A Different Kind of November

On Sunday, we attended church in Kosovo, a small community near Bondeni. After the service, several church leaders gathered for lunch in the church building.

We noticed an unfamiliar little boy hanging around. He had come inside and lingered for about thirty minutes before we asked Mary, the Director of Mission of Hope, who he was. She suspected he was a street child who’d wandered in.

The little boy appeared to be about 3 years old and watched us eat lunch. We asked him his name. When he didn’t respond, we asked someone to ask him his name in Swahili. He didn’t understand or respond to either language.

When Melissa had finished her meal and her plate was empty, Mary took the dirty plate, put some rice and beans on it and gave it to him.

For the first time, he cracked a small smile. Silently, he put his plate on the bench and then climbed up to sit next to it. He had trouble getting the spoon from the plate to his mouth so Melissa held the plate closer to him. He ate the food quickly. When he reached the final few bites of food, his motor skills weren’t developed enough to scoop the last tidbits with the spoon. (This was actually a funny, but sad sight. He’d lift an empty spoon to his mouth and then look confused when he discovered that no food had made it to his mouth.). So, we fed him.  We scraped the plate so he could enjoy as much food as possible. Literally feeding a street child in the slums of Kenya changes your perspective on life.

We had been sharing a soda so we gave the boy the remainder of our Coke as well. He sweetly drank out of the glass bottle which was nearly bigger than he was. When he was done, he gave us back the bottle and went outside to play. It’s scary to think he was in the church for nearly 90 minutes and nobody came to look for him.

Chris loved taking pictures of our new little friend. Though dirty, he was incredibly photogenic. He had two different kinds of shoes on- a busted sneaker without laces and a sandal. The sneaker was also on the wrong foot. Not only was he dressed poorly, but at age 3, he wasn’t speaking or understanding either of the national languages of Kenya. It’s enough to break your heart.

About 2 hours later, his mother came to find him. Keith, our missionary friend, talked to the boy’s mom in Swahili and discovered his name was Shadrack.

Shadrack, and thousands of kids like him, need help- educationally, physically, spiritually and emotionally. Shadrack represents what kids in Bondeni look like when they’re not influenced by the Hope Schools and impacted by the love of Christ.

We’re praying that Shadrack might someday be sponsored by a loving person or family who will make it possible for him to receive the services of a Hope School. In the mean time, we’re thankful that Hope Schools exist in Nairobi. Hundreds of kids no longer look and act like Shadrack thanks to the Hope Partnership.