POP POP POP

“Mommy, I hear firecrackers”, Cole said as I shoved him to the floor and pressed him up against the gate.  His brother was smooshed between us and significantly more aware that…them weren’t no firecrackers. “No Cole,” he explained gently, as if he knew we were both trying to spare him the fear, “that was a man shooting a gun”.

I can’t explain it – it’s like I was in some alternate reality where guns aren’t dangerous.  I had no doubt that I had to get my kids out of the way of renegade bullets.  But my heart was not racing.  My hands were not shaking.  I was not afraid.  It’s like I was in a bubble of peace.

My boys had been dreaming out loud as we made our short journey from the house to the “duka” (itty bitty convenient store) built into the wall that surrounds our estates.  We know Miss Violet well.  So well, in fact, that my boys were scheming: if they used Isaac’s report card money to buy a soda, Miss Violet would probably just give them some gum.  I discouraged their selfishness and restricted their purchase to one soda that Isaac could choose to share if he wished – it was his 25 shillings.  Consequently, Cole became the sweetest brother ever as they sat on the little bench and chatted while Isaac sipped his pineapple Fanta.  I was leaning on the interior gate of the duka talking to Violet through the robin-egg blue security bars.  She’d been robbed a few weeks back and took immediate action by restricting access to all patrons; even us.  No longer allowed to browse the goods, I gave her my list while standing in a 3X5 foot cement pad and ducking to see her through the iron.  “I theenk that yoo are trayneen watoto een a way that is good”, she encouraged as she handed me my change.  “Watoto” means children in Kiswahili.  “I don’t know”, I confessed.  I had nagged my kids so much already today I was annoyed with my own voice.  “I just think it’s never too early to teach them the principles of money and generosity” I said with pride as Isaac offered a sip to his brother.  “But there are days I wonder if it’s making any difference at all”.

I stepped around the open doors to sit beside them for a moment and praise their beautiful brotherhood.  It’s almost like we were a page in a book and suddenly something from outside tore the page from top to bottom.  I feel like I’ve done a fair job at staying aware of potential risks now that we live in a foreign city.  But somehow that noise, that “pop pop pop”, took me by surprise.  When I looked up and saw the men running in our direction it only took a split second to decide that danger was following.  As soon as I’d made up my mind what plan A would look like the unarmed men were about 15 feet to our left.  By the time I convinced my boys off the bench and turned to check the status of the situation, the slower of the two gunman was parallel with my left shoulder and popping his gun wildly, although not really aiming directly at either of his targets.

I pushed my boys into the corner I had just vacated moments before and asked them to sit.  I put my arm around them both and watched the street in front of me for the story’s conclusion.  It was at this point that Isaac bravely tried to explain to Cole that we were not waiting for some pretty pink sparks to light up the afternoon sky.  By this time Violet had found her keys and was unlocking the gate with the intention of bringing us behind the gate.  But before she could crawl over my knees and reach the front doors, it was all over.  She motioned for me to leave the kids tucked away and join her near the wall outside the door.  I motioned for the boys to “stay” and cautiously looked for any sign of sense.  “Mostly they ah gahngs”, she explained.  I had to translate her Kiswa-English before I understood we were looking for possible cohorts – gang members.  I caught sight of a pair of clean, pink Timberland hiking boots lying in the middle of the road about 50 feet in the direction the shooters were running.  As if cued by Violet’s suspicions two men came trotting nonchalantly up to the boots, gathered them victoriously and continued on their way.  “So it’s like a diversion,” I conjectured out loud.  “Yah,” she said tipping her chin up as if to point at them, “they all work togethah”.

Convinced the coast was clear I called to my boys to join me and they each took a hand.  I tried to decipher the story from the gathering crowd but 2 months of eavesdropping Swahili courses didn’t afford me much.  I decided it didn’t matter anyway and turned to my kids.  “Are you okay?” I asked, mainly directed at Isaac who I knew was all too aware of what just happened.  He nodded and Cole chattered excitedly as if he’d just won front row tickets to a Western musical.  I assured them both we were safe and decided half-heartedly that I needed to continue on to the market to finish my errands.  The market is about a quarter mile in the same direction the men were heading.  But determined not to let fear have any foothold, I loaded the boys on a City Hoppa bus and we carried on as if nothing had happened.

When we returned and were safely inside the gate of our estates (although being the scene of the crime “safely” was becoming a relative term in my mind), I think I subconsciously breathed a sigh of relief and strutted my stuff at the same time.  And just as I began to feel a bit more proud of myself than perhaps I ought, I heard Coley say “Thank you, Jesus, for bringing us home safe”.  I squeezed his hand and said, “Amen, baby…Amen.”  Even as the words left my mouth I knew I was closing the prayer of hundreds of warriors back home who had just, albeit unknowingly, prayed us through one of the most dangerous situations I’ve ever encountered.

Even as I write I can tell you I have experienced no fear.  That is amazing – and a miracle.  Do you understand the power you have through prayer?  If you have ever thought that being a part of the prayer team isn’t as important as being a part of the financial team, I hope this story shows you otherwise.  Please, if you can commit to pray for us regularly, send us an e-mail and let us add you to Envoy Group’s LIFT prayer team.  You have no idea the peace it offers us just to know you’ve got us surrounded.

Thank you – thank you – thank you

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