Sunday dawned gorgeous and loud, with something between an orchestra and cacophony of birds outside my window (Studying for the GRE, who me?). Pink sunlight filtered through the acacia trees and bougainvillea bushes surrounding my rondavel, and I was instantaneously awake. With time for a quick walk before breakfast, I grabbed my water bottle and headed toward the vegetable garden. At breakfast, bright-eyed Mercy plopped herself next to me and offered me a tour of Daraja Academy. She took me back through the vegetable garden, pointing out kale, tomatoes, beets, onion, strawberry, zucchini and the pumpkin leaves we had eaten with dinner last night. She showed me the classrooms, explaining that chemistry and English were her favorite subjects, although she struggles most with English. We talked a bit about the Outside The Lens project, and how she was going to get to work on her English while learning photography, and as a member of the Media Club, Mercy will get to do an extra project with me. She was stoked.
On Sunday mornings, Daraja students are given two hours for spiritual study. Some girls are Catholic, some are Protestant, some are Muslim, and some are none of the above. Spiritual study isn’t led by any of the instructors, so girls gather in one of the classrooms and run their own services- which I immediately liked. Leadership, initiative, self-determination—this is what Daraja is about. Mercy invited me to her classroom, and honored, I followed. Clear, beautiful voices led in call-and-response singing in both English and Swahili. Not a regular church-goer myself, I was nonetheless moved to tears on a number of occasions. The order of the service was written on a chalkboard on one wall, next to it the exhortation “Plz sing as if u will never sing again.” I did. As girls took their turn to share, they each opened with “Praise God,” “Amen.” Praise God again,” Amen.” They gave thanks for their lives, for the opportunity to learn, to think, and to breathe. They gave thanks for the volunteers at Daraja, which again humbled me to tears. One girl gave a brief reading, followed by an extemporaneous little sermon about being a son of God. “In grammar class, we learn that he and his refers to boys. This morning, I am here to tell you that he and his means us girls too; when the Bible says ‘blessed is he…’ they mean us too, and we are to live our lives as a thanks for those blessings.” Wow. I may be out on safari next Sunday, but I have one more Sunday before I return to California, and no matter which classroom I wander into, I know I will be blessed.
That is so cool. There is not another person in the entire word that should be there doing what you are doing with and for those girls!
ReplyDelete