Deja vu
So a group heads over to Kenya with my husband to work in his microloan program in Korogocho slum. His companions are young, talented and passionate about the work.
This was me 4 years ago.
This was how the whole thing started really.
I was walking in the slums meeting recipients of the Manasseh’s Children micro finance project.
We were talking and taking photos of the women and their businesses to show donors.
Everywhere I went I heard stories of rape. It was beyond belief. Especially the grandmother stories.
So here I am in the USA, working on a global curriculum. I speak with the group in Kenya.
They can’t get away from the rape issue. It comes up everywhere they go. A woman whose entire head is scarred from an assault. She’s grateful to be alive. A grandmother assaulted, her finger broken and swollen.
They are inundated with stories – just as I was.
They are horrified – just as I was.
They haven’t said a word to me about the microloans – they just can’t believe what they are hearing and seeing.
They want to jump just as I did.
We can’t put it in perspective because there is no perspective.
I spend the day working on the curriculum. I cancel everything I possibly can so I can work on the curriculum.
Invitations come in to teach here and there, to visit this or that country. I say no and I practice what I preach. No.
I work as quickly as I can, but it will never ever be fast enough for me.