Our First Trip to Kenya

I remember about a year after our first trip to Kenya, which had changed us profoundly, we saw Bono on Larry King Live. He was sharing his experience, and Larry King asked him why he chose to do what he was doing. Bono said, “I didn’t chose this. I would never choose this. This happened to me.” Our lives changed forever by a seemingly chance encounter – one we didn’t choose or go looking for.

Early one morning in the fall of 2000, a gentleman called us about a car we had for sale. He said in a heavy accent, “I don’t have near enough to pay what you are asking, but would it be possible for me to come see the vehicle for sale anyway? I said, “Sure.”

Early one morning in the fall of 2000, a gentleman called us about a car we had for sale. He said in a heavy accent, “I don’t have near enough to pay what you are asking, but would it be possible for me to come see the vehicle for sale anyway? I said, “Sure.”

The man Roy met that day was Kenyan. His name was Joram Githumbi. Curious, as Roy always was, he asked Joram about his accent and they began a conversation that lasted the rest of the day. Joram and Roy discovered that they were both patients at MD Anderson undergoing cancer treatment. Both men were at a stage in their lives where they knew what was important and they wanted to make the most of the time they had left. Joram shared that he was currently trying to get help to build a children’s home in Kenya for AIDS orphans. The pandemic was ravaging the country and the continent at that time.

When Joram learned that Roy had the skills to help with the children’s home project, he asked Roy to go with him to Kenya for about six months to oversee construction. By late afternoon, Roy called me on the phone and said, “We’re going to Africa.”

We had no idea what to expect as we set out on this journey. I didn’t know what conditions we would be in, or whether or not there would be clean water and sanitation. We had no idea how Roy would continue his cancer treatments if we were in Kenya for six months. We were so sure we were in God’s will that we didn’t even worry about it. We knew God would provide. He would work it out. So we went on faith.

In March 2001, we set out on our first trip to Kenya for a three week visit to begin plans for permitting and construction. But day after day the things we saw left us disturbed and sleepless. I felt like I couldn’t breathe—not only from the smog and exhaust, but at a soul level.

In March 2001, we set out on our first trip to Kenya for a three week visit to begin plans for permitting and construction. But day after day the things we saw left us disturbed and sleepless. I felt like I couldn’t breathe—not only from the smog and exhaust, but at a soul level.

One day, we visited The Department of Children’s Services for an appointment to apply for a permit to build a children’s home with a woman named Margaret Basigwa. We had heard that Margaret was tough and very strict when it came to matters of caring for children – a U.S. missionary who was also working on building a children’s home told us that she was under the constant watch of Margaret to follow every requirement.

It was late in the afternoon on a hot day. I was tired and despondent, feeling like we weren’t getting anywhere. After Joram told Margaret our plans for the permit, Margaret dutifully went through the procedures, but Roy was keen to pick up on Margaret’s demeanor and resignation. Knowing that help for children in the situation caused by the pandemic was urgent, he expected her to be pleased that we wanted to help. She wasn’t. Roy abruptly stopped the discussion and reached out his hand toward Margaret. He said, “You don’t seem like you are happy about issuing this permit at all. Why don’t you tell us what is needed.”

Margaret grew very quiet for a few seconds. When she finally she spoke, she said, “What is really needed is that people would help Kenyans help themselves.” Roy said, “OK. What do you mean by that?” Another long pause ensued. Finally, Margaret divested herself of her hard, official exterior and softened. She told him that there were people in Kenya that were willing to help, and indeed, already helping children in need, but they lacked the resources to care for them. Working in the Department of Child Welfare, Margaret was constantly faced with lack of facilities to place children. Existing facilities could house 50,000, but statistically there were 2 million AIDS orphans at the time. She was so distraught and frustrated that she and her husband, Naftali had started taking in children themselves—one at a time. She gave an example of one time when she called Naftali explaining that a child was left in her office at the end of the day on Friday. She had nowhere to place him. Naftali said, “There’s always room for one more.”

I sat there stunned that she had used these very words. This was exactly what my dad always said when we would have our Sunday dinners at his home and we would want to bring guests. There was always enough food, no matter how many showed up.

I sat there stunned that she had used these very words. This was exactly what my dad always said when we would have our Sunday dinners at his home and we would want to bring guests. There was always enough food, no matter how many showed up.

Before we left that day, Margaret asked us if she could pray. We all held hands and listened to a heart of praise poured out like we had never heard and the presence of the Holy Spirit filled the room. No longer was I in despair, but filled I was now with hope. We applied for and received the permit for a children’s home; but instead of building, Roy negotiated a contract to purchase a well-outfitted school for the home for Providence Ministries started by Joram. This school is still in existence in the outskirts of Nairobi, and has been renamed in Joram’s memory as the Joram Gitau Memorial Academy.