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Day 3 – Sunday in Yogo
We started our day with people pouring into the breakfast lounge in all kinds of conditions. Some were bright-eyed and fully rested. Others looked like they had spent the night tossing and turning. Between the time zone difference, the heat, and the heaviness of what we’ve seen so far, sleeping can be an elusive treat.
By 8:30 a.m. we were loaded onto the bus and headed to Church… which also started at 8:30 a.m. Thankfully, by this point, we’ve embraced the Kenyan time management system. 😅
When we arrived, we were met by a beautiful worship team and a sermon that packed a punch—both to the soul and to the eardrums. Church in Kenya is loud. And I mean loud.
One thing about Sunday in Kenya: you see the most incredible outfits. Everyone seems to put on their absolute best, and many make the long walk into church looking sharp and dignified. It’s honestly amazing to see so much beauty and effort in such a dusty, rural setting.
After the service we spent some time with the kids, and then made our way to visit Najel’s ancestral property. We were greeted by his mom, dad, and grandpa—three generations with the hope of living together on the same plot of land. They proudly showed us the renovations they’ve been working on to make the home more habitable.
To commemorate the visit, we planted a few trees, and then walked down to the water source to bring water back.
Yellow jugs—about 50 pounds once filled—were carried over 700 metres by weary Canadians. It was humbling. Even more so when we watched countless kids doing the exact same task as if it was nothing.
From there we went to visit widows. We split into teams of two and met with three widows. A fourth was away tending to a family death, so we visited with her grandchildren instead.
The stories were sad, but the homes were filled with joy. The conditions weren’t what we would consider comfortable by Canadian standards, but the widows reminded us how thankful they were simply to have a home where they could live safely and peacefully. They were truly grateful to have us sit with them, listen, and hear their stories.
It was a powerful reminder of what James 1:27 calls “pure and undefiled religion”
We ended the evening with a meal at Bishop Silas’ home. He left us with a story of hope, though he gently glossed over the pain it took to get there. He gave us a blessing, and then returned home.
Kenya is so much more than Tuskers, Stoney’s, and standing on the roof rack of a van.
It’s about seeing the beauty of community—people working together, lifting each other up, and holding onto joy in places where you might not expect to find it.
