There is a group of littles girls walking the streets of nairobi.
They scavange for food in the pits and bins all through the city streets.
They sleep on pavements, under the Bridges and in shanties in the city slums.
Sometimes they eat, sometimes they don't.
Sometimes they get robbed, sometimes they get raped.
They appear not to care about their conditions, but this attitude is born of hopelessness.
And even though they appear accustomed to their pain, the desperation shows in their eyes.
Just like the rest of us, they hope for a better tommorow.
They would grab on anything with an appearance of comfort. This leads them into sexual escapades and prostitution.
The children born out of this, end up on the streets just like their parents before them, and the cycle begins again; the cycle of hopelessness and pain.
There is a band of young boys roaming the streets of kitale.
All they seek is a meal for the day and something to get high on. Its important that they forget their hopelessness.
Drugs keep them warm, since no one feels cold when they are high and passed out anyway.
Reality is too harsh for them, so they have to seek comfort in the ilusion of drugs.
Some of them join gangs for security, a few break away and find comfort in the hands of a God-sent, yet many die young in their hopelessness.
Each has a story to tell about how they ended up where they are now, but it doesn't matter, because few are willing to listen and it won't make a difference anyway, so no one tells it.
They see themselves as different from the rest of the world, they hate the world and the world fears them and hence hates them in return.
They know little about love, because they have never really experienced it. For them, it was survival from the word go, and survival it will be to the end for some of them.
The world watches as though blindly, the plight of such as these.
The government sees them as a security threat and handles them as criminals.
The church is too busy with her construction projects, and their individual material advancements, and no one wants to be inconvenienced.
A few are concerned, and in their own little way, they give hope and spread love, even to this breed of humanity.
They see hope and value where the rest of the world doesn't. They see an image of their maker in this littleones, however degenerate they may appear. They understand that they have been saved by the grace of God, and that everyone needs Him just like they did and still do.
They are the light of the world, each in thier own capacity:
For the street preacher, their spiritual well being and for the generous souls, their material well being.
These are the beautiful souls, the instruments of love in the hands of their maker. These are the blessed faithful servants of God. The faithful ambassadors.
There is an opportunity all around us to make a difference in the lives of these little ones, will you join the movement? Hasn't the call rang out already? Will you heed the call? There is a desperate young soul out there that you were destined to touch, will you seek them out?
These littles ones may have been sent for the deliverence of some of us,
From the greed and materialism in our hearts,
Didn't Jesus point it out, that the poor you will always have among you?
Happy are those who die in the service of the Lord; happy are they who labour alongside Him for the healing of souls and the restoration of the world; they will enjoy rest from their hard work because the results of their service go with them.
Poem by Evans Chemei
