You change when you have been out here for a while. We had a monkey come into our house last week, and while it was a thrill (and more of a thrill that he didn’t hang around, because monkeys celebrate coming into homes by pooping in them), I see them quite often and wasn’t totally shocked.

But this is the big one. I didn’t know that the Super Bowl was last weekend. What kind of American can I be if I don’t follow the Super Bowl? I’ve racked my brain, and the only conclusion a rational man can come to is this:

Somehow, I have unwittingly become a member of the communist party.

I never thought it would happen to me. A kind friend is sending me a copy, and I promise to watch it as soon as I get it just to become an American again, but it is pretty darn scary.

Some parts of Africa are exciting and good, like monkeys, and some are scary. We have had a rash of carjackings lately, and while no one has been seriously hurt, they have struck a good friend with a rangu. A rungu is a stick with a wooden knob on the end; it would hurt. The friends who were carjacked 10 days ago noticed at the end that the thugs had wooden guns, but by then it was too late.

Last weekend, Rahim, one of our dorm boys who has just recently become a Christian, ran into the kitchen to tell me that his parents had been attacked on their way up to campus. They were able to get away, but there was lots of damage to the car, and his little sister was just sobbing when I got there.

One of the saddest parts of all of this is that they caught the guys once, but within two hours, they were released from prison. Most of the people in prison in Africa are there because they can’t pay the bribe it would take to get out. It looks like they have been apprehended again, and maybe that will end the unease we all feel right now.

The saddest thing of all is that the first family they attacked does so much good for the community. He is a physical therapist, and he does clinics all over Kenya all the time. He’s not the guy you want afraid to go out; he is the only therapist that most kids in the bush will ever see.

I went to Karima this week. It is the largest school we are supporting, and one of the poorest. Because they are offering free education up to 6th grade, they have 200 more children then they are equipped to handle, and many children are sitting on the dirt floors of the crowded classrooms.

So many of the children thanked me, and I told them it wasn’t from me, it was from friends in the States. I brought some names and asked if they wanted to write some thank yous, and the headmaster told me that they didn’t have any paper for that. Next time I will bring paper, but it was another reminder of what they go through. Imagine running a school with no paper for children to write on.

I’m saving the best for last. We’ve had lots of extraordinary things happen to us since we’ve been in Africa, but this has got to go to the top of the list.

We’ve been trying to get a court date to adopt for eight months now, and we finally were assigned one. We were so thrilled to finally get a date that we didn’t even realize the significance of the date until several hours later.

Many of you know that we had a son who would have been five this year. Stephen only lived a few days, and his life and death changed us forever. He was born on March 4th.

Which is the day we go to court to adopt the babies.

When we realized what had happened, it took our breath away. March 4th has always been a tough day, but besides sad memories, it will now also hold a new beginning.

I love how God can redeem the unredeemable.

Your pal,
Steve

Some students waiting in line for food

One of the classrooms at Karima

The Cook