Orphans and Widows

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father is this:
to visit orphans and widows in their affliction,
and to keep oneself unstained from the world.
James 1:27

Today I met John. He is a tall, lean young man with angular features and high cheekbones. His skin is shiny and dark like espresso coffee beans and his eyes almost close when he grins. Growing up near Thika, he was trained in car mechanics but his passion is to serve the Lord Jesus. The Father has given him a ministry in locating and caring for widows and orphans in our community. He doesn’t work full time but does odd jobs here and there to support his family and buy food for others God has put under his care. The rest of his time is spent gathering resources and visiting those who depend on him. So today I went with him and Stacey, a missionary, down to the valley, to Kijabe town, to distribute food to six different widows who themselves are looking after a total of over 20 children.

It wasn’t far but the way was steep and Stacey’ Land Rover heaved from side to side over the boulders trying to avoid the deep crevasses. Our journey continued on the flat on a narrow, red dirt road, passing by cornfields brown and lifeless because of the continuing drought. Just over a small hill the road stopped and we all got out. John lifted a large blue plastic bag of food—maize meal, potatoes and dried beans—onto his shoulders and we followed him to a small house made of sticks and mud at the end of the path. We were met by a 15-year-old girl—thin and shy—who led us into a dark room where her grandmother lay in a make-shift bed covered with dirty sheets. Nearly blind, the old woman responded to John’s greeting and he spoke to her gently in Kikuyu. After a few minutes of conversation, we gathered around her bed and prayed together. John explained afterwards that he is concerned for the young girl because she has no skill training and after the grandmother dies, she, and her four-year-old brother, will be even more destitute.

Driving on a little ways, we came to Mary’s small mud house. She and her sister came to greet us, two small, bird-like women dressed in ragged clothing and flashing huge toothless smiles—such joy! There were handshakes and hugs all around. Mary is caring for a hodgepodge of children—some are her grandchildren who have lost parents to AIDS, some are other relatives, and some have been displaced by the recent tribal violence, the whereabouts of their parents unknown. There was much discussion between them and John, most of it good natured and filled with laughter. Mary chided John about something and when we questioned him he explained that she had asked for Kikuyu Bibles three previous times and he had forgotten them again! Though they are expensive he assured her he would remember next month. John also told her that he would try and transport a donated couch to her on the next visit. Right now there is no place for them to all sit at once. Again we gathered together and prayed.

There were a few other stops and a few other stories but eventually all the blue plastic bags were gone and we drove back up the winding road on the side of the cliff to the hospital.

Back at Stacey’s house, I talked with John a little bit. He said he is saving to buy land and to build a house nearby where he can take care of these women and their orphans. He also has a concern for street boys that live in Kijabe and wants to start ministering to them. These are his hopes and dreams.

- Kathy