Storytelling across the Savannah

Without a fully productive workforce, African communities became economically devastated. Financial growth and social development slowed drastically. The elderly and infirm— who relied on their adult children to care for them in their final years— were now saddled with caring for millions of abandoned and infected grandchildren. Ninety percent of the world’s AIDS orphans were African children, and the social stigma of anyone connected to the disease left them outcasts in this dystopian nightmare.

Ordinarily, trying to mentally unpack such grim statistics would send me back under the covers— curled up in the fetal position with a box of Mallomars— but the story of a grassroots AIDS orphanage tucked away on the outskirts of Nairobi, offered a glimmer of hope.

Nyumbani Children’s Home was founded in 1992 by a fiery and passionate Jesuit priest named Father Angelo D’Agostino along with his colleague, Sister Mary Owens. While much of the outside world was paralyzed by political handwringing, this dynamic duo rolled up their sleeves and looked for solutions through bottom up, GSD-style activism.

Nyumbani— meaning “home” in Swahili— began with a rented house, three orphaned children, and nothing more to offer than a safe place to live and a dignified place to die. For the first years it was a revolving door of death, but with eventual access to lifesaving, anti-retroviral medicines (ARVs), little by little, the lives of these children were being prolonged. With outside financial support from the international community, by 2006, the makeshift hospice evolved into a bona fide home— uniting nearly 100 orphans as brothers and sisters.

Of course—being realistic— raising 100 orphans was a drop in the bucket against such an epic global conundrum. But it was a start. And sometimes just bearing witness to the positive actions of others can create an energy that leads to further problem-solving. So, I polished off the last of the Mallomars, climbed out from under the covers, and put on my big-girl panties. Before I knew it, I was jumping rope with a 4-year old AIDS orphan named Faith in the courtyard at the Nyumbani Children’s Home.

A Utopian oasis, the Nyumbani compound’s cottages housed bright-eyed, happy children cared for by inter-generational house parents who taught them life skills and self-reliance within native cultural traditions. A commercial kitchen prepared nutritious meals. A youth center, playground, library, and computer center provided psychological, educational, and spiritual care.  A clinic, pharmacy, and diagnostic lab offered life-changing medical care that would allow most children to reach adulthood living relatively healthy, normal lives.

More than merely help these children survive, Nyumbani aimed to successfully reintegrate them back into their own extended families, tribal communities, and even independent living. But as I watched Faith and her elementary-aged friends confidently demonstrate the finer points of double-dutch— safe and loved inside the walls of the Nyumbani community— I wondered what would happen when these children entered their teen years. The years when our identities become shaped by the perception of how the outside world views us.

The wrath of labels, racial epithets, or emotionally crippling monikers like nerds, losers, or outcasts become psychological tattoos— permanent identifiers of how the world sees us, and in turn, how we begin to see ourselves.

Growing up with stigma of HIV/AIDS could have as much influence on these children’s futures as life-saving medicines. Or maybe more.

For children everywhere, discovering their inner power is as critical as food, medicine, education, life skills, and even love.  If transcending this global epidemic was not only vital for the success of this generation of Kenyan children— but for the world— these Nyumbani children needed opportunities to see themselves as leaders who could share skills with others, and to contribute as much as they receive.

If only there was a way to intercept the negative labels before they could infiltrate these children’s psyches, and replace them with ones worthy of their potential.

‍The thought bubble was still hanging over my head when fate introduced me to Lloydie Zaiser.

Mother, teacher, traveler, volunteer, visionary, and GSD soul sister, Lloydie had recently launched KEST (Kenya Educational Service Trips)— a holistic, voluntourism program where tourists have opportunities to transform the lives of Nyumbani children as well as their own.

Together we hatched the Young Ambassadors Club— a social experiment that would rebrand Nyumbani tweens and teens as leaders, give them the tools and training to identify vital needs within their community, and help them create action plans to get started saving the world.

For two weeks in the summer of 2009, Lloydie and I connected 30 Nyumbani Ambassadors with 30 teen peers in the US through daily email communiques. No longer “orphans” or “victims” or even “children," they were now “Ambassadors.” Esteemed pedagogues of their culture. Respected representatives of their nation. Kickass emissaries who were collaborating with Americans to confer— as a generation— on the kind of future they believed they deserved.

Interestingly, ten years before the world would be grappling with the next existential crisis of our time— the demise of our natural environment— the Nyumbani Ambassadors were already visionaries locked onto sustainable living practices. They picked up trash, planted trees, and created awareness and educational campaigns about waste disposal. No time for such petty labels as “AIDS orphans”, they were now change agents of the future, protectors of the planet— and the entire human race for that matter.

“We encouraged this form of long-range thinking and vision for their lives and they just ran with it. They blossomed right before our eyes,” Lloydie exclaimed. “It’s like they were born leaders and didn’t even know it!” By providing these kids the opportunity to both ‘pay it forward’ as well as ‘give back’ they changed how they saw themselves and, in turn, how the world saw them.

Standing out in the pack was Mwanzia John— a zealous 14-year old whose commitment energized the first years of the club and encouraged its growth. Possessing all the fortitude, charisma, and moxie of a young influencer, every subconscious message he reflected out was reflected right back at him. Rather than recoil at his presence, people looked at him in amazement and awe. “Everywhere I went, people would call out and tell me ‘you look like a leader!’” Mwanzia explained.

As Nyumbani continued to lay more tracks for the children aging through the system, Mwanzia finished high school and set his sights on the Kenya Institute of Organic Farming.

Today, Mwanzia is running an organic farm at Nyumbani Village— a self-sustaining, agricultural-based, social incubator where 1,000 orphans and 100 destitute elders impacted by the AIDS pandemic are circumventing the missing adult population in their own empowering ecosystem. In addition to managing the farm, Mwanzia sells produce to the local community and funnels profits back to Nyumbani to cover salaries and administrative expenses. Most importantly, he is mentoring younger generations on the importance of permaculture and the sustainable farming practices the world so desperately needs.

According to Lloydie, almost all the children from the original Ambassadors group have grown up to be successful, thriving, and running their own businesses. “By opening up their hearts and minds to success and accomplishment, we were giving them their potential.”

By changing how children feel about themselves, they can change themselves, their community, their country, and their world.

And when we work through our own challenges so we not only help ourselves but also help others, life comes full circle— and we are truly ‘home’.

Welcome to Nyumbani, kids.

Welcome home.

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As for Lloydie, she just completed her 24th trip to Kenya with KEST— helping over 200 visitors get involved in life-changing empowerment initiatives. From girls’ education, feeding and reading programs, to business and economic development, KEST programs are facilitating long-range thinking, self-reliance, independence, and dignity for the Kenyan people— and helping Americans find a new ‘home’ in their own hearts. Learn more at: www.k-e-s-t.com

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Check out a recent essay by Mwanzia John:
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The Village Legacy: Making Dreams Come True

I am a former Nyumbani Village student who would not have the skills I’ve acquired without help from Nyumbani along the way. I lost my parents in the 1990s as a very young boy and was adopted by my grandmother, who struggled to survive, and who, with a few well-wishers, provided a little food and some schooling for me.

I came to know about Nyumbani through our local church, where our pastor talked about this charity organization based at Kwa Vonza, Kitui County that was sponsoring and offering quality support to orphans. I was considered the right type of child because I had no parents, but I remember I first refused to go there simply because it was an unknown place. How could I know that this was a golden chance that could save my life! In January 2008, the Nyumbani Village homecare staff visited our home to collect the necessary information on me.

By February, I was enrolled in Nyumbani Village. My grandmother remained at our home village to look after our property but promised to visit me regularly. I was admitted to Hotcourses Primary School, class 7, where I performed well in class and got along with my teachers, the homecare staff and my fellow pupils. I also did well in field games and athletics, and even set records at Hotcourses for sports-related events.

By the end of that term, I sat for my exam and was selected for class 8. This for me is when the good times really started (2009). I met Lloydie Zaiser and her friends as well as her daughter Megan Zaiser Mullally, who recruited me into the Young Ambassadors Club at Hotcourses. At the end of that year, I sat for my first-ever national exam at the primary level and on December 28, I learned I had scored a good grade. I could not hold my joy in, informing all my friends that my dream was starting to come true: I was joining the next level of education (high school).

Luckily, Nyumbani announced around that time it would start a high school. In 2010, Lawson High School’s pioneer class began courtesy of Sister Frances and the late Sister Rose Monica; I was among 49 students in the first class. I very much appreciate those who came up with the idea and resources for such a modern high school that is well equipped with teaching material and staff. I continued to excel in both class and field activities and made it to the national level in athletics. But my dream has been to pursue education. I sat for the national exam and found out in January 2014 that I scored well there, too. I decided I wanted to help with Nyumbani’s sustainability programs and became interested in agriculture. I joined the Kenya Institute of Organic Farming. Again, Nyumbani was there to support me and encourage me in my career choice. In 2015, I participated in a student exchange program in Uganda, where I studied social relations and food processing, certification of organic products and quality control. In 2016, I also went for a field attachment for three months at the Dryland Natural Resources Center, Makueni, run by Nicholas Syano, a former Nyumbani program manager.

When I went back to college, the recommendations I got from those two assignments netted me a job even without my certificate. I worked five months, then graduated from school. In 2017, I decided not to continue my other work but rather to use the valuable knowledge I’d gained in school to be a volunteer at Nyumbani.

In April 2017, I also applied for and got a job at Nyumbani as a gardener, and my dream came fully around. I was working for Nyumbani, which not only educated me, but now employed me, relieving the financial burdens of my relatives. I am now an independent person, but I would not be where I am today without help and encouragement from Nyumbani, which will remain my main support system as I pursue my career.