We approached the elevator of the 8 story building that housed our lawyer's office. Typically, elevators seems to be small and narrow here in Kenya compared to what we are used to in N. America.
We were first in line, I was holding Zahra, and another adoptive friend of mine was holding her 15 month old son, accompanied by her Mother.
As we waited for the very slow elevator, the line behind us began to increase. Slowly the elevator approached, and the doors opened. Before I knew it, we were being rushed from behind... nudged and pushed... what we call back home 'Budging in line', by men and women.... it didn't matter - every man for themselves.
(This is something that I have experienced too much of here... My kids have been rudely shoved numerous times (by men and women) while they wait in line with me, and I have had numerous men budge in line right in front of me, like they own the place and their pants are on fire. No regard for anyone else. Perhaps my 'Canadian' manners have made me too sensitive to this type of thing as I find the more this happens (cause my jaw no longer hits the floor)... I often say 'Excuse You!'... )
As we opened the office door, we were greeted by a very small waiting room (similar size of your main bathroom). 4 chairs were lined up against the wall where three men sat.
Two of them instantly sat up and asked to us to 'Please, sit.' We sat down, and the men observed us with our Kenyan children, speaking amongst themselves about us in Kiswahili. This, we have grown accustomed to.
'Do you know what we are saying?' said the one man.
'No.' I said.
'We are saying that you will forever be blessed by God for the gift of love you possess in your heart to love these children of ours. Thank you.'
'Thank you,' I said, 'that is very nice.'
Then he pulled out his wallet. 'I would like to bless these children.'
I thought he was going to pull out a prayer card or something similar, but he started to pull out money, then the other two men started to do the same. All searching their barren wallets and pockets.
'I am a Pastor, and I would like to bless these children.' as he passes me the small bills he collected. 'Please buy these children a soda.'
A soda! Ha... Certainly not what I was expecting, but a generous offer nonetheless.
Together, they collected 300 shillings per child, about $3.50 Canadian. I assure you that these men were not of the wealth to afford this donation, but they gave what they had. We felt quite honored.
We did not buy the babies soda with this money, but instead tucked it away in a safe place... for our Kenyan children to remember that love can be found where you least expect it.