A symphony in a sanctuary

On the shores of Lake Naivasha, a symphony surrounds me.  Fluttering birds with patches of iridescent blue, yellow, rust, and black dance across the sky.  The gentle wind blows and the calm water, encircled by ancient mountains, shimmers.  The lush green grass meets the swaying bamboo whose firework-like tops glisten in the sun.  Even the dead trees house abundant life.  Peace and beauty fill this place.

Yet just outside of this haven, this natural place, sits hundreds of cinder block homes in rows, one front door not more than 15 feet from the next.  A solitary window in front lets in the only light this tiny row house receives. Under the front eeves, laundry lines hang in tight parallel lines to hold the families’ washing.  A tiny red dress hanging on one caught my eye, a stark contrast to the wall of gray.  “A baby lives there”, I thought to myself. 

A few of  the hundreds of
flower green houses in the area

These are the flower workers homes.  All day long they cultivate, water, prune, and cut fresh flowers to package and send mainly to Europe.  They earn around $100/month, $150 if they are lucky: the cost of around 4 dozen roses.  The warmth of the brilliant colors of a bouquet of roses contrasts deeply with the cool gray of their cramped homes surrounded by dirt.  

It is confusing and uncomfortable to live in a place of deep contrasts and a dual economy.  Many here earn $1/day.  What I will spend on dinner tonight for our family would be 2 months salary for them.  It is outrageous for me to think of spending 2 months of our wages on one meal. 

Millions of people work so hard every day.  It is not uncommon for most to work 10-12 hours a day, six days a week.  We have heard over and over again about the incredible resources in Kenya and its fertile soil.  Yet, corruption and greed, in the hands of a few has led to complex societal struggles.   

“I have a dream,” our driver shared with a light in his eye.  “I want to buy property and build a home where we can help children and where we can grow vegetables.”  In the last few years, he has taken under his care two children that are not his own. His wife and three children have lovingly welcomed them into their two bedroom home.  One, an orphan whose parents both died, and another whose mother could not feed her what her growing body required.  He now pays 5 children’s school fees, which are required even in public education.  He said so matter of factly, “When we go on vacation we just spend a bit less, when we eat at our table, we just share what we have.  A few more jobs driving and it covers their school fees, God always provides.”     

He is one of many in Kenya and around the world who are bringing brilliance and color to the gray.  He is planting where there is no life and watering what is struggling to survive.  I’ve wrestled for days now with my heart’s disposition toward not just giving, but doing so sacrificially.  

On the three hour drive back to Nairobi, I looked out the window and saw the faces of hundreds, if not thousands, who work tirelessly selling goods in markets or on the side of the road, who drive buses, work a tiny bit of land, or graze a handful of goats. All this just to feed their family and keep a roof over their heads.  

The scenery and the stories we’ve heard are daunting, really.  What difference does a single bouquet of roses make to the rows and rows of gray.  Kevin turned and said to our driver, “The founder of Food for the Hungry used to say, ‘They die one at a time, so we will help them one at a time.’” 

Many pods of hippos live in this stretch of the lake