Tag: Paul Omondi

Life as a Sponsored Child (Part II)

From yesterday’s post:

I was among the first lucky ones to get a sponsor, and when I did I had a new family — the Pendleton Browns from Atlanta, Georgia.

Every Saturday I attended the Compassion Saturday program. When I was first enrolled I knew for sure the weekly meetings would interfere with my soccer time, which was also on Saturdays. But when sports were introduced I became comfortable with the idea of attending.

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As a kid, I often played at the dumping site and scavenged for edibles that the various companies and airlines disposed of at the site. My friends and I named the dumping site “Chombo.” Chombo is a Swahili word meaning machine.

We named the dump “Chombo” because we found biscuits disposed of by factories that the machine did not cut into the correct shape. Most boys ended up not going to school, but found a home in “Chombo.”

Not many kids made it to high school in my neighborhood, basically because of two reasons; one, to make it to high school, there is a national exam that one has to take. Passing this exam is not easy as such, and if one never makes it in the exam, then there is no place for him or her in high school.

Another reason is that, even if some make it in the exam, they fail to join high school because they cannot afford the school fees.

I thank God for Compassion because it ensured that my school fees were paid for in high school. My sponsor family also encouraged and believed in me, hence I did so well in my exams and joined a government high school.

Some of the kids I grew up with did not get the opportunity to join high school. Most boys went into drug addiction and to nurse their drug addiction, they turned to crime.

Ladies turned to prostitution, and most of them had babies as early as 14 years old.

I saw more than 15 boys I grew up with either being shot down by the police or being stoned to death by mob justice. The community was just fed up with crime and took the law into its own hands.

An event that turned my life is when I saw one of the young men I grew up with and even shared classes with being chased down the streets. Later, the crowd caught up with him, stoned him to death, and set his body ablaze.

I later learned that this young man had stolen an electronic gadget worth maybe less than $100. It saddened me seeing my friend die in the hands of an angry mob.

For a long time I blamed myself for not sharing my faith with him. I resolved to join an evangelism and discipleship class in church popularly known as Campus Crusade for Christ. Here I had opportunity to learn how to share my faith and I saw my friends come to Christ, though some rejected.

By the time I had completed high school, I did not know what the next step would be for me, because in Kenya at the age of 18 years I was due for graduation from the Compassion program and that was it.

For sure, high school education alone could not help me achieve my dreams. I became sad. I really had the desire to proceed with my education, but I knew without the help of Compassion I was not going to make it.

One thing surprised me, though; I did well again in my Kenya Certificate of Secondary Education exams. I became a role model in my community, and I often had parents send their kids to me to talk to them.

I had an interest in teaching kids in church; I found it fun singing with 8- and 9-year-olds and teaching them Bible stories. I also continued sharing my faith in the neighborhood through door-to-door evangelism.

Life as a Sponsored Child

From yesterday’s post:

Compassion staff decided to extend grace and enroll ages 4 to 12 years.

That was the moment I knew I was now completely netted. I could see my mother smiling broadly after the pronouncement. She had her fingers crossed all this time.

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I was among the first lucky ones to get a sponsor, and when I did I had a new family — the Pendleton Browns from Atlanta, Georgia. I became a big brother.

They had two sons: Eliakim, who was 5 at the time, and Ace, who was 4. Later my sister, Hossanah Joy Brown, was born.

I remember going to school with the family photo they had sent me, and when I showed it to my friends, they asked me, “Who are those?”

I answered them with so much joy — “My family in Atlanta!”

One of the kids gave me a mean look, then replied, “Hmm … they’re white and you’re black.”

Sure enough, it did not matter to me what color they were or what color I was not. All I knew is that I had found a family. I cherished every single letter they wrote me.

Every Saturday I attended the Compassion Saturday program. When I was first enrolled I knew for sure the weekly meetings would interfere with my soccer time, which was also on Saturdays. But when sports were introduced I became comfortable with the idea of attending.

I looked forward to receiving a letter or photo from my family, and if I did not get one, I went home unhappy thinking that maybe I did not do a good job in replying to their last letter.

Compassion took care of my educational needs by buying school uniforms, books, clothes and other necessities. This played a big role in restoring my self-image because I used to go to school in a torn pair of shorts that had patches all over and some of my classmates made fun of me.

Medical care was also provided by Compassion, which played a great role in ensuring that we had access to better medical facilities.

Health screenings at the child development center ensured monitoring of health conditions and those cases were referred to the medical facility before it was too late.

Spiritual development through the Saturday devotion program and Bible study at the child development center facilitated my decision to receive Christ as my personal Savior at the age of 15 when I was in high school.

I became an active Bible Study leader and during Compassion Sunday, I got a couple of opportunities to preach and share my testimony before the congregation in church.

During the vacation, the child development center organized camps, hikes and game park tours. My social life was now active through exposure from various activities offered by the center.

Life skills training also became an integral part of life at the child development center. I learned soon how to cook, weave and how to operate computer applications.

How I Came to Compassion

I believe all children growing up, regardless of which corner of the world they were born into, will always have a dream of what they want to be when they grow up. Some live their dream well; others are not lucky enough to live their dreams.

As a child, I held onto my dream despite the glaring poverty that threatened to kill it. I dreamed I would be some sort of a great leader when I grew up. My parents always reminded me that it would be important to work hard in school and trust in God in order for my dreams to come true.

Childhood memories are still fresh in my mind. I grew up in a neighborhood of 10′ x 10′ shelters made out of sticks, mud walls and iron sheet roofs.

My father volunteered as a church planter in the slums while my mother made and sold African attire known as ‘Kitenge’ in a small market nearby.

I watched one of my sisters die at age 3. I was only about 4 years old then.

Many children die before the age of 5 in my community. Perhaps that explains why most parents have many children — they have to take chances because they aren’t sure which ones will make it.

I am one of five siblings that survived. My eldest sister is 32 years old and I am the second oldest. I have a younger sister who is 25 and a brother who is 24. My youngest sister is 19.

Infrastructure is a great challenge in my community. There are no nearby hospitals or schools, so we remained isolated from the rest of the world.

Without medical coverage, a hospital visit in the neighboring town reaps hefty hospital bills. It is particularly hard for parents who cannot find employment.

As a result, many parents avoid taking their children to hospital for fear of being detained in hospital if they can’t afford the fees.

Only in serious cases is anyone taken to hospital and, even then, transportation is a challenge. Some of them never make it in time and die on their way.

Bitter herbs are common for most illnesses, and as a kid I dreaded saying I was sick because it was hard to stomach the bitter herbs going down my throat.

Sanitation was and still remains a great challenge in Kibera.

Residents answer the call of nature in buckets in the comfort of their small houses and pack the waste in plastic bags, which they throw out of their windows at night. This practice led to the rise of a new term — “the flying toilets of Kibera.” Curfew hours begin at 8 p.m. in Kibera, and puu-puu begins flying through the windows.

My father believed that the reason he was living in abject poverty is because he never had the privilege of completing his high school education. He resolved to give his children good educations if he could.

My family eventually moved from Kibera to Dandora, about half an hour east of the city of Nairobi.

Dandora is known for being the largest dumping site in Kenya, where crime and all sorts of evil reigns. Dad relocated the family to Dandora because the government was setting up public schools there and he wanted us to be in a neighborhood with public schools.

When we moved to Dandora, I started schooling immediately. My dad, together with five other families, founded Dandora Baptist Church. (more…)

Can Anything Good Come Out of a Slum?

My biggest fear in life is not reaching my God-given potential. And for the first 20 years of my life, I found myself being increasingly shaped by worldly values. That is, until I came face to face with Jesus!

Since then my Creator and Saviour has been helping me to weed out values that are contrary to those of the Kingdom and walking with me towards the dreams He’s planted in my heart. It’s been a step-by-step process of learning to be faithful with what He entrusts me with.

Of course, going against the patterns of this world isn’t easy, but the fruit of obedience is liberating! I wouldn’t want to live any other way. Life’s exhilarating when you’re dancing with a God of the supernatural.

Thanks to modern technology, I met a Compassion alumnus Paul Omondi through Facebook! Paul shared his testimony with me … It’s more than encouraged me to be all that I can be; it’s given me hope.

Paul completed the Leadership Development Program in Kenya years ago (a program that educates, trains and disciples servant leaders), was recently married (congratulations Paul!), and now works to help his fellow Kenyans escape the cycle of poverty in his role as a Community Development Manager.

But every achievement starts with a heart that dares to dream.

Twenty nine years ago in Kibera, 15 minutes outside of Nairobi, Kenya, a baby boy was born. Kibera is the biggest slum in Kenya. I can’t imagine what would’ve become of me if I was born there.

I’m reminded of the words of Nathanael when Philip told him that he had found ‘the one’ that Moses and the prophets wrote about. He said,

“Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?” — John 1:46a (NIV)

Can anything good come out of a slum?

Tune in all next week as Paul tells his story.

– Irene