A Dominican Walk Through Kenya (Part 7)

What I Do Have I Give You

“Now Peter and John were going up to the temple area for the three o’clock hour of prayer. And a man crippled from birth was carried and placed at the gate of the temple called “the Beautiful Gate” every day to beg for alms from the people who entered the temple. When he saw Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked for alms. But Peter looked intently at him, as did John, and said, “Look at us.” He paid attention to them, expecting to receive something from them. Peter said, “I have neither silver nor gold, but what I do have I give you.” Acts 3:1-6

One of the most challenging realities for me to swallow while walking through places of want here was feeling overwhelmed at the immensity of the plight of the people. Now, I can think of many instances of trying to accomplish a formidable task, like finishing a paper before the due date or striving to meet a friend in their life situation. But how can I describe the struggle of not knowing where your next meal is coming from? I related this to Peter, who aptly reminded me of the words of Mother Teresa when she said, “We cannot do great things, but small things with great love.” As I walked through the streets, I knew I did not have the ability to give a family a job for sustainable employment. In fact, let’s say that I obtained a large grant simply to hand out cash to people on the corner. Even so, I don’t think this would necessarily fix any of the structural injustices keeping people pinned in the cycle of poverty.

Now, investment in education for those young kids, joyfully darting in between shacks, was something that stuck out to me as an essential tool for changing the circumstances and quality of life. In addition, I saw how vital roads are for facilitating the transportation to provide access to food, medical care, and commerce. I could also see the pressing need for drilling wells that could provide relief from somehow trying to use the waters; not always up to standard. I acknowledged that many people are working hard every day to attain these goals of better living conditions. And so, I asked myself what I was called to do as a friar walking down these same roads?

On the way, Augustine, Peter, and I met a 12-year-old kid who came to ask us for some money. Seeing that he looked hungry, we readily bought him some cooked eggs, sausages, and juice from a local food stand. When asked the attendant at the stand to give him more food than he originally expected. “One sausage? No, two please. Asante sana.” He was happy and thankful and went on his way to rejoin the daily struggle of many of the street boys of Nairobi. (As he told me walking up to the stand, he was an orphan.) I naturally felt that we had done well to provide for his needs that afternoon. But what about dinner? How about the next day?

A few days later, another boy approached Peter and me as we were leaving the Galleria Mall. (A very nice commercial establishment that would not be out of place in an American shopping center.) The boy, probably in middle school, asked us if we would sign a sheet of paper to give contributions to a charitable organization. (I assumed to help his school.) As he handed me a pen, I reacted to his facial expression and asked, “Have you had lunch today?” “No,” he said, trying to dampen any sense of embarrassment on his part. With the afternoon sun beginning to set behind a scene of busy cars and matatus on the highway, Peter and I walked over to a food court near the mall to get him some food. Finding a table and waiting for chicken to fry, we talked about the weather, football, and our opinions on what makes a good World Cup caliber goalie. He was a goalie himself on his local team. He heartily enjoyed his chicken sandwich, fries, and other snacks, as I was grateful that we were able to talk about topics that a young kid should be concerned about. We did not have resources to feed the myriad of youth in the daily struggle of life there, but we could feed the kids whom the Lord sent us on the way. We give them bread for the day, hoping that someone else within the Body of Christ will take up the torch tomorrow to help those kids reach their potential.

Walking down the busy market streets of Nairobi on our way from visiting the National Museum, we met a man with a dirty coat and wide smile who began to follow us, making conversation on the way. Introducing himself as Daniel, he continued to walk along the road with us, limping in a way that gave a slight upbeat tempo to his steps. After sharing the fact that we were returning from the Nairobi National Museum, he indicated that we were going the wrong direction toward the matatu stop.

When he started walking the other direction with us, we were pretty confident that he was just waiting to ask us for money. Going across a bridge, he started talking about needing enough cash to purchase a Bible. (We had told him a little of our background and mission here with the Friars.) He said, “Let’s go over to the park there where you can share the word of God with me.” Still trying to get the scoop on this guy in the dirty coat that started walking with us, we found a bench by a fountain. In a part of town that is not exactly touristy, we ended up attracting a few young men asking for money. Interestingly, Daniel, himself in need of food and shelter, began shoo-ing them away unless they were serious about “wantin’ to hear de word of God.” They pestered us for a while, until they realized that he wasn’t kidding.

In God’s good providence, I happened to be carrying a small booklet with reflections by Pope Francis to go with the mysteries of the Rosary. So, we started with the Annunciation, and spent the next 45 minutes going through each of the mysteries, reading the scripture aloud, and sharing about the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. The streets were busy with honking cars, and many people were traversing the park, but we were focused. This was a special moment prepared by the grace of God.

Sure, Daniel needed food, and shelter, and all the rest. But, this was a man hungry for the word of God. “Have you been baptized?” we asked. “No.” “Well, if you feel the Holy Spirit prompting you to be baptized,” we told him, “we encourage you to find a community to help you start this journey of faith.” We prayed with him, gave him the booklet we had been using, and urged him to find the Church as his next step, trusting that God would water the seeds planted in the park on the bench there surrounded by ducks and busy matatus. So, pray for Daniel, and all those hungry for the Word of God. What we had, we gave to him. And what do we have that we have not received?

As described in the prayer attributed to Oscar Romero:

“This is what we are about. We plant seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities. We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest. We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own.”