Many of you remember the girl named Kakuko who I met April 2011 on my five-week journey to rural Kenya. My friend Michael took me out to "the bush", better known as the village of Alale, where Michael spent his early childhood. We stayed at his mother's homestead, which consisted of a mud hut and a fire pit. During this trip, I met Kakuko. I didn't especially notice her at first. She was shy and kept smiling at me from behind her beautifully colored head scarf. I climbed a mountain with her and several other local children. Later that day, a local boy who had been herding goats came to me with an open leg wound. I bandaged him up with my makeshift first aid kit as the children watched.
The next morning, Kakuko came to find me. She took the scarf off from her head to show me one of the worst ear infections I had ever seen. I think she thought I could fix it with my first aid kit. It was also then that I found out that Kakuko was an orphan, which meant she had absolutely no one to care for her. She had a guardian who she lived with, but she was not considered family and was not treated as a daughter. Michael and I were her only shot at finding healing for her ear.
Through a string of events (see my previous post entitled "The Story of Kakuko"), we brought her back to Kapenguria to receive proper medical treatment, live with Michael and his family, and start going to Daylight after her ear had healed. We also gave her the name "Grace", since that's what brought us together. Everything was going well. She was learning Swahili and a little English. She was adapting to life in the "city". She was becoming a part of Michael's family. And her ear had completely healed thanks to medicine that could only be found in the town of Eldoret, two hours from Kapenguria. Hopes were high and prayers were answered.
Then, in December of last year, the man who is considered to be her guardian came to Kapenguria and took her away. He had come once before, but had left at Michael's insistence that her ear had not healed yet. But by December, Grace's ear was fully healed, and somehow the man heard the news. In Pokot culture, girls and women are considered valuable by their guardians/fathers because when they marry, the groom provides a dowry to the bride's family. This dowry is usually in the form of cows, and Grace's guardian wanted that dowry. Although Grace is only about 13 years old, she is of age to marry in traditional Pokot culture. Michael and his family tried to persuade Grace's guardian to let her stay with them and go to school, but the man refused. He also wanted her to come back and work (or forage for bugs and other food) and take care of her sisters.
When I heard this news, it rocked me to my very core. I don't think I stopped crying for the next two days straight. I had so many thoughts in my head, so many emotions. How could this happen? How could this man be so selfish when this beautiful girl has been given such an amazing opportunity? What was the point of me even going to Kenya? Why would God provide Grace with a family who loves her just to have her be taken away? I went through thoughts of wanting to somehow find the money to go back to Kenya, drive to Alale, find Grace, and take her with me. Where would I bring her? I hadn't thought that out. I just wanted to protect her from the imminent arranged (aka forced) marriage and free her from the people around her who were oppressing her. And then when that passed, I just wanted to give up. I felt so hopeless, that in my darkest moments, I just wanted to crawl into a hole, forget about Daylight's mission, and protect myself from the pain of knowing what could have been. But wasn't.
Never has something challenged my faith and my heart more than this. I went through months of counseling. I was scared to call Michael and to find out if he knew how she was. I was scared to hear more bad news. I was angry at God for putting Grace through all of it.
And then I slowly realized that I didn't trust God. Sure, I trust Him when things are going well. But when life gets hard, when futures seem uncertain, and when I can not see (or control) what is happening, I turn into a big ball of anxiety, fear, and depression. And then very, very slowly, I started to take baby steps towards trust. I remembered the times in my own life where life has hit me like a ton of bricks, and He has always provided, always helped pick up my pieces. If He has done this with me, why do I think He is not doing this with Grace?
I do not mean to say that I have reconciled all of this. I am still far from feeling at peace, far from completely trusting that God will take care of her. But there are things that I have learned.
I have learned that this is not the end. Grace was part of a wonderful family for six months. This experience of love will not just leave her. She now knows that people outside of her world care deeply about her. She knows they love her. She was also exposed to education and the joy of going to school. This can have far-reaching effects on how she raises her future children, even if she never personally has the opportunity to go to school again.
I have also learned that, although Grace is personally very special to me, she is in many ways no different than the countless other children all around her who are in her exact situation. Children like Pembe, who had his foot amputated due to the severe burns he suffered during a cattle raid in the bush. He was able to start going to Daylight this past February.
Recently, I was able to call Michael and ask if he had seen Grace. He told me that every time he goes to Alale, she finds out he is coming and rushes to meet him. She is going to the makeshift church in the village and her ear is still healed. She is not married.
Although my heart breaks for Grace and her seemingly unclear future, I do know that there are many children that we can help. If anything, it has deepened my resolve for helping Daylight in its mission of bringing hope to unlikely places and to unlikely children. Please pray for Grace and for all of the other children who need a safe place to live and learn.
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