark about a place many of you probably haven't visited for yourselves - I have stressed and may continue to stress that Kenya feels like a home to me, and I will give that a contrast by telling you that Dubai felt like a theme park. A place full of wonder (for the first few hours), with many touristy-y "rides", many people, and lots of things to buy for no less than what will empty your wallet. The others called it the Las Vegas of this side of the world. I've never been there, so I can only call it Disneyland, since I was reminded of the shallow nature of it all. But, I apologize - I am not here to give a "bad review" on Dubai. Again, I wish to provide you with a contrast. So, I will make one last comment about it and move on - something I remember one of us saying is that, "Dubai actually makes me feel good about America." They were, of course, referring to how many resources we have so that we can provide for our needs, as well as many, many comforts. Well, Dubai has that times about 100.

Anyway, back to Kenya. I have to say that yesterday night was actually the night I was supposed to have written this blog entry for you all. However, let me just say that Kenya time moves very slowly, allowing for a very great amount of activities to get done. These activities, in turn, require a very great amount of energy, and I've still not gotten a very great amount of sleep. This all adds up to me making up excuses for why I didn't complete this homework yesterday night like Matt Seadore had told me to. :) No, but seriously - the reason I decided to hold off writing this first entry until tonight was because last night I was writing a report of what happened on our first day in Kenya. I couldn't do it - the words themselves felt hollow and too constricted, since I was trying to share my experience rather than report it. Therefore, I waited to collect and organize my thoughts and feelings until tonight (heh, that didn't work out very well, I guess).

I just had a blank moment after briefly talking to Jordan Burnam, the other college student with us and my roommate. I confessed to him that I was nervous about how you will all receive my writing style. He told me to "just be honest". As we closed our little chat, we noted that in just our short time of two days here, we've still not been able to process very much of what's happened to us. Tell me, how can I express to you what it first felt like to go to Raila School, where 900 students are enrolled? How shall I tell you what it feels like that to get there, we actually travel into the Kibera Slum, through dirt roads lined with rusty, metal shacks that serve as shops? How do I feel when we are being shown around the school full of children, youths, and young adults and a broken sewer line has created a thin stream of brown water that cross in front of the dining hall and across the field? Honestly? I do not truly know how to put that in words, except that I suddenly feel like crying just by writing it down. But, wait - it gets better. And I'm not being sarcastic - I mean it.

The first time we entered through its gates, the gate keeper was smiling and waving to us through the land rover's glass. We knew not what to do except wave right back, incapable of not including a smile to return the kindness. A young man named Philip took us around the school grounds, introducing us to teachers, administrators, and staff. They were all very welcoming and courteous. We were shown the kitchen and the cooking area outside, where a very hearty and cost-efficient meal was being prepared for the students' lunch. We were shown inside the center for women by a very warm and welcoming women named Anna. This place offers training for trades of sewing, weaving, beading, and more to bring in a source of income for their families in the slum. The merchandise was all very impressive and creative, the most ingenious being a fireless cooker. Other items that caught my attention were ties and belts many exclusively out of small beads. I may have to purchase my first souvenir from here. Resiliency, resourcefulness, and efficiency. Not to mention a warm and loving nature on top of and throughout it all.

But, wait still - it gets better again. We exited the front door of the trade-training center only to see a class of children in the field all looking at us and chattering excitedly amongst themselves. Philip led us to them, leaving us vulnerable to being swarmed by the toddlers. They grabbed my hands, repeatedly asking one of the few English phrases they new but probably didn't understand - "How are you? How are you? How are you?" Yes, the energy was high, and their chatter in Kiswahili was very interesting. Before I knew it, I was laughing uncontrollably as I played with them by lifting them up a bit as they latched onto my arms. I couldn't remember the slum just outside the gates, nor the strong smell caused by the a broken sewer line, nor my thoughts of the true poverty I had seen thus far within the very city limits of Nairobi, capital of Kenya. I could hardly even notice that these children were dirty in their school uniforms. What I did notice were a bunch of bright and wide eyes staring up at me, vying for my attention and love. And I couldn't help but oblige.

Let's skip ahead, since this is starting to get long. We'll pick up where Philip and Anna led us through the Kibera Slum. Everywhere, intermingled amidst the vendors and their merchandise, there is refuse and debris. They look us over as we walk through their neighborhood. Philip tells us that whatever you need, you can find in Kibera, though it will be stolen. He also tells us that there are other pockets of people living in a similar conditions elsewhere in Nairobi, culminating in about 80% of the population living under such conditions. How does one react to information like that? Later that night, Chris Okuna would show me a short film about an HIV positive boy whose parents are most likely dead, leaving him to fend for himself (usually resulting in his not eating for three days). His dream is to become a pilot to fly far away from the slum where he could meet with his parents to hug him and kiss him and love him. Chris new the boy personally and helped make the video a year or so ago. He has since lost contact with him.

As we walk through the slum, an elderly women walks quickly out of an alleyway just as we're about to pass it (actually, it turns out it's actually a route to a deeper part of the neighborhood). Anna calls out to her, and she turns with a welcoming smile. Her name is Miriam, and she later told us that she had felt rushed as if late for an appointment. We all credited it to a divine appointment by God, since the timing was uncanny - if she had not hurried, we would have passed the "alleyway" and never spotted her. She took us back through a complicated path that was steep, tight, and slippery (due to open refuse creating a small, brown stream). We came across three children sitting in the dirt just outside their "street's" gate, without their mother in sight. They weren't just children - they were infants. There mothers may have been like the mothers Miriam would tell us about later - unable to care for them at the work place, so they have to leave them at home to eat soil. Literally.

When we came to Miriam's street and entered through the gate, I noticed that there were several "houses" built on other side. She welcomed us into her home immediately, which was behind a close line. Once inside, we had to shuffle around sideways to scoot onto the two benches, one possibly being Miriam's own bed. It was tight, but I didn't mind. I was too busy studying the surroundings, but more so listening to the conversation that followed. But first, she asked if she could pray for us. By then, I was already deeply troubled by what I'd seen thus far, as well as deeply touched that she had invited all of us into her home on a whim, but then that she wanted to pray for us and our mission. I wanted to cry, but I knew it was not an acceptable thing to do just then. I was thankful, but even more so I was humbled by her humble and lowly spirit. She told us of all the amazing ministries she had participated in and leads and plans to lead. She told us of her great gratitude for us, crediting all of the good things in her life to God. Philip and Anna both chimed in around the end, also showing their great gratitude for MVC's contributions to First Love over the years. Philip was especially grateful, as he once attended Raila School himself, and credits its continued success to those funding it like MVC. We left and were guided back through the complicated and dangerous route by Miriam, who had no trouble traversing the terrain at all. We said our farewells and parted ways.

It is 9:26PM now. Jordan has just walked in to sleep. We wake for breakfast at 5:30AM, since we leave at 6AM. I've been working on this entry for well over an hour, and technically well over 24 since my first attempt failed miserably last night. Honestly, I don't know what else to say, nor how to end. I know I have been jumping from event to event, probably not explaining things as much as you'd like. For that, I apologize - I wish all of you could somehow be here as well, with me and the others, so that you could have your own experiences. For it is quite impossible for any of us to really share our experiences fully, especially since we can't even process all that's happened in just the two days we've been here! Heck, I haven't even told y'all about the rest of the Raila School experience, nor the Karen Orphanage experience yesterday or today, nor the food we've eaten! There is so much to tell even in just a straight forward report, let alone that I somehow relate how I truly feel about all of this. I do apologize for being unable to, for I wish it were possible to. :)

All I can say is this for now - God is truly moving here, amongst these people, our Brothers and Sisters in Kenya. For those that believe in Him, they are comforted greatly even in the midst of a situation I would despair in. There is love and acceptance here amongst those involved in First Love, regardless of your skin color, language, or level of intelligence. I want more of our Lord Jesus to shine through the situations I'm placed in so that I and the team can become even more dazzled by His glory. Pray for our supernatural encounters - that we would enter into them wholeheartedly with the Lord, without fear or hesitation. Pray that we would pour out ourselves entirely to welcome in the love and power of the Holy Spirit. And pray for our Kenya Fellows in Christ - for it is right to lift one another up to the Lord.

So. Yeah. That was my first one - may there be many more, but perhaps more organized and coherent. :) I love you, my Fellows. I pray for your continued growth with the Lord back home, for He is surely moving and working mightily there as well.

May the Lord bless you and protect you. May the Lord smile on you and be gracious to you. May the Lord show you His favor and give you His peace. (Numbers 6:24-26)

Jesus loves you. Peace be with you.

- Kevin.