Charis Around the World

Childbirth in Kenya
by Jannekah Guya

The Slum That Never Sleeps

The past couple of births I have attended have required me to walk through one of Kenya’s most dangerous slums in the middle of the night.  I try to reason that as long as I do my best to do my part to protect myself, God will take care of the rest.  So I wear long skirts to hide my mzungu (white person) legs, and traditional coverings to hide my arms, hair, and as much of my face as I can.

It’s risky for anyone to walk these dark, muddy, garbage strewn paths at such late (or early) hours, but in some places, being a mzungu makes me even more of a target, and this is one of them.  Just about anywhere else in Kenya, at any other time, as a mzungu I would be utterly spoiled by extravagant Kenyan hospitality and kindness.  But not here, not now.

I can always feel the fear trying to rise in me, slowly crowding out the faith as I walk briskly with my head down and with every sense on highest alert.  As a drunk man stumbles toward me I can’t help but ask myself if I’m being foolish.  Maybe I should just go home and come another time – during the day.  Is it really worth it?

The enemy tries to convince me it’s not.  An old memory of a similar situation flashes in my mind – when a drunk man with a knife once grabbed me and started dragging me into an alley before my husband and some friends came to my aide.  Who would help me now, I wonder?  I glance quickly around from under my head covering.  The only people crazy enough to be here at this time are clearly up to no good.  I feel certain that no one here would help me.  In fact, there’s probably a better chance they’d help a perpetrator than me.  I spend most of my life working with the most wonderful Kenyans, but these are the Kenyans who need Jesus the most!  I was told that even the police have been paid to stay out of the area, which I suppose is just as well seeing as they most often do more harm than good.

I decide I better stop letting my thoughts get the best of me and stay them on the Lord instead.  I imagine two giant, terrifying angels walking with me, here on orders from my mighty and loving Father.  I pray for greater courage, greater faith, and deeper love for those I am hurrying through the dark to serve.  Everyone looks out for his own interest, but not those of Jesus Christ.  (Phil 2:21)  My prayers turn to the task ahead and all who will be involved – the mother, the baby, Mama Christine, and me.

When I reach Mama Christine’s building I quickly duck inside the gate.  It’s 3 a.m. and I am greeted by all the women who are lining up to fill their buckets with precious water.  They haven’t had water here for 4 days and there’s a feeling of jubilation in the air.  No one is complaining they had to wake up so early to lug water up flights of stairs.  They’re just so thankful to have it. I myself jog up the stairs, up to Mama Christine’s on the 4th floor.

After knocking gently I enter the warm room greeted by Mama Christine’s warm smile.  The laboring mother is having a contraction and she grabs my skirt and clings to me until it passes.  I think birth must be the only human experience in life that can bring two complete strangers so intimately close in an instant.  What a beautiful honor.  It is worth it.

My hands are the very first to touch the tiny miracle as I usher a precious baby boy into the world that morning.  What right do I have to be the first to hold and cuddle this little gift that someone else has worked so hard for?!  His mama is so happy, she can’t stop thanking God.  It is worth it.

An hour and a half later as we walk Mommy and Baby home and up 4 flights of stairs to reach their one-room house, I can’t help but chuckle out loud as I think of how different things are here – how different the women are.  I think of the way millions of American women are wheeled out of hospitals in wheel chairs after often unnecessarily long hospital stays.  But then I feel sad as I realize the kind of message that alone sends to women – that they are weak, frail, and fragile and that birth is traumatizing and debilitating.  I wonder if that lie would be silenced forever if they could see this strong, vibrant, beautiful Kenyan mother.  (Not that I recommend climbing down and up 8 flights of stairs an hour and a half postpartum!)

As we continue to climb, I look down at the brand-new baby in my arms and am awestruck.  According to the things we are taught our whole lives growing up the U.S., his chances of survival should be about one in a million!  But somehow, millions of babies do survive here!  A phenomenon that can only be explained by the mercy and grace of God. I look around at all the filth – the rotting garbage, the rats, the cockroaches, and many unmentionable things, and I think that God must feel so heartbroken to see His precious children living like this.  I wonder, if they knew they were His, if they knew they were sons and daughters of a good and loving King, princes and princesses, would they really settle for this?  Never.  And then how many more babies would live, and have life in abundance?!


2 Peter 1:5-8 says we should make every effort to add to our faith, goodness, knowledge, self-control, persistence, Godliness, brotherly kindness, and love in increasing measure so that we will be effective and productive.  If those aren’t qualities midwives in Kenya and in every part of the world must have, I don’t know what are!  I believe all of our hearts desire to be effective and productive in our knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ and in this call He has given us.  May you be all the more eager to make your calling and election sure, for if you do these things you will never fall.  (2 Pe 1:10)  It is so worth it.

Jannekah

Martin and Jannekah Guya with their son, Ezriel and his big sister, Amariah

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