The Skinny Little Runner Boys Build a House

Toward the tail end of my stay in Kenya, a group came to stay at the seminary and do three weeks of volunteer work. They actually came through Youth Encounter, the organization my mother works for, so I knew that I would be there at the same time as them before I even left the U.S.

I have to tell you that I was a little bit apprehensive about this group for one good reason. They were an all male high school cross country team from Illinois.

We all remember those high school days, so I'm sure you can understand my concerns. Fortunately, my fears were completely unwarranted because they were a group of all around great kids.

Here is a glimpse of what we at the seminrary dubbed "The Skinny Little Runner Boys" did on their second full day in Maseno.

Pastor Tom, who was spending his sabbatical at the seminary, paid for a widow he encountered to have a new house built. I wish I had a picture of it, but her previous mud house was laying in a pile of chunks on the ground. Hard rains will do that to the best of well-built mud houses and Kenya has both a short and long rainy season.

The widow and her three children were very poorly off. They had no family and at that point were receiving no support from anyone else in the community.

Rural Kenyan houses are built out of sticks and mud. The sticks make up the frame, and then several layers of earth mixed with water to the right consistency are slathered on to make the walls. There are several layers done at different times so thay they can dry properly. The final layer is made up of cow dung. It's the protective layer so just think of it as siding. (and yes, you slap that on with your bare hands as well)

These skinny boys from Illinois worked their tails off all day to first haul water in buckets from a creek (up a rocky hill, mind you) to fill up three oil drums before they could even start with the house. Then they had to attack the woman's yard with hoes and pickaxes to dig up enough dirt to mix with the water.



Travis, the father of two of the boys, showed them alllll up by taking several buckets up the hill on his head, Kenyan woman style, after receiving a demonstration from one of the mamas.


This wasn't exactly the soft black soil we're used to in the Midwest. It took some muscle.


The best part was when we got to "mix" the mud. After the front yard was completely torn up into loose dirt, the water was poured over it and we all had to jump in and stomp our hearts out. When that announcement was made, the boys all stared at each other and then at the dirt with utter disdain. They could haul water in huge buckets until they couldn't feel their arms anymore, but they didn't want to get dirty.

Me on the other hand - I was a sand box kid. I liked digging for worms and part of the appeal of playing catcher was that I had an excuse to get really dirty.

I had my shoes off and went flying into the dirt heap before any of the Runner Boys had time to start nominating each other for duty. It went well past mid calf and was gloriously cold and slimey.

The boys were not about to stand on the sidelines after I went jumping in with gusto, and I soon had an entire cross country team stomping around with me. If anyone has ever seen the grape-stomping episode of I Love Lucy, it worked the same way, only much harder due to the thickness of our stomping medium. Before long my calves were absolutely burning and I was quite sure I'd had my cardio in for at least a week.

By the time the mixing was completed, the women's group from the local parish had shown up to help with the actual mudding. For the next several hours, armfull after armfull of mud was thrown on the inner and outer walls and smoothed over. There were a few dozen people working on this one little house and it was great fun to watch.

The bright blue is their women's group uniform.

It got mighty crowded on the inside with all the sets of hands that showed up to help - a good problem. The woman who the house was being built for had done the previous layers on her own, including hauling the upwards of 30 required buckets of water from the creek, a task that had the boys absolutely drained and in physical pain after their first trip up the hill.

The best part of this was that by showing up, the women's group was in a way adopting this woman and her family, telling her she had their support. For someone with three small children and only the maize she grows in her yard for food, community support is what will make or break her. She should be ok now that the parish is aware of her situation and has already made an effort to take her under their wings.


And for the record, these Skinny Little Runner Boys went for a five mile run promptly after finishing up this day of hard labor.