About a year ago I traveled to Korr and Kurungu, Northern Kenya, to produce a film about the nomadic peoples of northern Kenya. When Ted returned from the US in May, he picked up this project which had been sitting on my desk waiting to be edited. I am so glad to see this project completed, finally, and am excited to see what God will do through this video to raise up prayer and mission support for the unique challenges of ministering to nomadic tribes. Korr remains one of my favorite places in Africa, and we are privileged to partner with the church and missionaries there frequently!

It was my 2nd time in Korr, Northern Kenya, in the desolate desert of what’s called the “northern frontier district.” Frontier is the right word, as this is past the edge of civilization by at least an 8 hour drive.

The lack of water is a big problem in East Africa right now. 2 years of miserably poor rainy seasons and deforestation of parts of the Kenyan highlands have left many people in a bad state. (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8057316.stm) Especially in the desert, where people rely on their animals for survival, not just the meat but liquid from milk and blood. These people, mostly nomadic, move their entire village with the herds, or send the warriors out for months at a time with the herds, in a never-ending search for water and grazing. So when it doesn’t rain, the animals get sick and die, and the people lose not only their way of life but the very thing that keeps them alive.

So, when we pull up to a village (a “goob” in the local language) with our Land Cruiser, the women (who have the job of finding water and firewood every day) seize the opportunity to save themselves a 4 hour walk to the well and back. They run to their huts, grab whatever containers they can find, and swamp the truck. You can’t imagine how many people can fit in the bed of a pickup truck until you try it. If there was room for one more foot, or for one more person to hang on to the side of the truck it would be taken.

As we bounced along the bush, crossing dry streams, swerving to avoid camel carcasses, the women sang. They sang the entire drive to the well, at the top of their lungs. When we stopped so they could fill their jugs, I asked Nick (the missionary who was hosting us) what they were singing about. “Praise songs to Jesus, mostly,” he replied.

The volume of their singing doubled on the trip back to their village with the now-full jugs of water. It was a double blessing for those ladies that day, not only saving them 4 hours of walking, but half of that with a back-breaking load of water(well, back-breaking if I tried it, but these ladies are tough and strong!). It was a double opportunity for them to sing out in praise and thanksgiving to their God, to our God.

Last time I was in Korr, Ted and I filmed an interview with Indubbayo, a woman who came to Christ through the local literacy classes and now serves God as a traveling evangelist, visiting goob after goob, sharing the hope and peace she’s found in Christ. A hope and peace that’s pretty rare in these desperate times.

2 years ago when Ted and I were here, she shared one of the songs she’d written. A worship song to God, in the traditional Rendille style. Something that hadn’t been done before, up until that point the church was mostly singing songs from other sources that had been translated into Rendille.

And now, 2 years later, through Indubayyo and the literacy programs Rendille are coming to know Jesus, and each village is coming up with a unique, indigenous expression of worship.

As a musician, and a closet ethnomusicologist, that really excites me. And bouncing along these dusty roads with these beaded women worshiping God for the little blessings in life, reminds me of why I’m here in Africa, and why I love what God has us doing.

The people we were videoing/photographing were the Rendille, a beautiful tribe of Cushitic origin, known for their goat and camel herding and colorful beads they wear. They live in small huts, gathered together in small villages, many miles apart from each other. We were working specifically with a Rendille pastor who had a church, school, and many literacy outreach projects, as well as being involved in translating the Bible into Rendille.

The first morning we arrived we dropped some of our gear at the house we’d be staying at, then toured the local village. After lunch we hopped in the back of a Land Rover and bounced through the desert (picking up anybody on the way who might flag us down… this is part of the responsibility of owning a car here… at one point we had 12 in the car!) to see some of the literacy classes going on. The classes would meet at a large Acacia tree out in the middle of nowhere, but somewhere near each village. We visited at least 2 classes that day and walked probably 2 or 3 miles. We arrived back at the house sweaty, dusty, and hot. The shower felt good, but I didn’t take a long one knowing that every drop of water was pumped from a well in town and carried by hand to that house.

I was awoken that 1st night, and each night, by the sound of hyenas crossing by the house. One night there must have been 5 or 6, with their evil laughing barks, searching for dogs or small animals to drag back to their den and devour.

The 2nd day we visited the school, and some of the village’s children’s literacy classes, also under random, large Acacia trees. We also went into some of the huts of a local village with the pastor, after getting the required permission from the village elders. Drank smoky chai in a sweaty hut and met the extended family of the Rendille pastor we were with.

The 3rd day we brought our camera, sound and light gear inside a hut of a woman named Ndubayo (sp?) who had an awesome testimony of how she came to trust Christ. We recorded her testimony a couple of times, with and without translators, and were blown away each time by the joy of the Lord that was reflected in her beaming smile. Blown away by the fact she couldn’t talk about Jesus without grinning from ear to ear.

As the sun was setting on our 3rd and final day, we climbed a hill near the town of Korr for some excellent lower-light photography (shooting in the noon-day sun was not only killing us but provides some of the worst lighting conditions you could ask for). As we wrapped up our shooting, we counted the tapes: 8.5 hours of video from the past 1.5 weeks, which we need to log and archive, and create a 3 minute video from within the next 2 weeks!

Lesa and the kids survived the 4 days/3 nights without dad/husband/superhero, but were glad to see me return. I had such an awesome time, and between Kibera on Monday and Korr on Tuesday-Friday, I feel like I’ve gotten to see a part of Kenya most people don’t get a chance to see except in journalism or coffee-table books. I feel totally blessed to get to take a part in all of this, and know that many people have sacrificed for us to be here. We’ll never forget that, nor our God who pulled all things together and sustains us in this strange and fabulous and foreign land.

Click here for more photos from Korr

The amazing part of this story is what this man is doing now. He is one of 3 translators working in Korr to translate the Bible into the Rendille language… they’ve already completed about half of the New Testament (the book of Mark took 2 years alone!). God had a plan for Joshua, and not even a lion attack could thwart that plan. What an awesome God we serve, huh?