Here I am with my Kenyan son, John Maina, who inspired me to write a book about his life!
In 2019, I will launch my new book, Hope and a Future: Life, Survival and Renewal on the Streets of an African Slum, which tells the riveting story of a young Kenyan man, John Maina, who grew up in the streets of Mathare, one of Africa’s largest slums, and the relationship we’ve forged as “father and son.”
John is featured in our Women’s Journey to Kenya and travelers get a chance to listen to his remarkable story.
Here’s an excerpt from the book. In 2001, Linda and I took a humanitarian tour through East Africa. In order to visit an orphanage in Mathare, older boys from the home had to escort us. As the boys marched up the hill to meet us at an abandoned gas station, John chose to assist me.
After reading the excerpt please sign-up for our book updates and launch. Send an email to paul@globalheartjourneys.net and say “Yes!” in the subject line.
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These colorful cinderblocks shaped the protective walls that held John and so many other kids in the midst of Nairobi’s slums.
For the past ten years, John had been raised behind the secure walls that held this blessed community of abandoned children. I learned a few details about John’s life that morning. But the facts weren’t all that important, it was John’s gentle behavior and bright energy that captivated me. When we finally rejoined the others in the tour group, I saw John pick up a distressed toddler who had just fallen to his knees. You can tell a lot about a man’s spirit when he’s holding a baby. John’s touch was tender and compassionate.
John is in his element with an orphaned baby in his arms.
In such a short time, I took a liking to this young man; he had found a way into my heart. It seemed as if the day had unfolded like a movie. Those few hours I spent with John were cinematic in scope. He had walked me through the vibrancy of Mathare, every colorful sight accented by the cacophony of hawkers, motorbikes, braying animals and blaring boom boxes.
Vibrant daily life in Mathare
Just as a film director emotionally engages the audience scene by scene with thespian subtleties and evocative musical scores, John led me deeper and deeper into his life in the orphanage. But unlike a movie which only figuratively takes you by the hand, John had literally taken mine. Yet I was an unrehearsed actor unsure of where the script was taking me.
At last our visit was coming to an end. It was time to make our way back to the van. John accompanied me up the hill. I deliberately slowed our pace, so we could spend as much time together as possible. We exchanged idle chatter, each word passing the unspoken warmth of friendship.
We arrived at the vehicle. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to leave him behind. We were just getting to know each other and now it was ending just as we were getting started. I tried to make conversation, sputtering lamely: “So, John, what will you do next? What would you like to be?”
Without hesitation, John firmly responded, “I want to be a lawyer.”
How it pained me to hear those words. John had no parents and no money. He was living in an orphanage in an impoverished country in one of the most appalling slums on earth. It was wrenching to see such talent with so little hope for opportunity. I felt helpless.
It was time to board. I looked at John and before I could say anything he implored: “Please, don’t ever forget me.”
Words failed.
In the silence, I felt my heart break.
In my entire life, nothing has ever had the impact of John’s simple plea. Those several words unleashed feelings deep inside me that I didn’t realize were even there. It took me a long time for me to make sense of that instant.
One of the many forgotten children of Mathare’s streets
Here was a spirited young man whose dreams were colliding with a cruelly indifferent world. As compassion for him swelled in my heart, a frightening mystery arose in me: in life’s inscrutable lottery, how is it that this is happening to John? I quaked at the very thought of our own two sons, Lars and Nils, fending for themselves on the streets at seven years old. At that moment, standing in an abandoned gas station were juxtaposed the fragility of hope alongside fortuitous privilege. How many times have I tried to make sense of that haunting instant?
Quietly, we shook hands. We asked Linda to take a final picture of us together. Unlike a movie plot that ultimately resolves dramatic tension, as I stepped into the van, a restlessness overtook me that would linger for years. As we drove away, I glanced out the back window. I saw John standing silently, looking down.
Then traffic parted us.
Through a remarkable series of events, John and I were re-united twelve years later. This picture shows John and I together again in 2013 holding the photo Linda took of us on that glorious day in 2001 when we first met.
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To sign-up for our book updates and launch write to me at paul@globalheartjourneys.net and put “Yes!” in the subject line. Happy New Year!
