African Journal Posting 5 - Henry

Henry
In the quietness of this guest house my thoughts have gone back to the place near the beach in Mombasa.

On our way to the resort we had passed through and by the throngs of people walking every where. People were all along the way – both sides of the road. The streams of people is unending.

But in the quietness of the resort you do not see the masses. I was sitting on a wooden lounge chair when Henry came to sit with me. I introduced myself.

Henry lived a long way from the hotel. His job required that he be at the hotel 6 days a week for at least 8 hours a day. It was now 5:00 PM and most of the tourists had all gone indoors. It was just Henry and me. The rain was falling.

We talked for a long time. Henry was the second youngest of 13 children. He described his father, “He has two wives and there are many children. He is a polygamist.”. Life sounded hard for this 22 year old. He had attended school and college in Mombasa but that was all the schooling that he will get without money. He asked about Canada but it was hard to relate to him what we have.

The last tourist came to give their towels back. Henry found their towel cards and thanked them with a smile. The rain was falling harder now and I had to run.

I have thought of Henry a lot over these past four days. I had met one man 'Henry'. Where is he now? I will think of him often in days to come and wonder how he is doing. It was one of those branding moments where he is now part of me.

Today again as we rode through the streets we passed thousands upon thousands of of people with names I do not know. Some were very rich and others were some of the poorest people that I have ever seen.

In the ditch, near the road a young girl was squatting beside her little brother – giving him a bath in the 4 inch deep water created by the big rain of last night. The little naked boy was about two – maybe three. The little girl was maybe 8 years old. I didn't get a photo of them because a nice, black Mercedes car pulled up beside us and blocked the view. The driver of the car smiled at me.

This great city of Nairobi is a swirl of people with millions of Henry s and his sisters. I am overwhelmed with what I am taking in.

But there is no shortage of religious places here. Often during the day the silence of our guest house is broken by the Islamic call to prayer from a nearby Mosque. Near where we are there are many churches of all different arrays – some strong and very much present in the community – others are a small band of believers that huddle down back lanes behind iron gates with guards. Recently another pastor was car jacked and then turned loose after three hours of a nightmare.

How can one ever pray for the humanity that is around us all the time? How can God ever sort through this complicated place?

Back to Henry sitting on the wooden bench with me. Henry prays too but his job keeps him from the daily calls to prayer at his mosque.

~ Pastor Murray Lincoln ~

PS- In our guest house on the wall above the table hangs a sign that says, “A friend is one who strengthens you with prayer, Blesses you with love, and Encourages you with Hope.”