kimberly*klein

One of the things I’m learning in Kenya is that too much content to write about can be as detrimental to my writing process as too little. It’s not that I haven’t had anything to write about, I think rather it is that I have had too much. I was journaling the other night about having so many thoughts and words jumbled up inside and being unable to get them out. I wrote, “How do I get them out when I don’t even understand them? They don’t make sense to me. Or I don’t know how to make sense of them.”

I think that’s the real problem. I am having trouble making sense out of so many things I see and experience in Kenya. And so I have an even more difficult time trying to share about them. Keeping them inside doesn’t make them go away, however. So here goes nothing…

It’s been a interesting week for me, probably the most difficult week emotionally I have had in Kenya. Most of it has really sucked, actually. But I’ve realized several very important things in the process.

Realization Number One: For me to process effectively emotionally, I need to have the freedom to cry, especially the freedom to cry around other people. I can’t do that in Kenya. I have been told that crying is rare for Africans, except in extreme circumstances. So if I cry, people tend to get worried that something is really wrong. If you know me (at all, really), you will realize this is not true for me. A big part of my coming to accept the spiritual gift of mercy in my life was my learning to be ok with showing emotion (frequently) around other people. It’s part of who I am, it’s part of the way I process. And I can tell you that crying alone in my room is simply not the same (and frankly, feels a bit pathetic). It is very lonely to cry alone.

It’s made me wonder, however, if there are people even here in Africa, who feel similarly stifled by cultural norms that tell them it isn’t ok to be free with their tears (perhaps as there are also men who feel the same way in the US).

I also need to process out loud, in conversation with other people, particularly people to know me deeply. I need people to bounce ideas and thoughts off of, people who can help me know if I’m on the right track or completely in left field. Maybe this is why the Bible speaks about the importance of community. Maybe this is why Jesus sent out the disciples two by two. I have never so deeply appreciated and understood the community I was a part of for the last two and a half years until I have been absent not only from it, but largely from community in general.

Realization Number Two: I give and receive love through physical touch. It’s really important for me. Especially hugs. I miss hugs. While Kenyan culture is physical in that you shake hands about a million times a day, the closest thing I get to a real hug here is the “pull the hand in to kiss the air on the sides of a person’s cheeks” bit, mostly from sweet older ladies. And trust me, it’s not the same.

Several nights ago I was just so overwhelmed with loneliness. I went to bed early, pulled out a box of notes from family and friends that my Mom had given me (with instructions to read when I had reached the “end of my rope”), and proceeded to have a very long, snotty, crying session. Don’t get me wrong, I know that God is here with me. I wasn’t doubting that. But I so desperately longed to have someone hold me so I would know I wasn’t alone. I have yet to experience that kind of physicality from God.

While talking it through with my mom over chat the next day, she asked me if maybe God was allowing me to go through such a lonely experience so I could know what so many others go through on a regular basis. Maybe even so I could experience a small part of what these orphans go through. Then she told me, “Kim, today I will be praying that you will actually feel our Lords arms around you. I will also pray that you can be his arms around someone else too- even if you can’t touch them.” Woah. Hello, wise Mama.

I think of Coletta’s children, of my friends Cliff and Tony and Beatrice and so many others I have met. Are there nights that they simply long for someone to hold them tight and whisper words of love and encouragement to them? Are there nights where they cry alone in their beds because there is no other acceptable way to let out their emotions? I am thinking probably so. Again, because of the cultural norms, I’m not sure how much at this point I can actually hug and hold those kids. But like my mom, I’m praying that God will give me the opportunities to be His arms around others, whether I can actually touch them or not.

I read a quote today by Mother Teresa that said this,

“Christ has no body on earth but yours,
no hands but yours,
no feet but yours.
Yours are the eyes through which
Christ’s compassions for the world is to look out;
yours are the feet with which He is to go about doing good;
and yours are the hands with which He is to bless us now.”

I’m praying that God will use the experiences I am having here to teach me how better to be His body, His hands, His feet, His eyes.

Realization Number Three: I’m tired of being white in Kenya. That might sound a bit silly and I’ll admit that I wrote it, re-read it and then smiled. But it’s true. I had a super frustrating experience in which I found I tend to be regarded in one of two ways in Kenya: either they are interested in me because of the perceived money I represent, or because of the posterity involved with having contact with a mzungu. Both are equally tiring. It is exhausting to constantly be asked for money from people on the street, and it’s just as hard to know when I walk into a school or organization, that instantly hopes are raised that I might be able to help them financially. Shoving money at people is not the answer to the problems in Africa, I’m convinced of that. And of all the things I have to offer, honestly, money is nowhere close to the top of the list. But often it feels like that is the only thing people want from me, the only thing they think I have to give.

I have also discovered that I have zero desire to ever attain celebrity status, for any reason. With a few exceptions, it feels like everyone wants (and feels entitled to) a piece of me, but only because of what I’m famous for (which in this case is something as crazy as skin color and/or nationality). I’m not even doing anything to deserve such a status. So rarely do I feel like I am regarded as a person whose worth is in their character and in their heart. I feel like people just want whatever it is I can give them, whether it be something tangible, like money or a photo, or the notoriety of having shaken their hand or being waved at or something. I can’t go anywhere or do anything without being stared at, yelled at or persistently talked to or about. I feel like what I really desire, to have deep relationships and to meet physical needs hand-in-hand with spiritual needs gets lost in the outside trappings of my mzungu status.

Again I was able to talk through some of this while chatting with my parents this morning. This time it was my dad who said something deeply profound and unbelievably applicable to my thoughts on the subject. He said, “Remember, Jesus felt people tugging on his sleeves all the time and just wanting him to perform miracles or meet their need without His true message….one of the things He did was get away and pray and keep His eyes on His main goal.” Daaang. Hello, wise Daddy.

What a comfort it is to realize that Jesus was jostled and harassed and asked time after time only for the outside, physical things. So often the people around Him didn’t care (or cared less) about the real reason He came, about His message. Often they just wanted Him for what they could get from Him, food, answers, healing, etc. I am so grateful to realize (yet again) that nothing I walk through in my life is foreign to Him. As I am reminded in Hebrews 4:14-16, “Therefore since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are–yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.”

There are indeed times when Jesus had to get away, to be alone. But He always came back. He knew the crowds would still be there, He knew what they were asking (even demanding) from Him. For sure, there were probably a countless number who came only for what He could give them and then left. But Jesus didn’t let that distract Him from the ones who did indeed hear His true message, who had seen who He was and wanted desperately to know Him more. It says in Matthew 9:36, “When He saw the crowds, He had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.”

The focus here isn’t that Jesus was harassed by the crowds, but rather that He saw past the surface to see their deepest needs, He saw their own helplessness. He felt compassion for them.

If I am to call myself a follower of Christ, I don’t think I can react any differently. In Kenya, I have perhaps the greatest scope of influence I have had in my life to date, as far as the sheer number of people who desire to interact with me, to converse with me, to be friends with me. I think it’s simply selfishness that says, “But it bothers me, but I am tired of all the people, but I feel used, but, but, but…” I am praying that I would learn to have a heart like Jesus, one that sees not just the crowd but a group of individuals, each with inherent value and worth and treats them accordingly.

Realization Number Four: I don’t learn well theoretically (unfortunately). I think I only really learn experientially. At least the kind of learning that sticks with me. As hard as this journey has been for me at times, I don’t take for granted what God is teaching me and the new aspects of His character I am seeing revealed. I think all of the tears, the loneliness, the frustrations, the heartache…they’re worth it because of what God is doing in my life in and through them [she admits, rather begrudgingly].

[Realization Number Five: My parents are amazing! And very wise. (ok, so it's not the first time I've realized that, but I was reminded, so I figured it was important to add).]