Set for Failure

  Since my last post I have spent time all over the city. A week ago Sunday, I was invited to eat lunch with a lady from church at her home in Kibera. Her two sons and nephew were there, as well as another girl from church. After the service we walked to the mutatu pick up, road just outside Kibera and then walked to her place from there. Having heard about Kibera, the largest one story slum in the world, from different friends I was a little nervous. In my mind I saw much of what I had seen the week before. Filth. Poverty deeper than what my mind could comprehend. It's hard for me to describe the walk into Kibera because on the one hand the street was pretty clean with very few of the typical potholes. The shops on the side of the road were well kept and TINY amounts of space; there was just enough room for the owner to sit underneath the roof of the shop and have his goods and produce laid in front of him. The vendors spaces were often really dark, one after the other after the other after the other. As we walked through the streets I tried to mimic what my hostess was doing because I didn't want to stick out too much (which is a bit ridiculous since I and the other girl were the only white people we saw our entire time there). As we veered off the main road, we walked onto solidly packed burnt orange dirt paths. The space between buildings was small and it was hard to figure out when building stopped and the next started. The buildings were made of cemented mud, aluminum or tin sheets with wooden poles for support. The smell of burning coal was in the air and small children were looking at us with interest. We entered a metal door into what seemed to be a hallway. The son took out keys and began to unlock a padlock. He opened the wooden door and pulled a curtain aside. We were welcomed in. The room was dark with a single window, high near the ceiling, on the wall opposite the door. There was a tv, a bed, a sofa, at least 5 chairs, a couple stools and table all set inside the 10x10 room. The lady went through the room and through another door that was where she cooked our meal. While she was cooking, the rest of us sat down, poured some sprite or crest, and chatted. After my eyes adjusted I realized the walls and ceilings were covered with what appeared to be bed sheets with pictures and various decorations hanging as well. Through the sheets in one spot I could see the wooden frame and mud walls plastered with newspaper. At some point the tv was turned on and was changed to a music station on which artists like Fergie were performing. We also watched the news some. After some time, the meal was served-cabbage and chapati!!!, and we talked some more.
  One realization I took away from my time with this generous family: I have always had options. I have never felt helpless to know where to go next. Even when I think about not being able to find a job, I know that I will always have someone I could go to for help. I have choices, and I am empowered and confident to go after them.
  I got to spend some time with a friend from college who's family are on my team. It was so good to catch up. Hear about familiar people, and realize how glad I am to be done with college. The next day I spent some more time back in the clinic and was glad to work alongside the receptionist in trying to figure out the computer system. The day flew by as we worked together.
  I think it was Thursday when I went with the nurse running the clinic to the largest public hospital here to visit a very sick friend of hers. She told me some of what to expect of the hospital as we parked and walked in. There were people EVERYWHERE. The way the hospital worked, as far as I could see, was the patient was brought in and given a bed. The family or friends were in charge of rolling you to an examination room, treatment room or a type of holding room. We walked to Holding Room 6. The room was packed with people- patients, nurses, doctors, friends and family members of all the patients. We found the friend on oxygen and unconscious. Her oldest daughter (18) was there with her. They had been at the hospital since 2 AM and had not really been cared for. The daughter looked exhausted and worried. At some point it was realized that the lady was not doing well, she was taking quick, shallow breaths, her eyes dilated and her left side unresponsive. After a couple hours of the same presentation, the prognosis was not good. Two of the ladies friends came. The lady was finally taken back for a CT scan, but the daughter and friends had already started to grieve. I left overwhelmed, with my teammate, the nurse. I was overwhelmed. I was so sad for the daughter who was having to grow up very fast. At some point she asked me what was she supposed to do about her youngest sibling who wasn't even a year old. I had no answer. The nurses and doctors were overworked, under-resourced, overwhelmed, and underpaid. It is no wonder that most of them seem hardened and uncaring: it's hard to care when the odds of providing efficient care are so stacked against you. The deck is set for failure.
  My heart if tense because I want to FIX what I see. I see a system that needs changes to make it more efficient, but that isn't why I'm here and a whole organization couldn't fix all of the brokenness. So these two songs are my theme songs for now. I can't save the world. I can't even save myself from my sin.

Did Not Save The World- Allen Levi

Old Rugged Cross- Chris Rice