Email: Rachel Brown

Friends,

If you do not know me personally, take my word for it: I was given many gifts by God (such as my unfailing talent for burning food) but I was not blessed with the gift of song. The fact is that I cannot carry a recognizable tune, so you can imagine my embarrassment when I was asked to sing in front of the 150 or so students who attended the Sunday morning worship service on the Icaciri Secondary School compound. The notes that came out of my lips were surely joyful, as was the laughter that ensued.

Although I still dread that moment in the service where I am inevitably asked to perform a song, I have begun to crave the student-run worship service here at my new church home. And my cravings are so strong now that when I cannot attend, I feel spiritually depleted and lost. The joyful songs, energetic dances and “Bwana asafiwes!” speak to my soul, and I am humbled by the way the students have opened their hearts, accepting me for who I am with the love of Christ.

Laughter has become a crucial part of my Young Adult Volunteer (YAV) experience. I laugh alongside the other teachers as we belt the best of Celine Dion at the tops of our lungs in the staff room, I laugh with my neighbor's son as we color bizarre and sometimes confusing non-Christmas-like pictures in my “Merry Christmas” coloring book, and I laugh with my students when I accidentally throw a “y’all” into my English lesson. Sometimes I am so desperate for effective communication that all I can do is laugh, for I know it is the one emotion that we can all understand.

Though I have begun to adjust to my life in the beautiful valley of Gatundu, I still find myself searching for God in the contexts that I am used to. And I find myself expecting God to look and feel and act the same here in Gatundu as in Nairobi or France or North Carolina. It seems that the more I search for God in those familiar places the more alone I feel, for my expectations have little meaning now that I am in a new culture. And it wasn’t until I met Kathy that I realized that God could appear in different ways.

Kathy is a rather serious 2-year-old whose little afro doesn’t quite reflect her calm, contemplative nature. The first time that I met her she gave me the cold-eyed stare down, watching my every move. There was no smile on her face, just strict observation. Our relationship went something like this for the first two weeks: I would make all kinds of gestures and silly faces, saying “Kathy, sasa?” (“How are you?”) over and over while she would blink her eyes and casually turn her head away from me in disinterest. The first time I tried to hold her hand to help her down the stairs, she took her little hand and shoved it so far down in her pocket that I was afraid it would never come out again.

The more time that I spent with Kathy, the more she began to open up to me. She started to give answers to my questions, to smile when she thought I wasn't really looking, and to say “goodnight” whenever we would part ways.

And then it happened. One day as she and her mother were leaving my apartment to go home, Kathy just turned around and said the words, “I love you!” as if she had been waiting to say them for days. She then blew me a kiss, giggled, and wobbled off down the stairs. At that moment I realized that Kathy and I had become best friends.

With Kathy’s help, I have learned that being a YAV is much less about having a job description and much more about becoming a part of the community in Gatundu. I have been called here to be a friend to everyone that I meet, sharing my faith with them and receiving the many gifts they have to share with me. I have learned that God has always been here with me, and that I didn't have to look so hard to find Him. He is here in each cup of tea that I’m offerred, in each smile that I exchange with villagers on the road to town, and in each little handshake that Kathy gives me. And those little experiences build up until I can find God in each moment of my day.

Even though Kathy and I cannot speak the same language, I can somehow understand her words well enough to know that she has genuinely invited me into her life. She is my buddy, and she has shown me that a little laughter, a silly dance, and a funny face can go a long way towards building a true relationship. The love that she shares with me is a pure reflection of the love that I have been trying to achieve my entire life, and while it might seem ironic that I have learned my biggest lessons from a 2-year-old who cannot speak English, I know that God planned this from the very beginning. After all, friends can come in all sorts of shapes and sizes!