Loving Dad

Joan Waithera Njoroge lives in Nairobi with her husband, Dan. I stayed at her house two years ago, where her mother made us chipati and peas, let us journal outside in her garden and take pictures of the monkeys in her trees ("those pests"). Joan, who joined two American women to travel to Sudan because she loved the Sudanese and wanted peace in Africa. Joan, my Kenyan sister, "Loving Dad," she always began her prayers when she prayed. Joan, a Kikuyu, married to a Masai. We talked about godly relationships, and about following Jesus. We played frisbee next to mud huts and laughed until our sides hurt.

Rhonda is in Eldoret with her husband and their baby who was born the same month as Hadassah Mae. Rhonda, an American missionary, married to a Kenyan missionary, a Luo. Rhonda, who let me bicycle with her through the shanties in Kakuma's refugee camp, who looked so small when our bush plane left her alone again in Sudan. We ate tex-mex over coals and talked about vanilla creamer in coffee. We prayed for peace in Africa.

The New York Times today reported 50 people burned alive in a Pentacostal church in Eldoret as part of the violence that erupted after last week's controversial presidential election. 50 Kikuyu, they said. One man they interviewed had the last name Njoroge, like Joan. The President elect, a Kikuyu, is suspected of corruption. The opposition, a Luo, is calling for 1 million to demonstrate in Nairobi's downtown streets.

I don't remember when my heart stopped hurting for Africa. One day I woke up and the headlines about Sudan didn't affect me the same way anymore. In grad school they call this "crisis fatigue." Maybe emotional preservation set in. I remember how I marched in front of the Colorado state capital and waved a flag for Darfur. That seems ineffective and far away now.

Today at work from my office in downtown D.C. I saw the number, 300 dead in Kenya. Kenya, the "safe" African country, falling apart at the seams. Joan, a Kikuyu, Rhonda, now part Luo.

And this time it's not sorrow I feel, like I did for Sudan, or a Christian "burden" to pray for peace. Tonight it is different. Tonight I feel afraid for my friends.

As much as anything in my life so far, the faith and fellowship of these women has shaped the woman I now am. So tonight I pray for peace in Africa. For Rhonda, for Joan.