Nairobi -- City of Contrasts

Streams of pedestrians hurry along the sides of the roads, darting across traffic lanes like ants racing across the landscape, seemingly oblivious to cars and trucks -- nicely dressed businessmen and women, laborers, small school children holding hands as they dash, beggars, mothers with babies tied on their backs.










A city of contrasts -- new construction of multi-story apartments/condos being built on one side of the street with open market/shanties or slums on the other; beautiful green trees and bright colored flowers growing with vivid beauty against a cold, cement block, rusty metal-roofed building; electrical and telephone wires hanging loose and exposed giving the appearance of a huge black widow's spider web; a modern shopping mall just blocks from one of the largest slums in the world; and everything surrounded by barbed wire, iron gates, with bars on windows and doors -- a city imprisoned from itself.

Though profoundly struck by these contrasts, I was even further struck that these contrasts continued all along the road to Kijabe, about an hour's drive north/northwest. Though there's a four-lane highway most of the way to Kijabe, it's also a free-for-all road. I think there are only two rules of the road: don't hit anyone and don't hit anything. Pedestrians continue to walk along the road. Cattle, goats, donkeys and sheep graze along the edge, with young boys keeping a somewhat watchful eye on them, as they themselves play dangerously close to the speeding traffic. Donkey carts plod along the side of the road, oblivious to the flow of trucks and cars. Shanty markets abound, displaying racks of fresh fruits and vegetables, bright cloths, hand carved pieces and other wares.


We ate lunch at the Java House in Nairobi, located in a modern shopping mall where well-dressed business people and shoppers dine. I again was struck with the stark contrast between these people to those selling their wares on the roadside. I reflected back to the swarm of pedestrians scurrying to work or to wherever it was that they were going, and my heart kept seeing the often vacant stare in their eyes. I thought of the verse in Proverbs that says, "Even in laughter, the heart may be in pain," and was then reminded of a song from some years ago:


"Everyday they pass me by; I can see it in their eyes --
Empty people filled with care, headed who knows where.
On they go in private pain, living fear to fear.
Laughter hides the silent cries only Jesus hears.

"People need the Lord. People need the Lord.
At the end of broken dreams, He's the open door.
People need the Lord."

The vacant stare. The empty laughter. Unique to Kenya? Definitely not! Look around Northwest Arkansas Mall or Montclair Mall or Walmart or Nordstrom or Dillards or the sports arena or the beach. So many people; so many of them empty at heart. Of all my impressions since coming to Kenya, this is the strongest. For the first time I have seen first hand the "globalness" of the need.

"We are called to take His light to a world where wrong seems right.
What could be too great a cost for sharing life with one who's lost?
Through His love our hearts can feel all the grief they bear.
They must hear the words of life only we can share.

"People need the Lord. People need the Lord.
At the end of broken dreams, He's the open door.
Yes, people need the Lord."