Will Wadsworth

Africa, wow. I never really planned on going to Africa. I guess Africa planned on going to me. Now that I am back home, all I can think about are the kids. They had the light that we all talk about. They had the hope that we all need to keep. They had the joy that we often want. They had all of this in an environment where I find it difficult to smile. To add to this, so many of them seemed to care for so much for others. When praying for a little girl, I asked her what she would like prayer for. Her answer was, “That you all return home safely and then to us safely again.” In the midst of what I would call pretty dire need, her prayer was for us to be cared for and to be a part of their lives. On the first day, I wondered whether or not the children that we were going to be working with would really care about our presence there. At the end of that first day, several of the kids chanted, “Tomorrow! Tomorrow! We will see you tomorrow!”

The younger children had sheer joy. The older youths were a bit more sober, yet they had a determination to out-shine the darkness that they saw all around them (sorry if that was corny). Seriously though, these youths made me either realize or remember that its not what you have that matters , its who you have. If nothing else, they had Jesus Christ and they had each other. I could see this as they danced, played soccer, ate together, and in many other ways. Two young boys that I remember were named Felix and Alex. They were a couple of young athelets with great senses of humor. When I got out of the hospital (no big deal), Alex came up to me and asked if I remembered him. I did then and I still do.

When I was in the hospital (as a result of something I ate), I believe that I saw another side of Kenya. I saw compassion in the doctors and nurses that tended to me as well as others. I was in a bed next to a retired Bishop, a government counselor, and a Scottish ex-patriot. God was in there with all of us. I felt unified for a while with the other patients. I think that this was a result of experiencing some pain together. I may have felt frustrated, a bit sad, and a little scared in that hospital, but I did not feel alone. I could sense that God was in there with each one of us. While laying in bed, I thought about the kids of Kibera and their families. This made my tiny suffering seem very pale in comparison. I think that God may have used my little hospital experience as a way to humble me and as a way to ask me to tune into the suffering of those around me.

During our final week, I met an older youth named William. He called himself “Cartoon.” He was a bit of a comedian and a smooth guitar player. This young man was standing strong and celebrating life in a place that seemed like it could threaten to knock him down rather easily. I hope that I will be able project the kind of love that people like this had in Africa as I continue in my walk with Christ.

Peace,

Will