Mission to Kenya 2026 | Juja Farm, Kenya | 2 July –24 July 2026
by Kennesha M. Walker

Returning to the Children’s Home

When I arrived at Happy Life in Juja Farm on July 2, 2026, much of what I had planned for my return involved the school, but stepping back onto the compound also brought me into another part of the story that had stayed with me since 2018. I had spent nearly three months in Juja Farm during my first extended mission, and so many of my memories were connected to the children I came to know while living and serving among them.Me

Eight years had changed a great deal. Many of the children I had worked with directly in 2018 were now teenagers or young adults, while others I remembered as little girls or babies were now old enough for me to interact with them in ways they could remember for themselves. Even within the Children’s Home, the children I encountered in 2026 came with different connections to Happy Life. Some had grown up there, while others attended Happy Life Christian School and boarded at the Children’s Home during the school term.

A number of the children had never known me at all, and others had been far too young in 2018 to participate in the music and dance experiences connected to the Kenya Music Festival that had shaped so much of my first mission. Those differences became important almost immediately because I realized I was not returning to recreate what had happened eight years before. Even when a familiar face connected me to a memory I carried from 2018, the children standing before me were not simply another version of the dancers and musicians I had once taught.

I would later reconnect with many of the older children, but those first few days were giving me something different. They were opening the way for me to build relationships with the children who were there now and to let this return become its own experience rather than measuring it by what had happened before.

Bringing “Watch God Move” Back to Life

Only two days after arriving, on July 4, I began teaching the children a dance routine to “Watch God Move” by Colorado Mass Choir and Joe Pace. Although the routine was new to them, I had to reach back nearly twenty years in my own life to a time when I had learned it while serving in praise dance ministry. As I prepared for Kenya, I had prayed about what I should bring to the children, and this was the dance that continued coming back to me.

Remembering enough of it to teach was not as simple as remembering the song. Some movements returned easily while other parts had faded from memory, so for several months before traveling, I listened to the music repeatedly and worked through whatever choreography I could still recall. I reached out to others who had danced it with me years before, hoping someone else might remember the portions I had lost. But time had passed for all of us, and many of those memories were too distant to help reconstruct the routine at first.

Recording myself eventually became one way I worked through the gaps. I went through the movements I still knew, but the recording ended up helping me more than I expected. As I moved through each section, other parts resurfaced, and pieces that had felt locked away slowly began coming back. I kept returning to the music, listening on my rides to work and practicing the moves at home, while continuing to pray for the routine to come back little by little. Eventually, I had enough of the choreography restored to bring it with me to Kenya.

Once I was standing in front of the children at Happy Life, the choreography moved beyond what I remembered into something that worked for the group I actually had. We began with sections everyone could learn together, which gave all of the children interested an opportunity to try the dance before I decided how the routine would eventually be structured. As we practiced, I began noticing who grasped the movements quickly and who was willing to keep working when they became more challenging. Those observations later helped me identify children who could handle the smaller featured sections near the beginning of the routine before the larger group joined them. I honestly did not arrive already knowing how many children would take those parts, so the rehearsals became one of the ways I started learning who they were and how each child seemed to find their place within the unfamiliar dance style.

Teacher Mary became an important part of those rehearsals because she knew the children and could help keep them focused while I concentrated on the choreography. Her ability to communicate with them in both English and Kiswahili was especially helpful when the energy of the group became difficult to manage. With her support, I had more room to concentrate on the movements and help the children become comfortable with what they were learning. The experience felt different from some of the dance work I had done in 2018, when I was often helping strengthen material connected to performances already underway. “Watch God Move” came from something I had carried from my own past, but now I was placing it before children who had never danced with me before and watching them begin to make it their own.

During those first rehearsals, I believed I was simply teaching them something they could enjoy and perhaps continue after I left. I did not yet know that the dance would become part of a talent showcase or how little time we would eventually have to prepare for it. At that point, I was still learning the children, they were still learning me, and “Watch God Move” was becoming one of the first things we were building together.

Music Was Already Growing Around Them

While I was beginning to teach “Watch God Move,” I was also seeing how music had continued developing among the Children’s Home children. On July 4, I had the opportunity to watch several of them rehearse with Jeremiah, the Minister of Music from Overcoming Faith Church’s main location, along with a saxophone instructor who was helping prepare the instrumentalists. Keyboard and bass were already part of the rehearsal, several children were learning saxophone, and another child was playing the drum set while the singers prepared to work with them. Watching that rehearsal helped me understand that I was not returning to a place where I needed to rebuild everything I remembered from 2018. Music was already happening around the children, and other instructors were actively investing in what they were learning. My role during those weeks could therefore be more focused, allowing me to contribute something of my own without stepping into work that was already being developed around them.

Singing had been an important part of my relationship with the children during my first mission, so I wanted to return to it even though these were not the same children I had taught eight years earlier. One of the songs I brought back was “O Give Thanks,” which I had also introduced at Happy Life in 2018. This time, I wanted the children to move beyond simply learning the melody and begin hearing how their voices could work together in harmony. On July 15, I spent more focused time with them on “O Give Thanks” before they joined the musicians and singers who had been preparing “Lord, I Lift Your Name on High.” Hearing the children begin to sing in harmony was meaningful because it required them to listen differently and become more aware of how their individual parts worked within the sound around them.

I only had a couple of weeks with the children, so there was never enough time to teach everything I imagined. What became more important was recognizing what was already growing around them and finding places where I could contribute in a way that supported what was already happening. Dance gave me one opportunity to do that, and singing gave me another, while still allowing this group of children to have an experience that belonged to them.

As I continued getting to know the children through those rehearsals, my thoughts also kept returning to the older students I had worked with in 2018. I wondered whether I would have an opportunity to see them while I was in Juja Farm, especially now that so many of them had moved into high school and a very different part of their lives. I did not have to wait very long before one of them answered that question in a way I never expected.

When Henry Called My Name

By the time the second missionary group arrived at Happy Life, they had already experienced two delays during their travels to Kenya, and the exhaustion showed when they first arrived. The group included younger missionaries Shane, Andrew, Holly, Christian, and Hanna, from various areas of Florida and Cleveland, Ohio. Once they had time to settle in, their energy and joy quickly became part of the Happy Life atmosphere. I noticed it during our conversations at the house and around the dinner table, and later when we traveled together to Faith Premier High School. The same lively spirit came through in the way they interacted with the children, led devotions, worked on their mission painting project, and with one another throughout their time at Happy Life. They brought another kind of warmth and energy into the days we shared with the children, and it was felt by all those who they encountered.

One evening while we were gathered for dinner, we heard what sounded like a vehicle pulling into the compound. I stepped outside and, from the third floor of the building where we were staying, looked down to see a school bus below. I soon realized it was from Faith Premier High School, where many of the children I had worked with in 2018 were now attending.

Before I had much time to take in what I was seeing, I heard someone below calling my name. I was trying to figure out who could see me well enough from that distance to recognize me after eight years, but the voice continued until I realized one of the students on the bus knew exactly who I was. It was Henry, and hearing him call my name made it suddenly real that some of the children I had been wondering about were right there below me.

So, I bolted down the stairs, and Shane, one of the missionaries from the second mission team, came with me. We climbed onto the bus so we could see which students were there, and I found myself looking at faces that had changed with age while still carrying features I recognized. Even in that brief encounter, I could feel how much time had passed as I looked at teenagers who had matured far beyond the ages I remembered.

At the time of that bus encounter, we had been told that we would have an opportunity to visit the students at Faith Premier on Monday, July 13. As the schedule developed, another opportunity opened sooner. Faith Premier was hosting an event on Saturday, July 11, where neighboring high schools were being highlighted, and families could learn more about what the different schools offered. Since the students would already be participating in activities that day, it gave us a better opportunity to spend time with them without interrupting their regular studies.

Instead of waiting until Monday, we traveled to Faith Premier on Saturday. Once we arrived, the visit became much more personal than simply seeing the school because I was able to sit with students I had not seen in eight years and hear about their lives while they asked questions of their own. I brought my tablet with me because it contained photographs from my 2018 mission, and I wanted the students to have an opportunity to see them. As they began looking through the pictures, conversations started unfolding around me. They recognized themselves and their friends, while other photographs brought back students who had already graduated or were still connected to Happy Life. One picture would lead to another memory, sometimes between the students themselves and sometimes in conversation with me.

Picture 1: Faith and Jonathan, Picture 2: Girls for Happy Life gather around tablet to see pictures from Kennesha’s 2018 visit. Picture 3: selfie with girls from my 2018 visit pictured as teenagers in high school.

Watching them respond to those pictures reminded me that I had been carrying only one version of what happened in 2018. The photographs were part of my record of that time, but the students were looking at pieces of their own childhood and remembering experiences that had continued living with them long after I returned to the United States.

Some began reminding me of the Indian cultural dance we had worked on for the Kenya Music Festival, and Abraham and Henry remembered specific movements that had stayed with them. I had attached English words to parts of the choreography years earlier to help the children remember what came next, and apparently my enthusiasm while teaching those sections had become part of the memory too. Hearing them demonstrate the movements back to me showed me that what stayed with them was not always what I would have expected.

The same thing happened when the girls brought up a small song I had made while I was learning Kiswahili. I had been amused by the difference between keti, meaning “sit,” and kiti, meaning “chair,” and somewhere in the middle of spending time with them, I turned those words into a playful little song that also included a line about golden shoes. At the time, it had simply grown out of laughter and my attempts to remember the language, so hearing them sing it back to me eight years later recovered a memory I had nearly lost.

I remembered the major events from 2018, but the students were bringing back some of the ordinary experiences that existed alongside all of the festival preparation. As the afternoon continued, I found myself listening as much as I was talking, and the tablet passing between them became more than a way to look at old pictures. It gave us a way to remember together, with the students returning pieces of that time to me while also telling me what those years held from their side of the story.

Leah Comes Home

Among the students I had hoped to see at Faith Premier was Leah, and as I moved through the afternoon reconnecting with familiar faces, I kept looking for hers. I eventually learned that she was not there because she had been in the hospital, so I left hoping and praying that I would still have an opportunity to see her before my time at Happy Life ended.

Not long after the Faith Premier visit, Leah returned to the Happy Life compound to continue her recovery. I was grateful simply to have her back where I could spend some time with her before leaving Juja Farm, and seeing her again brought back memories of Nissi House, where she had been one of the older girls during my 2018 stay.

Esther, Cynthia, and Ivy were among the younger girls living there at the time, and I had spent many evenings getting to know the children beyond the music and activities that filled our days. I still remember one evening in June 2018 when I stayed longer and listened as the children said their prayers before bed. Their prayers affected me deeply and reminded me even then that sometimes the most meaningful thing I could offer was simply my presence.

The day after Leah returned, the Children’s Home held a celebration for several children whose birthdays were being recognized, and she was among them. One of the traditions allowed the child to choose someone they knew to feed them a piece of cake, and Leah chose me. After looking for her at Faith Premier and not finding her there, being included in that moment meant a great deal to me. Leah then decided that she wanted to feed me cake in return, turning the moment into something playful between us.

Later that evening, after the birthday celebration had ended, I spent time with Leah, Hadassah, and Shiko in the girls’ dormitory hallway. We were talking and laughing when singing gradually became part of the gathering, and before long more of the girls began joining us. We sang in English and Kiswahili, and my singing in Kiswahili caught some of them by surprise because they remembered me from a time when I was still learning the language.

Their reaction brought plenty of laughter, but I also appreciated what the moment represented. They were seeing something that had continued developing in me during the years I had been away, while I was getting the opportunity to discover how much had changed in them. Singing together gave us another way to reconnect without needing to recreate what our relationship had looked like when they were younger.

As the gathering continued, we took pictures and simply enjoyed being together without a lesson or performance attached to the time. I could listen to the girls and give them attention that did not require us to accomplish anything before the night ended. Sitting with them reminded me of what I had valued so much about those earlier times at Nissi House. In 2018, I had listened to their prayers and shared in the solitude of their lives. In 2026, some of those same girls were sitting with me again at a very different age, and although our conversations had changed, the value of being present with them had not.

Seeing Them at the Edge of Adulthood

Seeing Leah and the girls again was only one part of realizing how much the children I had known in 2018 had grown. The visit also gave me opportunities to reconnect with some of the young men I had known when they were much younger. Dominic, Peter, and Leon were all there during my stay, although my time with each of them looked different depending on their responsibilities.

Leon was working quite a bit, so most of our interaction happened through brief conversations whenever our paths crossed. I did not have the same amount of time with him that I eventually had with Dominic and Peter, but I was still grateful for those moments and for the opportunity to reconnect with someone I had known at a very different age.

My memories of Peter and Dominic reached back to some of the ordinary time we shared in 2018. Peter is Dominic’s identical twin and the firstborn, and during one of my August evenings at Happy Life, he became one of the children helping me with Kiswahili. He helped me with typed Kiswahili and agreed to work with me on my reading, while Dominic and Henry were eager to join whenever they could. I remember jokingly calling him “Mwalimu Peter” because he even gave me a homework assignment to complete before we worked together again.

Those language lessons gave me a different way to spend time at Shalom House and became part of how I got to know Peter and Dominic beyond the larger music activities happening around us. I also remembered their smiles. Whenever I looked at either one of them, they seemed to have an infectious smile that made it almost impossible not to smile back, and years later that was still one of the things I immediately associated with them.

By 2026, Dominic and Peter had graduated from high school and were in an interim period before beginning university. They were taking shorter classes while helping around the compound and preparing for the next step in their education. During a May gathering with supporters in Delaware, Bishop Peter and Pastor Faith shared that Dominic was interested in engineering and electronics, which made me begin thinking about what I could bring that would allow him to explore those interests practically.

I packed several older solar-powered cars that were no longer fully functional because I thought the repairs themselves could become part of the learning. When Dominic and Peter finally had time to sit down with me, we worked through the cars together and tried to determine what could be repaired well enough to get them moving again in the sunlight. Working with the cars gave us a practical way to talk about electronics while allowing them to examine what was happening directly in front of them.

I had also purchased micro:bits so they could experience programming in a hands-on way. Using my laptop, I showed them how to create a program and transfer it to the device, allowing them to see the relationship between what appeared on the screen and how the hardware responded. Our conversations naturally connected with concepts they had already encountered in school, including circuitry and Ohm’s law, but now they had equipment in front of them that made those ideas more tangible.

Finding uninterrupted time together took some patience because Dominic and Peter were balancing classes and responsibilities around Happy Life. When we were able to sit down, we sometimes spent a couple of hours working through the equipment while our conversations moved naturally toward what interested them and what they were thinking about for the future.

As we worked, some of the memories from the time we had spent together in 2018 also began returning. The relationship had begun years earlier through Kiswahili lessons and time together at Shalom House, so sitting with them in 2026 did not feel like beginning again from the start. Instead, something that had first grown through language and ordinary time together was now finding room to continue through technology and the questions they were beginning to ask about what might come next in their education.

Eight years earlier, Peter had been helping me learn Kiswahili and giving me homework. In 2026, we were sitting together with Dominic, talking about electronics and programming while they prepared for life beyond high school. The subject matter had changed considerably, but what mattered most to me was recognizing that the relationship still had room to grow with them.

Reuniting with Mom Safari

The people I hoped to reconnect with were not only the children I had known in 2018. Some of the adults who had shaped my experience at the Children’s Home were still there as well, and Mom Safari, whose first name is Beth, was someone I was especially grateful to see again. I had first met her briefly during my 2017 visit to Juja Farm, but it was during my extended stay in 2018 that I had the opportunity to spend more time with her and get to know the woman behind the role she carried among the children.

Seeing her again in 2026 felt familiar in a way that was difficult to separate from the years that had passed. Our time moved easily from conversation into singing, and before long we found ourselves dancing together outside in the yard. I had continued learning Kiswahili while I was away, so this time I could bring more of the language into our time together through songs I had learned since my earlier visits.

Mom Safari was also my Mwalimu in the language, and we made use of our time together by practicing Kiswahili in conversation. What had once been another part of my learning during earlier visits had now become part of the way we could reconnect, allowing the language itself to become one more bridge between where our relationship had begun and where it was in 2026. Her faith had always stood out to me, and being around her again showed me how naturally it remained woven into everyday life at Happy Life. Prayer and encouragement were not confined to scheduled services because her faith was simply part of the way she lived among the children. She even has her own TikTok account where she sings and dances to gospel songs from her culture, which gave me another glimpse of the joy and expression that were already so familiar to me.

Mom Tere, whose first name is Mary, was another familiar presence from 2018. Seeing both women again reminded me of the spiritual foundation that continued to surround the children, including the Friday night prayer gatherings that remained part of life at the Children’s Home.

I appreciated seeing Mom Safari and Mom Tere not only as people I remembered, but as women who were still pouring into another generation of children. Many of the children I had known in 2018 had grown older or moved into other parts of life, yet these women remained there offering the same kind of steady presence I remembered. Spending time with them also drew me more deeply into the everyday life of the Children’s Home during this visit. Some of the most meaningful moments came as I entered the houses and spent time with the children as the day came to a close, where there was room for a different kind of connection than the one that developed through rehearsals or teaching.

Evenings of Stories and Prayer

Some of my quieter time at the Children’s Home developed through visits to one of the neighboring houses with the girls. Mom Safari allowed me to take a copy of Joto la Moyo with me so I could practice reading Kiswahili, and the book soon became part of a simple routine that gave me another way to spend time with the children outside of structured activities.

Reading Joto la Moyo gave me an opportunity to continue practicing my Kiswahili while sharing something with the girls. The mother of the house would help when I needed assistance, and the children would listen as we worked our way through the story together. Reading aloud required me to slow down and pay attention to the language, but the girls were patient with me and seemed to enjoy having the story become part of their bedtime routine.

I usually arrived early enough to hear the songs and prayers that were already part of how they closed the day, and then we would settle into the reading. As I continued through the story, the room would gradually grow quieter. Some of the girls tried to stay awake through the entire chapter, while others slowly began dozing off as they listened. Once I reached a stopping place, those who had fallen asleep would wake enough to begin getting ready for bed.

Spending that time with them allowed me to see a side of the Children’s Home that felt very different from the energy of daytime rehearsals. Nothing needed to be prepared or completed before I left. I could simply read with the children, practice my Kiswahili, and become part of the ordinary rhythm of their home life for a little while.

The reading began to matter enough to the girls that they noticed when I could not come. On nights when something prevented me from visiting the house, some of the children would find me later and ask whether I would be coming to read again. Their questions made me smile because what had started as a simple opportunity to practice Kiswahili through a story had become something they were expecting and looking forward to.

I had spent so much of my mission preparing things to teach that this part of my time with the children reminded me how much relationship can grow when nothing elaborate is planned. Sometimes it was simply a chapter from a book and a child trying to stay awake long enough to hear what happened next. Those moments gave me room to slow down and give the children my attention without measuring the time by what we had accomplished.

Those visits became another part of how I came to know this group in 2026. Some of the children were connected to the Happy Life I remembered from years earlier, while others were entirely new to me, but Joto la Moyo gave us a memory that belonged to this visit alone.

The Children I Remembered

Returning to Happy Life after eight years showed me that the memories I shared with the children were not always held in the same way. Some of the older children could tell me what they remembered about our time together in 2018, while with some of the younger ones, I was the person who remembered them from a time when they were still too young to hold those memories for themselves.
Cynthia, Ivy, and Esther were among those younger girls. They had only been around PP2 through second grade during my 2018 stay, so they were too young to be part of the main group preparing for the Kenya Music Festival. My memories of them came more from the everyday life surrounding that work, especially the playful moments when I could spend time with them away from rehearsals and simply enjoy being around them.

Even though some of the younger girls could not participate in the Indian cultural dance, they were certainly paying attention to what the older children were learning. Ivy, Cynthia, and Hadassah had watched us rehearse the routine so often that they began picking up pieces of the choreography themselves.

One day inside Nissi House in 2018, when no formal rehearsal was taking place and none of the older dancers were with us, the three girls decided they wanted to show me what they knew. They began doing movements they had watched us practice, including one I called “Push and Stretch,” which everyone knew was one of my favorite parts of the routine. Watching them imitate what they had learned simply by observing from the sidelines showed me how much they had absorbed, even though they were too young to perform with the older children.

Other memories came from moments that had nothing to do with rehearsals at all. I remember Esther sitting with my notepad in June 2018 and drawing a cat and a school before I began making bubble-letter drawings of the children’s names. The kids enjoyed seeing their names take shape on the page, so something I had started while waiting to speak with one of the mothers became another way for us to spend time together.

A few weeks later, Esther was playing with my hair while Leah styled it into little tails. Indian music was playing in the background as we talked, and the girls decided that my new hairstyle made me look like a pussycat. Those playful moments were never part of anything I had planned to accomplish in Kenya, but they became part of what I remembered about simply living among the children.
By August 2018, the girls had found another reason to have fun with me when some of them became fascinated with my long nails. They did not believe the nails were actually mine, and Esther started using stickers to make her own nails look longer before Sarah joined her, followed by Ivy and Cynthia. I remember how much fun they were having with something so simple, and memories like those became part of what I carried home from the Children’s Home just as much as many of the larger activities I had come to Kenya to do.

Seeing Cynthia, Ivy, Esther, and Hadassah again in 2026 gave those memories a different weight because I was now standing in front of girls who were much older than the little ones I could still picture so clearly. I remembered the children who had copied dance movements and found ways to make me laugh, but now I could sit with them at an age when our conversations could go much further than they had eight years earlier.

Some of the memories belonged more strongly to me, while they carried pieces of that time from their own childhood. Returning gave us the opportunity to bring those different memories into the same space and revisit a shared history from perspectives that had changed as all of us grew older.

Edwin, whom I also knew as Edu, was another child connected to a memory that had stayed with me from 2018. One evening in August, after we returned from a long day, he greeted me at the window and said my name, “Kennesha.” I had never heard him say my name before, and no one had prompted him to do it, which made the moment especially meaningful to me. The next morning, I heard him singing “I Believe” by Jonathan Nelson, one of the songs I had been teaching the children to sing in church and around the compound. I remember writing about that moment while I was still at Happy Life because it had affected me so deeply.

Seeing Edwin again in 2026 brought that memory forward in a way that photographs from the two visits can now show more clearly than words alone. I could remember the child whose laughter and smile had stayed with me from 2018 while also seeing him as he was eight years later. Like so many of the reunions during this return, the experience gave me another opportunity to connect a memory I had carried home with the person standing in front of me now.

My return also gave me the opportunity to reconnect with children I had first seen at an even younger age. Some of the children now at Happy Life were babies when I first encountered them at Roysambu in 2018, including Emma, Gideon, and Melissa, just to name a few. I had carried a strong photographic memory of several of those babies over the years, so encountering them again as school-aged children created a different kind of reunion.

By 2026, several of the children I remembered as babies were now in third, fourth, or fifth grade, which meant I could finally interact with them in ways that had never been possible at Roysambu. Instead of simply remembering the baby I had once seen, I could spend time with the child standing in front of me and begin discovering the personality that had developed during the years in between.
When the opportunity came, I was able to let some of them know that I remembered seeing them as babies at Roysambu. I never expected them to remember me in return since they had been far too young, nor did I want them to feel as though they were supposed to share a memory that could only belong to me. I simply wanted them to know that I remembered them and that seeing how much they had grown meant something to me.

Some of those children eventually became part of the “Watch God Move” dance routine, while I came to know others through creative arts activities and daily life at the Children’s Home. The children I had held in my photographic memory as babies were now right in front of me, old enough for us to begin forming memories together that they could actually carry for themselves.

By the time I was preparing to leave Juja Farm, I could still picture Cynthia, Ivy, Esther, and Hadassah as little girls inside Nissi House, just as clearly as I could remember Emma, Gideon, and Melissa as babies at Roysambu. Returning allowed me to connect those memories with the children standing before me in 2026, and this time I was leaving with more than the images I had carried for eight years. I had been given the chance to know them again through the people they were becoming.

Preparing Them for a Stage I Would Not See

Dance was woven through many of the memories I carried from Happy Life, even though it had become part of my work there in 2018 in a way I never planned. When the children first began preparing their Indian cultural dance for the 92nd National Kenya Music Festival, I was still observing the different areas in which they would be competing and watching the routine take shape under Teacher Gatimu. The students and teachers had begun working on the dance around the beginning of July, and by July 12, I found myself stepping in to help with some of the movements. What started with observation quickly became another place where I could contribute.

By the next day, I was spending much of my time helping put the routine together, fine-tuning movements Teacher Gatimu had already created and helping the children connect one section of the dance to the next. I remember being surprised that a part of my own background I had not expected to use in Kenya was suddenly becoming useful again.

Several weeks later, I was able to watch that same group perform the Indian cultural dance at the National Kenya Music Festival. By then, what I had first watched from the sidelines had become something I had invested many hours helping the children prepare. Their performance received an 86% score among 24 participating schools, and seeing them reach that stage became one of the memories I carried with me long after returning to the United States.

Most of what I had done with Indian dance in 2018 was learned in the moment. I used YouTube videos to help me understand movements while also working with what Teacher Gatimu had already created, which meant that I was often learning at the same time I was helping the children. The experience left me wondering how different it might be if I had an opportunity to learn Indian choreography for myself before returning to Happy Life. That opportunity came in 2025 when I had the chance to learn Bollywood and prepare for a competition with other adult groups during Saluting the Spirit of India: India’s Independence Day Celebration on August 16 at Deep Run High School in Henrico County, Virginia. Our group prepared a Comedy-Family Dance Competition piece, so this time I was experiencing Indian-inspired choreography as someone learning a routine well enough to perform it myself.

I enjoyed the opportunity to experience exercise and choreography in a fun way, but Happy Life remained in the forefront of my mind while I was learning. I kept thinking about how being taught another Indian style might help me develop ideas when I returned to Kenya. I did not yet know what I would bring back, but I liked the thought that the next time I returned, I might arrive more prepared than I did in 2018.

As I began preparing for my 2026 return, that interest became even more specific. I wanted to explore Bhangra and considered whether I could learn the style well enough to introduce something new to the children rather than simply repeat what we had done before. My thought was to find an instructor in the United States who could teach me properly, thus giving me enough time to become comfortable with the new style before I ever attempted to teach it in Kenya.

As the months of preparation continued, I realized that I did not have enough time to approach Bhangra in the way I believed it deserved. I did not want to rush through learning a cultural dance simply so I could say that I had brought another Indian dance to Happy Life, especially when my earlier experiences had shown me how much preparation could go into presenting something well. Eventually, I let the Bhangra idea go for this visit, and my attention kept returning to praise dance.

Over time, I began to recognize that praise dance was where I needed to focus in 2026, which brought me back to “Watch God Move,” the routine I had spent months recovering before the trip. When I began teaching it on July 4, I still did not know that the children would eventually perform the dance in a talent showcase at the main location of Overcoming Faith Church.

I had simply wanted to bring them something they could learn while I was at Happy Life and leave behind a dance they could continue after I returned home. Once I learned that “Watch God Move” was being prepared for an actual performance, the time we had left together suddenly felt much shorter.

Although I was at Happy Life for nearly three weeks, the children and I did not rehearse every day. We generally had only two or three opportunities each week to work on the routine, which meant our actual teaching time added up to roughly six or seven days across about two and a half weeks. Knowing that the talent showcase would take place after I left Juja Farm made me much more aware of what needed to happen while we were together.

One of the moments that encouraged me happened on July 13. A personal situation prevented me from being there at the very beginning of rehearsal, but by then, the children had already spent several days learning the routine. When I was able to see what they were doing without my help. They had continued practicing what they knew instead of simply waiting for me to arrive and tell them what to do next. Their willingness to keep working showed me that the dance was beginning to move beyond something that depended entirely on my presence.

From that point forward, I wanted to use the remaining rehearsals to make sure they felt prepared for the stage they would eventually step onto without me. Teacher Mary continued helping the children stay focused while I concentrated on the dance, and knowing that others at Happy Life would remain with them after my departure reassured me that their preparation could continue.

The difficult part was knowing that I would miss the actual performance in person. I was scheduled to leave Happy Life on July 22, while the talent showcase would take place on Sunday, July 26. By then, I had watched the children move from their first attempts at dancing an American-style praise dance choreography into a group that could carry the routine even further, so leaving four days before they stepped onto the stage meant trusting what they had already learned and trusting the people at the Children’s Home who would continue rehearsing with them.

Before leaving Juja Farm, I told the children that I still intended to watch them perform, and I meant it. By July 26, I was already in Kisii, but I made sure I knew when the event was taking place so I could watch online. I was able to see the children perform “Watch God Move,” and I also watched the performance band and singers present “Lord, I Lift Your Name on High,” the song Jeremiah and the other instructors had been preparing with them.

Watching from Kisii brought those different dance experiences together in a way I had not anticipated. In 2018, I had learned Indian dance movements while helping the children prepare for the Kenya Music Festival. By 2025, I had experienced Indian-inspired choreography from another perspective by learning Bollywood well enough to perform it myself. As I prepared to return in 2026, I had considered Bhangra, but I knew I did not have enough time to approach that style with the preparation and respect I believed it deserved.

Praise dance ultimately became the direction for this visit, and “Watch God Move” became part of the children’s own experience with me at Happy Life. Watching them perform from Kisii reminded me that dance did not have to look the way it had in 2018 to become meaningful again. I could bring what I was prepared to give in 2026, help the children make it their own, and then watch them carry it onto the stage even when I could no longer stand beside them.

Not Another Eight Years

As my time at Happy Life came to an end, I found myself thinking less about whether I had accomplished everything I originally hoped to do and more about the relationships that had filled those weeks. I returned carrying memories from 2018 and wondering what it would feel like to see some of the children again, but I could not have known how many of those memories would meet me in such personal ways once I was back among them.

Some children remembered moments I had nearly forgotten, while others had been too young in 2018 to remember me at all. I also found myself standing in front of school-aged children whose faces I still carried in my photographic memory as babies. Each reunion was different, and returning reminded me that I could not expect every child to hold the same memories I did or to experience our shared history in the same way.

I also began thinking differently about the kinds of moments that remain with children. A playful song or a movement from a dance could stay with them long after the larger event surrounding it had passed. I could never have predicted in 2018 which experiences would still be remembered eight years later, and hearing the children bring some of those memories back to me changed the way I thought about the time I was spending with them in 2026.

Those moments of solitude during this visit became even more meaningful. Reading Joto la Moyo with the girls did not lead to a stage, and many of the conversations around the Children’s Home were never connected to something I needed to teach. They simply gave me room to be present with the children, which had been one of the most meaningful parts of my relationship with Happy Life from the beginning.

Leaving in 2026 also felt different because I had now seen what eight years could look like in the life of a child. The little girls I remembered from Nissi House were older, while the babies I had seen at Roysambu were now walking around Happy Life with personalities I could begin to know for myself. Some of the young people I once knew as children were already looking toward life beyond high school, and seeing those changes made the passage of time impossible to overlook.

My hope is to return in 2027, not because I want to recreate what happened in 2018 or repeat everything we did in 2026. I want to return while these relationships are still growing and continue building on the time we have already shared. Whatever I bring with me next time can develop from who the children are then, rather than from an attempt to hold them in the place where I last saw them.

Happy Life has taught me that relationship does not remain frozen between visits. Life continues for the children and for the adults who care for them, while new relationships are also beginning. Returning gives me the opportunity to keep learning who they are instead of allowing years of distance to become the only thing connecting us. After seeing what eight years had changed, and also what somehow remained, I left Juja Farm knowing very clearly that I do not want another eight years to pass before I return.

Learn More About Happy Life

Happy Life Mission’s work extends beyond the music experiences I have shared here. To learn more about Happy Life Children’s Home, its schools, and its work supporting children through rescue, education, and health care, visit the official Happy Life Mission website at happylifemission.org.

The post Returning to the Children’s Home (Kenya – July 2026) appeared first on Missionary Kennesha.

By the time I prepared to travel to Kisii, I had already spent several weeks in Kenya serving in two other locations. Each place had given me a different experience, introduced me to different people, and allowed me to support work that was already taking place. I had learned a great deal along the way, and I was carrying those experiences with me as I prepared to enter the final two weeks of Mission to Kenya 2026.

Kisii felt different before I even arrived. I knew I would be spending my remaining time there, but I did not fully know what those two weeks would hold or what my role would become once I was there. I also knew there was something about my connection to the people in Kisii that I needed to understand more clearly. I did not want to decide what that connection meant before I had actually lived the experience, and I did not want to assume a role God had not given me.

Over those two weeks, I found myself serving in several ways. I preached, participated in ministry, spent time with the children through music, visited schools, joined conversations with ministry leaders, and listened as young people shared more about their lives. At other times, I was the person learning, whether through language, relationships, or simply paying attention to what was happening around me.

What I did not expect was how much being served would become part of my own experience. As the days continued, I began noticing the ways people made room for me, helped me become comfortable, and paid attention to what I needed. Those experiences would eventually cause me to look more closely at my own understanding of service and what it meant to receive from others as freely as I was willing to give.

Entering Kisii Without Knowing the Full Assignment

Even the journey to Kisii began with me letting go of one of my own plans. I had originally arranged for someone very dear to me to drive me there. He had already made himself available if I needed transportation, so traveling with someone I trusted was how I expected that part of the trip to happen. Plans changed when I learned that Pastor Joseph’s brother and his son were also traveling to Kisii and that a driver would already be taking them. Since we were going in the same direction, there was no need for me to arrange a separate vehicle, and I traveled with them instead.

The drive took somewhere between six and eight hours. I arrived in Kisii on Friday, July 24, and rested before the ministry activities began. As I settled into the compound, I began noticing how much preparation had already taken place before I ever arrived.

Several houses on the property were used by the orphanage children, along with another house located farther back on the compound. I later learned that the house prepared for our stay had required a great deal of work before we came. I was told that I was among the first to really stay there and enjoy the space after that work had been completed, and hearing how much effort had gone into preparing it left me speechless. I had arrived thinking about the people I was there to support, yet before I had preached, worked with the children, or participated in ministry, someone had already taken the time to make sure I had a comfortable place to rest.

Paular was also part of those first days in Kisii. She stayed with me in the house and helped me become familiar with the environment as I settled in. Our relationship developed naturally through conversation, laughter, learning about language and the people around us, and the everyday moments that came from spending time together. Her presence gave me someone I could become comfortable around while everything else was still new.

Food became another area where I began noticing the care around me. I have dietary restrictions and health concerns, along with choices connected with my faith, and I knew the way I eat could require adjustments from the people preparing meals. Explaining what I could and could not eat made me feel vulnerable because I never wanted caring for me to become an additional burden for the people I had come to serve. Even when I worried that I might be creating more work, I did not feel that concern reflected back toward me. People simply found ways to accommodate what I needed.

Those first days were quieter than many of the days that followed, which gave me time to notice the people who were already making room for me. The house had been prepared, meals were being considered around what I could eat, and Paular was helping me settle into a place that was still unfamiliar. I had entered Kisii prepared to contribute, while the people around me had already begun showing me care through their time, attention, and presence.

Serving Through Ministry, Music, and Education

My first opportunity to serve publicly in Kisii came on Saturday, July 25, when I shared a message called “What’s in His Name? He Made His Ways Known to Moshe” at a church location connected with Pastor Joseph’s ministry. The message centered on Psalm 103:1–7, especially verse 7: “He made his ways known to Moshe, his mighty deeds to the people of Isra’el.” I focused on the difference between seeing what Yahweh does and developing the kind of relationship where His ways become known.

I had included Swahili in the message because my previous experiences in Kenya had shown me how meaningful it could be to make an effort to connect through language. As I spoke, however, I was also learning something more specific about the community I was serving. Swahili could help create a bridge, but the local Kisii language was closer to the people themselves. Sagana, Pastor Joseph’s brother, stood with me and interpreted what I was saying so the message could be understood more naturally by those listening. His role became an important part of the experience because I could bring the message I had prepared while relying on someone with a deeper knowledge of the local language to help communicate it well.

The following day, my attention shifted toward the children at the orphanage. Music became one of the first ways we began getting comfortable with one another. I taught them “I Believe” by Jonathan Nelson and “Lord, Prepare Me to Be a Sanctuary,” along with a dance they could learn. Singing and movement gave us something to do together before we knew very much about one another, and the time quickly became more than simply learning songs. Conversation, laughter, and familiarity began developing alongside the music.

The relationships that started there soon moved beyond the compound. On Monday, July 27, I visited the primary school attended by some of the children, and they had no idea I was coming. I had only started working with them the previous day, so seeing them in their school environment gave me a different perspective on who they were. They were no longer only the children I had been singing with at the orphanage. I was seeing them as students within the routine of their school day, surrounded by their teachers and classmates.

Later that same day, I visited secondary schools attended by some of the older students connected with the orphanage. Many of them had not met me yet because they were still away at school and had not returned for the August holiday break. Visiting them where they were gave us an opportunity to begin a relationship before they came back to the orphanage. By the time they returned, I was no longer completely unfamiliar to them.

From July 28 through July 31, much of my daytime schedule was spent with The Truth and the Spirit, the ministry where I serve as a member and minister and which is also connected with Pastor Joseph’s ministry in Kisii. My role during those sessions was more supportive. I was not there to lead every discussion or assume that my perspective should be the one guiding the room. I listened, participated, and contributed when my own experiences could be helpful, especially when conversations involved language, culture, biblical interpretation, or the challenges that can arise when ideas move between different languages and translations.

Some of the most useful moments came when a question or observation opened the conversation further with leaders from the local region. Instead of assuming that I already understood how something should be explained, I could raise a point and allow those who knew the language and local context more deeply to add what I could not. Serving in those moments meant knowing when to speak, when to listen, and when someone else had the knowledge needed to move the conversation forward.

The days developed their own rhythm. My daytime hours could be spent supporting ministry and learning alongside local leaders, while the afternoons and evenings gave me time to continue building relationships with the children. The different parts of the experience did not feel disconnected from one another. Ministry, music, school visits, and conversation were each giving me a fuller picture of the people I was getting to know and the ways I could participate without needing every opportunity to look the same.

One of those quieter moments happened on Wednesday evening, July 29. I had almost forgotten that I had brought playing cards with me, but during some downtime, I remembered and asked Joshua, Apostle Markita’s son, if he wanted to play. We started playing I Declare War, and while we were sitting together, the power went out. Instead of ending the game, we brought out lanterns and other lights and kept playing. Sagana became interested in what we were doing and eventually joined us, and Apostle Markita soon joined in as well. Sagana also taught me a card game that was familiar to them and reminded me somewhat of Uno because certain cards carried different actions or values.

The playing cards continued throughout the quieter moments over the next several days. Joshua, Apostle Markita, Paular, Fred, Betty, and I played at different times, either one-on-one or together, playing games such as spades, and a Kisii card game. There were later afternoons and evenings when we sat in the back sunroom listening to music, talking, playing cards, and simply relaxing. What started as something to do during downtime became another way for us to learn one another well to laugh, become more comfortable, and enjoy time together.

When the Children Became My Teachers

The afternoons and evenings at the orphanage gave me a different kind of time with the children. We kept working on the songs and dance I had introduced, but our interactions grew more relaxed as the days went on. I was no longer thinking only about what I wanted them to learn. I also enjoyed the simple rhythm of talking, practicing, laughing, and watching how naturally they began to gather whenever I came outside.

The gazebo became one of the places where this happened most often. When I spent time there, children would begin making their way over from different parts of the compound to see what I was doing and join in. I did not have to plan a formal activity every time. Sometimes music or another activity would begin, and our time together would develop from there.

One afternoon, after the daytime ministry sessions had ended, I brought my flute to the gazebo. I played classical pieces while the piano accompaniment came through my cell phone, and children who had been doing other things began gathering around to listen. Music had already helped us connect through singing and dance, but the flute allowed me to share another part of myself without turning the moment into a lesson. Their curiosity made what began as me simply playing music into time we could enjoy together.

A different exchange happened when I brought out a Swahili book called Joto la Moyo, which means “Warm Heart.” I decided to read it aloud using the Swahili I already knew while working through words that were less familiar to me. The children listened closely, but they were not only the audience. When I needed help with a word or pronunciation, they stepped in and helped me work through it.

At one point, one of the children had an adult’s cell phone and began recording me as I read. I found it interesting that they remained so engaged even when I was the one struggling with the language and needing assistance. I had spent much of my time with them teaching songs and movements, yet while reading Joto la Moyo, the roles shifted naturally. They knew something I did not, and I was able to learn from them.

Those moments added something different to the relationships we were building. I did not have to be the person with all of the answers for our time together to have value. The children could sing what I taught them one day and help me work through Swahili the next, allowing our connection to develop through both giving and receiving.

Learning Through Language and Relationship

Language continued to shape my experience in Kisii beyond the time I spent reading with the children. I also developed a connection with Rizpah, one of the adults there, and from the beginning, our communication became part of how we got to know one another. When I first met her, I greeted her in Swahili and in a way that reflected what I had already learned through my previous experiences in Kenya. From there, our conversations moved between Swahili, English, and the local Kisii language.

Conversational Swahili is not one of my strongest areas, so there were times when I struggled to understand or respond as quickly as I wanted. Rizpah was willing to slow things down when I needed help, giving me time to listen more carefully and work through what she was saying. My willingness to try also gave her an opportunity to teach me words and expressions from her own language.

Swahili became a bridge between what I already knew and what Rizpah was helping me learn. I did not have to speak it perfectly for us to communicate, and making the effort to move beyond English gave our relationship room to develop differently. Through Swahili, she could begin helping me understand words and expressions from her own local language, while I became more comfortable allowing her to lead the exchange.

My connection with Rizpah grew through those exchanges. I could try a word, listen to her correction, ask questions, and allow myself to learn without worrying about whether I sounded perfect. The effort itself became part of the relationship because I was willing to enter a space where someone else knew more than I did and allow her to guide me.

By then, I was beginning to recognize how often my time in Kisii required that kind of openness. Some relationships developed because I had something to share, while others grew because I was willing to listen, learn, and let someone else help me understand what was unfamiliar. Language gave me another way to experience that exchange and made the relationships I was building feel more personal than they would have if I had remained only within what was comfortable to me.

What It Meant to Be Served

As the days continued, I began paying more attention to the ways people were caring for me in Kisii. Some of it happened around meals, where the chefs consistently made sure there was food I could eat despite my dietary restrictions, health concerns, and choices connected with my faith. Pastor Joseph, Sagana, and others also checked on me, especially because I was not eating meat, asking whether I was okay and whether I had eaten enough.

The meals themselves began to stand out to me for more than what was being served. After we prayed over the food, there were times when someone would ask, “May I serve you?” before placing food onto my plate. I had seen people serve food many times before, but the willingness behind the question caught my attention. It felt thoughtful and respectful, and it made me notice more carefully how care was being expressed through something as ordinary as sitting down to eat.

I eventually found myself reading more about hospitality and food within Kenya because I wanted to better understand what I was experiencing. I did not want to assume that every family or community expressed hospitality in the same way, but what I experienced in Kisii helped me see how sharing a meal could communicate welcome, care, respect, and community. The table became one of the places where relationships were developing while people simply made sure everyone around them was cared for.

Other expressions of service happened outside of meals. Rizpah would ask for my clothes in Swahili or the local language so she could wash them. During previous trips to Kenya, I had been uncomfortable allowing someone to wash my clothes by hand because it felt very personal to me. This time, our relationship had already developed enough that I was willing to hand them over and allow her to help. My clothes would be washed, dried, and returned to me, and I began noticing how differently I was responding to receiving that kind of care.

One small moment happened while I was eating when one of the Kenyan leaders connected with Pastor Joseph’s ministry noticed that my bottle of water was still sealed. Without me asking, he removed the plastic wrapping, cracked the seal, and handed it back to me. I remember the smirk that came across my face because I was not accustomed to someone noticing something so small and simply taking care of it for me.

Paular’s support was different because it was not connected to one particular task. She had been present from the time I arrived, helping me settle into the house, talking with me, laughing with me, and remaining nearby throughout my stay. Her consistency became part of how I experienced service in Kisii, just as much as the individual gestures that were easier to identify.

Food, laundry, companionship, and small acts of attention began adding up in ways I had not expected. None of them were large on their own, but together they were beginning to challenge some of the ways I had learned to think about receiving help. I had come prepared to serve others, while the people around me were showing me that being cared for could also be part of relationship.

Listening Before Deciding How to Help

By the beginning of August, I had spent enough time with the children to see them in several different settings. We had practiced music together, I had visited some of them at school, and our afternoons and evenings at the orphanage had become increasingly familiar. On August 1, they had an opportunity to share some of what we had been working on during a larger ministry gathering in Kisii.

The children performed “I Believe” by Jonathan Nelson and “Lord, Prepare Me to Be a Sanctuary,” along with the dance I had taught them to “Victory Chant” by Sam Song. Watching them stand before others felt different from the time we had spent practicing together. The songs and movements had begun with us working through things step by step, but during the service I could simply watch them take what they had learned and present it themselves.

The following day brought a completely different atmosphere. August 2 was set aside as a fun day, and football, or soccer as it is commonly called in the United States, became a big part of it. The boys divided into teams, and the girls had their own teams and match as well. I did not play, but I enjoyed watching the children compete, laugh, and spend the day enjoying one another without everything needing to become a lesson or organized activity.

Seeing them perform one day and simply play the next continued broadening the way I understood the children I had been spending time with. I had already seen them as students and as children learning music, but those moments allowed me to see other parts of their personalities and relationships with one another. By the time August 3 arrived, there was already more familiarity between us than there had been when I first came to the compound.

Apostle Markita Brooks, the ministry leader for The Truth and the Spirit, felt it would be important to have a session specifically with the girls from the orphanage, and I joined her during that time. She guided the conversation while I listened, participated where appropriate, and had an opportunity to hear the girls speak more openly about themselves.

They talked about experiences that had shaped their lives, the goals they had for their futures, and things they were thankful for. I had spent time teaching and interacting with them throughout the previous days, but this setting gave me an opportunity to learn about them through what they chose to share rather than through what I could observe from the outside.

Listening to the girls added depth to relationships that had already been developing. By then, I had seen them in school, singing, dancing, playing football, and spending time around the compound. Hearing them talk about their own lives reminded me that understanding someone requires more than observing what they do. There also has to be room for them to tell you what matters to them in their own words.

The conversation became especially important when I later had an opportunity to provide practical support. Instead of beginning with my own ideas about what the children might need, I could respond from what I had actually heard them share.

What Mission Support Made Possible

On August 4, we traveled to the market, where some of the purchases were simply for personal enjoyment and others were connected with supporting the children and the orphanage. The conversation with the girls was still fresh in my mind, and having listened to them gave me a better sense of where practical support could be useful.

I do not feel it is necessary to share the specific items that were purchased. What mattered to me was knowing that the support responded to things the children had expressed they needed for everyday life at the orphanage. Spending time with them first, listening to what they shared, and learning more about their lives helped me respond from a place of greater understanding rather than making assumptions about what I thought they needed.

The experience also caused me to think more deeply about the people who had supported Mission to Kenya 2026 and helped make it possible for me to be there. Their contributions helped cover the expenses involved in traveling to Kenya, moving between locations, remaining in the country for several weeks, and carrying out the work connected with each part of the mission.

Being physically present in Kisii mattered as I spent time with the children, visit their schools, listen to them, learn more about their everyday lives, and allow relationships to develop before deciding where support might be useful. Some of the resources entrusted to me for the mission were then able to reach the children in ways I could not have understood from a distance. Airfare, transportation, lodging, meals, supplies, and other expenses were necessary parts of getting me there and allowing the work to happen. At the same time, the support that made my presence possible also created opportunities for me to respond when needs became clearer through the relationships I had been building.

I began to see more clearly how supporting someone to go on a mission can extend beyond helping that person reach a destination. It can create the time needed to listen, learn, build relationships, and recognize where practical support may be appropriate. In Kisii, the help I was able to provide grew out of being present long enough to understand more about the people I was there to serve.

A Hug For Every Child

By August 5, my time in Kisii was coming to an end, and I knew I would soon be traveling back to Nairobi. After two weeks of ministry, school visits, music, conversations, meals, and time spent simply being around the children, I felt strongly that I wanted to make sure I said goodbye to each of them in a personal way before I left.

By then, I had spent enough time with the children to understand that each one carried a different story. Some had come from family situations that could no longer provide the stability or care they needed, but I did not want those circumstances to become the main way I remembered them. I had seen them sing, dance, attend school, play football, laugh, learn, help me with Swahili, and enjoy being together.

As the goodbyes began, some of the children would come toward me and extend a hand for a handshake. I would turn the handshake down and ask for a hug instead, and before long the exchange became playful. I started looking around to see who had not received a hug yet, and the children began helping me find anyone I had missed.

They would point someone out or make sure another child came over, and what could have been a quiet goodbye became something filled with laughter. I wanted to make sure no one was overlooked, and the children became part of making that happen.

There was also a deeper reason I wanted to hug each one of them. I wanted the children to leave that moment knowing they were loved, seen, and cared for. I could not change every circumstance connected with their lives, but I could make sure that my final interaction with them was not rushed or distant.

After everything we had shared during those two weeks, the hugs became a simple way to close my time with the children. I had come to Kisii expecting to serve through ministry, music, and whatever opportunities were given to me, but some of the moments I carried away were much quieter than that. Making sure every child received an embrace became one of them.

What Kisii Taught Me About Service

After saying goodbye to the children on August 5, I left Kisii and traveled back to Nairobi. The following day, August 6, I left Kenya and began the journey home to the United States. Mission to Kenya 2026 had taken me through three different locations, and each one had given me a different experience of service. Kisii left me with something I was still trying to understand more fully.

Once I was home and had time to reflect, I began thinking about why being served in Kisii had affected me so deeply. I had gone there prepared to help others, but many of the moments that stayed with me were the times when someone noticed something I needed and chose to help without being asked. The meals, transportation, Rizpah washing my clothes, Paular remaining present throughout my stay, Sagana interpreting while I preached, the children helping me with language, and even someone opening a bottle of water began to look different when I considered them together.

Receiving that care also made me look more closely at my own independence. I had become accustomed to taking care of many things myself, and accepting help could make me uncomfortable because I did not want to become a burden. Past experiences had also made it difficult at times to receive care without wondering whether something might eventually be expected in return. Kisii brought some of those thoughts to the surface in ways I had not anticipated.

As I prayed about what I had experienced, I began asking Yahweh to deal with the walls I had built around receiving support and the places where hurt had influenced the way I understood love. I started considering whether part of what I was experiencing in Kisii was bringing healing to an area of my life I had not fully recognized before. The people caring for me were not asking me to earn their service or prove that I deserved it. They were simply choosing, in different ways, to make sure I was cared for.

I had always understood service as an expression of love when I was the person giving it. Kisii challenged me to recognize that same love when it was being extended toward me. Allowing someone to help me did not erase what I had come there to contribute, nor did receiving make me less capable of serving. It allowed relationship to move in both directions.

By the time I looked back on those two weeks, my understanding of service had become fuller. I could still value giving what I had, showing up where I was needed, and responding when I could help, while also recognizing the importance of receiving what someone else freely chose to give. Kisii showed me that service did not always require me to be the person doing something for someone else. Sometimes it required enough openness to let another person care for me too.

What Kisii is Still Teaching Me

When I first entered Kisii, I knew there was something about my connection to the people there that I needed to understand, but I did not know exactly what it was. Two weeks later, I left with meaningful relationships, experiences that had changed me, and a clearer sense of what had been fulfilled during my time there. Even with that clarity, I could not say that I fully understood everything Yahweh might eventually reveal about the connection.

The uncertainty became part of my prayer rather than something I felt I needed to resolve immediately. I asked Yahweh for clarity concerning what He had designed for me to do in Africa and for the strength to walk in whatever assignment He had given me. My thoughts returned to the vision I received when I was six or seven years old, long before I could have understood where it might lead or how different parts of that calling would unfold over time.

As I reflected on Kisii, I also thought about the message I had preached shortly after arriving. Psalm 103:7 says, “He made his ways known to Moshe, his mighty deeds to the people of Isra’el.” I had taught about the difference between seeing what Yahweh does and knowing His ways, and by the end of those two weeks, that message had become more personal to me than I expected.

I could look back and recognize what had been accomplished without assuming that I already understood everything it would come to mean. I had served where opportunities were given, supported ministry, spent time with the children, listened, learned, built relationships, and responded where I could. What I had been given to do during those two weeks had been done, even if the larger significance of the experience was still unfolding.

Kisii remained distinct from the other locations I served during Mission to Kenya 2026, and I believe some of the reasons for that distinction may become clearer with time. The fruit of the relationships, conversations, ministry, and time spent together may continue to develop in ways I cannot yet see. I do not feel a need to decide ahead of time what the connection must become, but I am hopeful that Yahweh will continue to reveal more as time progresses.

I no longer see not knowing the fullness as an unfinished ending. I can be grateful for what was fulfilled while remaining open to whatever more Yahweh chooses to show me. The same desire that shaped the message I shared when I first stood before the congregation in Kisii still remains: not simply to recognize His acts, but to know His ways well enough to follow wherever He leads.

The post What I Found in Kisii: Service, Relationship, and a Deeper Understanding (Kenya – July/August 2026) appeared first on Missionary Kennesha.

When I returned to Happy Life in 2026, I had already imagined some of what progress in music education might look like after eight years. I was thinking about how many students might be playing instruments, how far they might have progressed in reading music, whether ensembles had continued developing, and whether students were still participating at different levels. Those were natural things for me to look for because they were connected to the music program I remembered leaving in 2018 and what I had hoped could continue as new groups of children came through the school.

Coming back also gave me an opportunity to see some of the students I had worked with in 2018. Many of them were much older now. Some were juniors and seniors in high school, while others had recently finished high school and were attending university or trade school. I remembered many of them as younger children who had participated in choir, instrumental music, dance, and the different musical experiences we shared while I was there.

One of the things that meant the most to me was realizing how much of the music they still remembered. Some of the girls from the children’s home who were also students of Happy Life Christian School sang songs I had sung with them years earlier. Both the boys and girls remembered dances and movements I had taught them for the Kenya Music Festival. There were even songs they remembered that I did not immediately remember myself. I was also told that after I returned to the United States in 2018, some of the choir songs continued to be sung by those same children for years as they were growing up.

Learning that gave me another way of looking at what had happened while I was away. The students had continued singing the music even though I was no longer there, and some of those songs had remained part of their experience growing up at Happy Life. Hearing them again in 2026 brought back memories for me, but it also showed me that the music had become something they remembered and continued sharing beyond the time when I was physically there teaching them.

Seeing the students again gave me another perspective before I had the opportunity to fully understand what had happened with the music program during those eight years. The formal structure may not have developed exactly as I had imagined, but the musical experiences had still remained with many of the students who were part of that first season. For me, that became an important place to begin as I started learning more about where music education at Happy Life was in 2026.

What I Thought I Was Building

When I think back to the work I did in 2018, I know that I was not only thinking about what I could teach while I was physically at Happy Life. I was also thinking about what could continue after I returned to the United States. I wanted the students to have an opportunity to keep learning music, and I wanted the teachers who came after me to have something they could use to help make that possible.

I had already seen some of that foundation begin to take shape through choir, recorder and instrumental instruction, and participation in the Kenya Music Festival. Students were moving from learning basic musical concepts into ensemble and performance experiences, which helped me believe an after-school program could continue giving future students similar opportunities to grow.

My work was also happening during a period of change in Kenya’s education system. Music existed within the national education structure, but under the 8-4-4 system it was no longer a compulsory or examinable subject at the primary level, and Kenya was beginning its transition into the competency-based curriculum.

At Happy Life specifically, Music and Creative Arts were not being taught during the regular school day in the way I later saw them being taught in 2026. The curriculum I developed was therefore intended to support an after-school music program, not replace something already happening during school hours. It gave students another opportunity to learn music fundamentals, begin reading music, play instruments, sing together, and prepare for performance experiences.

The materials I left were part of how I hoped that work could continue. I wrote curriculum, organized instructional resources, and left sheet music at different levels. Some students had already begun learning note values, basic notation, and keyboard skills. I also spent a great deal of time documenting what we had done because I did not want everything to depend on someone remembering what I had taught or trying to recreate it later. I wanted the teachers to have something written that they could refer to as students continued developing their skills. At the time, I believed the curriculum, resources, documentation, and teachers connected to the program gave the work a good foundation for continuing. I still believe documenting it was the right decision.

Music Had Not Disappeared

Coming back eight years later also meant understanding that a lot of life had changed while I was away. Happy Life had continued growing, which meant there were more students, more responsibilities, and more areas that needed attention. I was glad to learn that the music materials I left in 2018 had been protected and that some of the curriculum had been used after I initially returned to the United States. I was grateful to know that the work had been preserved and that the original materials were still available for the teachers and leadership to use rather than having to begin all over again.

As I spent more time at Happy Life Children’s Home and School, I also realized that music had not disappeared. It had taken a different shape from what I remembered in 2018. The school had developed a clubs program that met during school hours on Wednesdays, with music as one of the options available to students. The minister of music from the mission’s main church location was involved with the music club, and a local saxophonist was also helping with instrumental instruction. Music was being taught during the regular school day through the Creative Arts curriculum by a licensed teacher.

What encouraged me most was seeing how much support there was around the vision. The principal, Teacher Peter, wanted students to have opportunities to develop their talents and skills, and the teachers working with music were passionate about what they were doing. They did not need me to come in and become the person responsible for the program. There were already people there who cared about the students and wanted to see the music grow.

My perspective on the return began to shift as I saw more of what was already happening. Instead of focusing on what I thought should have been there by 2026, I could begin looking at what was there and how the resources from 2018 could support the teachers working with the students now. I was not able to go through everything with them during the time I had there, but the conversations had started. We could begin connecting the earlier work with what Happy Life was already doing and continue those conversations after I returned to the United States.

Making Sure Students Had an Instrument

Adding Creative Arts to the regular school program for music also brought a challenge that had not been anticipated before the school year began. This was Happy Life’s first year incorporating music through the Creative Arts curriculum during the regular school day, and the teacher responsible for that instruction was in his first year at the school. By the time I arrived in the middle of the school year, some students had instruments and others did not. At times, students without recorders used pencils to practice their finger placement, but they still needed their own instruments to participate fully without having to share recorders.

I initially purchased 20 recorders and worked with the music teacher to identify students who needed them. I quickly realized that the need was much larger when one class alone nearly required all of the recorders I had purchased. I shared what was happening through Facebook Live and social media and asked others to help while I was still in Kenya. Since the recorders could be purchased locally for less than three U.S. dollars each, even smaller contributions could make a difference. The response provided enough support for another 100 recorders. Combined with the 20 I had already purchased, 120 students were able to receive individual recorders, with 25 additional recorders available for the school as the program continued. Altogether, 145 recorders were provided to help support music instruction at Happy Life.

For me, the support was about more than purchasing instruments. It helped remove a barrier during the school’s first year of music instruction and gave students a better opportunity to participate in what their teachers were already building.

A Few Recorder Sessions Showed Me What Was Possible

One of the opportunities I had while at Happy Life was working with a group of students in Grades 4 through 6 who had already been identified by their music teacher as students who could progress at a faster pace. He had been working with them throughout the school year and knew their abilities much better than I did. My time with them became a way to build on what he was already seeing and give the students an opportunity to move a little further with the recorder. Our time together was short. We had only a few sessions, and each one was less than 30 minutes, so I had to work within what the students already understood and make the most of the time we had. They were not yet reading notes independently from the staff, so I wrote the letter names of the notes on the board along with their note values. This allowed us to work on fingering, rhythm, counting, tempo, and playing together without spending most of the session introducing something they had not yet reached in their regular music instruction.

The students responded quickly as I introduced additional notes. They were able to apply the new fingerings while also paying attention to the value of each note. I could see that they were not only memorizing where their fingers needed to go. They were beginning to connect what they were seeing on the board with how long the notes needed to be played and how those notes fit within the music. One of my favorite moments came while we were working on “Ode to Joy.” I divided the students into two groups so that one group could play one part while the other played a different part. Instead of everyone playing the same melody together, they had to listen to another note being played beside them while continuing to hold their own part, and they were able to do it.

Seeing them play in harmony in such a short amount of time was encouraging, especially because this was still very early in their recorder instruction. They listened, stayed with the notes they had been given, and began experiencing what it meant to contribute one musical part to a larger sound. Their ability to do that confirmed what their teacher had already recognized about them and gave me an opportunity to see their potential for myself. I was proud of what they accomplished, but I was also looking toward what could happen next. Their teacher would continue working with them after I left, and the short time we had together gave him another place from which he could continue developing their skills.

The experience also helped me see the recorder differently within the larger vision for music at Happy Life. It was not simply an introductory instrument students could learn for a class or performance. The recorder could become one of the places where they begin developing the musical foundation they will need for what comes next.

Why the Recorder Matters Beyond the Recorder

The more I thought about the recorder, the more I saw how useful it could be as part of a larger music program at Happy Life. It gives students a practical way to learn music fundamentals through group instruction while developing skills that can later support other instruments and ensembles. Happy Life already has some modern instruments available. Some students are learning instruments such as saxophone, and the school also has bass guitars, flutes, and other instruments that can support future development. Some are already being used, while others need repair or more consistent instruction before they can be used more widely. More students need the musical foundation first, which will prepare them to use modern instruments later.

The recorder can become one of the places where that preparation begins. Students who develop more quickly can move into recorder ensemble work and continue strengthening their skills before gradually transitioning into other instruments. Other students can continue developing at their own pace until they are ready for the next level. This also gives teachers another way to recognize where students are and what they may be ready to do next.

One of the things that matters most to me within that progression is music literacy. Learning a song is important, but I also want students to understand enough of the music that they can apply what they have learned to something new. During the recorder sessions, using note letters and note values gave the students a way to work within what they already knew. As they continue developing, I want them to gradually move from those supports toward reading standard music notation more independently.

The same foundation can support choir, keyboard, and other instruments. Choir students can learn to recognize pitches, understand rhythm, and hear how their part fits with other voices, while keyboard can help students connect written notes with the pitches they hear. The fingering for the recorder will not be the same as flute, clarinet, saxophone, or brass, but the basic language of music can continue with them as they move into something new.

My hope is not simply to see more students holding instruments or performing songs they have memorized. I want them to understand the music well enough that what they are learning becomes a skill they can continue using, whether they remain with the recorder, join the choir, move to keyboard, begin another instrument, or eventually become part of a larger ensemble.

Students at Happy Life in Juja Farm, Kenya, stand onstage playing recorders together while their instructor, Teacher Kennedy, directs their performance of “Nothing But The Blood of Jesus”

What Sustainability Means to Me Now

Returning to Happy Life helped me understand sustainability differently than I did in 2018. At the time, I believed documenting the curriculum, leaving resources, and staying connected with the teachers would give the program enough of a foundation to continue. I still believe those things were important, and I would make the same decision to document the work again. The curriculum work was still available for use, which meant we did not have to start over and recreate everything that had already been developed. What has changed for me is understanding that documentation is only one part of keeping a program going. Curriculum still needs teachers who can use it, resources need to be connected with instruction, and communication has to continue as people and circumstances change. I did not think about all of those pieces in the same way when I first left.

Communication is one area where I have already changed my approach. In 2018, I stayed connected with individual teachers and believed those relationships would be enough to help me continue supporting the work from the United States. During my 2026 visit, the director, principal, music teachers, and I were brought together in one WhatsApp group. Having everyone connected in the same place gives us a better way to share information, ask questions, discuss resources, and keep the communication connected to the school even when individual roles change.

My role has also become clearer to me. The educators at Happy Life are the ones working with the students throughout the year, and I do not want the music program to depend on me being physically present in Kenya or on teachers waiting for me to provide their instruction. I can remain connected, share what I know, provide resources when they are helpful, and support the direction of the work while the teachers and leadership continue developing the program over time.

The Program Belongs to Happy Life

Another part of sustainability is recognizing that the music program belongs to Happy Life. The school has its own leadership, teachers, students, goals, and vision for where the program can go. My role, and the role of anyone coming from outside the school to support the work, should be to strengthen what is already being developed rather than take ownership of it or redirect it according to our own ideas. I also believe cultural and educational exchange should begin with listening. Someone coming from another country may have experience, training, or access to resources that can be helpful, but they are also entering a different educational and cultural environment. Taking time to understand what the teachers are already doing, what the school wants to develop, and where support is actually needed creates a better place for collaboration.

“I believe cultural and educational eschange shild begin with listening.”

For me, that kind of exchange should work both ways. Visiting educators can share ideas and specialized knowledge while also learning from the teachers, students, and community they are coming to support. Anything contributed from outside Happy Life should strengthen the direction the school has already chosen and help build something that remains with the school after an individual visitor or supporter is no longer directly involved.

Investing in Music Education

The recorder experience also helped me think more about what it means to invest in music education. Providing an instrument can be an important part of that investment when the instrument itself is preventing a student from participating, which was the immediate challenge we were trying to address with the recorders. But providing instruments by itself does not create a sustainable music program.

The situation with Happy Life’s modern instruments is different. The school already has a number of instruments that were donated about a year or so ago, and some are being used by students who have begun receiving instruction. Others will become more useful as the instructional structure grows, repairs are made where needed, and more students develop the musical foundation required to use them well.

• Sheet music is one of those needs. If students are going to become stronger readers and eventually perform in different ensembles, they need music that allows them to progress through different levels. Repair resources are also important because the instruments already available need to remain in working condition if they are going to continue serving students over time.
• Continued teacher support is another important part of the larger picture. I believe there could eventually be value in funding a music educator who can help work with Happy Life’s leadership and teachers on a two- to three-year development plan that supports instruction, ensemble growth, student progression, and the overall structure of the program.

For me, investing in music education means looking beyond the instrument itself and considering the instruction, music, teachers, maintenance, and structure that allow students to grow. An instrument can provide an opportunity, but the education around it is what allows a student to make meaningful use of that opportunity.

“An instrument can provide an opportunity, but the education around it is what allows a student to make meaninful use of that opportunity.“

A Larger Vision, Built One Stage at a Time

When I think about where music education at Happy Life can go from here, I see the program continuing to grow in stages. The recorder is one part of that beginning, but the larger vision also includes choir, keyboard, smaller instrumental ensembles, performance opportunities, and eventually more developed concert experiences. Some of those areas can continue growing before there is a full band or larger ensemble. A recorder ensemble can give students another opportunity to strengthen their reading and ensemble skills, while choir can continue developing harmony and music literacy. Keyboard can also support that progression by helping students connect pitch, notation, and what they hear. As students become more prepared, smaller instrumental groups can begin forming around the instruments already available at the school. I was able to see a glimpse of what this could look like while I was there.

There were moments when choir, keyboard, bass, and drums were already working together, which helped me see how the different parts of the music program could eventually become more connected as students and teachers have more time to develop them. Performance opportunities can also become part of that growth. During my visit, I saw students participate in a talent showcase connected with the church, giving them an opportunity to perform in front of an audience and work toward something together. The Kenya Music Festival can also continue providing students and teachers with goals to work toward as their skills develop. I do not see competition as the only measure of success, but it can remain one opportunity for students to apply what they are learning and grow through the experience.

Over time, I can see smaller ensembles developing into groups that can perform for school, church, and community events, while larger concert opportunities become possible as more students develop the skills needed to participate. The broader vision shared at Happy Life also includes the development of a performing arts center, which could eventually create even more opportunities for students to develop and share their abilities in music and the performing arts.

I do not expect the larger vision to happen all at once. My return in 2026 helped me understand more clearly that each stage depends on what is developed before it. The work happening with recorder, music literacy, choir, keyboard, and the instruments already available can become part of a much larger program over time as the teachers and students continue building from one stage to the next.

What I Hope to See When I Return

When I think about returning to Happy Life in 2027, I am not expecting to see the entire vision already developed. I am looking forward to seeing what has continued since my 2026 visit and where the students and teachers have been able to make progress during that time. I would love to see more students learning music and the recorder work continuing to grow. I want to see students becoming more confident reading the music in front of them, developing better technique, and showing a stronger understanding of rhythm, note values, and how their individual part fits within an ensemble. I would also like to see some students beginning to move forward when their teachers determine they are ready for additional musical opportunities.

For me, progress in 2027 would also mean seeing the teachers continuing the work and making greater use of the resources already available to them. I want to learn what has worked during the year, where they have seen students grow, what challenges they have encountered, and what additional support might be useful as they continue developing the program. I would also love to hear students performing different kinds of music. I want them to experience classical music while also learning and performing music from their own country and culture. More than simply preparing songs for a performance, I hope they are continuing to grow in their understanding of the music and becoming more confident in what they are able to do.

When I left Happy Life in 2018, I thought a lot about what I could leave behind so that more children could continue learning music. Returning in 2026 helped me understand that the curriculum, instruments, and resources are only part of what makes that possible. The teachers, administrators, directors, and others who care for the students and continue supporting their education are what allow those resources to become something meaningful.

I still believe in the vision I had in 2018, but I understand my role in supporting it differently now. When I return in 2027, I hope to see the next part of that growth taking shape through the students, teachers, and the work they have continued throughout the year. From there, we can better understand what the next stage should be as the music program continues to grow with them.

Learn More About Happy Life

Happy Life Mission’s work extends beyond the music experiences I have shared here. To learn more about Happy Life Children’s Home, its schools, and its work supporting children through rescue, education, and health care, visit the official Happy Life Mission website at happylifemission.org.

Photos and Video by Kennesha

The post Eight Years Later: Returning to Music Education at Happy Life (Kenya – July 2026) appeared first on Missionary Kennesha.

For two weeks during the summer of 2026 (June), I spent time in Kangemi, Nairobi, Kenya, working alongside teachers and students at Grace Harvest Academy & Junior School. I went there with a simple goal: to share knowledge, support teachers, and help strengthen digital literacy in a practical and sustainable way.

Once I began working directly with the teachers and observing the needs of the computer lab, the mission began to take shape in ways I had not fully planned before arriving.

From the beginning, my primary focus was not to become the students’ main technology teacher. I knew my time at the school was temporary, and I did not want the work to depend on whether I was physically there. The heart of the mission became a train-the-trainer model, where I could invest in the teachers who would continue working with their students after I returned home.

I began by helping the teachers strengthen their own digital skills, explore educational resources, and think about how technology could be incorporated into lessons they were already teaching. Students were later brought into the computer lab while their teachers were present, allowing the teachers to observe, participate, ask questions, and eventually continue the instruction themselves. I wanted my role to be one of support by modeling effective practices, helping establish a foundation, and providing resources the teachers could continue using after I returned to the United States.

Starting With the Teachers

Before bringing students into the computer lab, the teachers needed an opportunity to use the space as learners themselves. They were given dedicated time without learners so they could become more comfortable with the computers. We worked on typing, navigating online resources, exploring educational activities, and understanding how different digital tools could be incorporated into classroom instruction.

Typing became one of our starting points because using a computer is different from using a mobile phone. Someone may be comfortable navigating a smartphone and still need practice using a keyboard, mouse, browser, computer interface, and the other features required to complete work on a desktop computer.

The digital assignments students complete in the future may require them to type responses, navigate programs, follow written instructions, conduct research, enter information, create projects, and save or manage digital work. Instead of moving immediately into more advanced technology activities, I wanted the teachers to strengthen the foundational skills that would help them guide students through those experiences and then help their students develop those same skills.

Working through that process reinforced something I continued to see throughout my time in the lab: digital literacy involves much more than placing someone in front of a computer. Students and teachers need opportunities to progressively learn how the technology works, become comfortable using it, and understand how to use it for a purpose. This became development part of the foundation for the Keyboarding Mastery Progression Framework. The framework grew from what I was observing in the school rather than having a developed structure already completed.

Teachers Exploring as Learners First

Another part of the teacher training involved exploring online educational resources. The teachers were given time to look through digital science activities and identify resources that connected with what they were already teaching. Each teacher selected an activity and presented it to the group.

I did not want to simply arrive with a collection of websites and tell teachers what they should use. Giving them time to explore the resources for themselves allowed them to consider how an activity might actually work with their students. They could think about which concepts it reinforced, what they would need to explain beforehand, how students might interact with it, and what challenges could arise once an entire class entered the computer lab. In that way, the teachers were not only receiving resources. They were beginning to evaluate them from the perspective of their own classrooms.

These knowledge-sharing sessions also created an opportunity for teachers to learn from one another. Instead of professional development functioning only as information moving from me to the teachers, educators could share what they discovered, explain why they selected a resource, and discuss how it might support classroom instruction. As a result, the collaborative process became part of what I now recognize as the beginning of the Founding Educator Cohort at Grace Harvest Academy & Junior School. Their participation informed the curriculum and instructional resources that developed from the mission, including the learning objectives, success criteria, implementation ideas, and practical approaches that would later be incorporated into the Keyboarding Mastery Progression Framework and Digital Classroom Companions.

Although much of our initial exploration focused on science, the larger application was not limited to one subject. Digital resources can support English, Kiswahili, mathematics, social studies, science, creative learning, and other areas of the curriculum. Once teachers understand how to identify, evaluate, introduce, and manage a digital resource, they can adapt that process according to the subjects and grade levels they teach.

I wanted the teachers to begin seeing the computer lab as more than a separate room where students go to “learn computers.” With the right planning, it can become another instructional resource that supports learning throughout the school.

Connecting Digital Learning With Hands-On Technology

We also spent time exploring hands-on technology through micro:bits. Before expecting teachers to introduce unfamiliar equipment to students, I wanted them to have an opportunity to handle the devices themselves. They learned how to connect a micro:bits to the computer, follow instructions on the screen, use the buttons, and respond to actions such as shaking and tilting the device.

Through those activities, they were able to see the connection between physical movement, programming, and digital feedback. It also gave them an introduction to the type of learning that can happen when students are allowed to experiment rather than simply watch a demonstration or complete a worksheet. Students can press something, test an idea, make a mistake, adjust what they are doing, and observe what happens next. Teachers need space to go through that process themselves before they are responsible for guiding learners through it.

Allowing teachers to become familiar with the equipment also helps them manage it more confidently. They have a better understanding of how devices should be connected, handled, used, and stored, which becomes especially important when resources are limited and need to be maintained for future classes.

As I evaluated the school’s existing technology resources, micro:bits also became one of the areas I identified for future expansion. They could provide students with additional opportunities to explore computer programming, physical computing, problem-solving, and engineering concepts as the school continues developing its technology program.

A Computer Lab Needs More Than Computers

As the work continued, supporting digital literacy also meant looking beyond educational games and activities. Grace Harvest Academy & Junior School has a 14-computer laboratory, but having computers available does not automatically mean the lab is ready to function as a consistent instructional environment. Part of my work became standardizing and organizing those computers so teachers and students could use them more effectively. I worked through the machines to create more consistent software configurations, remove unnecessary applications, organize instructional software, and establish separate student, teacher, and administrator accounts. The goal was to make the computers easier to manage while also reducing the likelihood that students could accidentally install programs or make changes that affected the entire system.

Those changes were connected to a larger concern I had about sustainability. A school computer lab needs procedures for how software is installed, who is allowed to make system changes, how online educational resources are maintained, and who is responsible for routine oversight. For that reason, I also began developing recommendations for ongoing computer-lab management. This included identifying teachers who could serve as technology leaders within the school, establishing clearer software governance procedures, and creating a process for reviewing and maintaining the online instructional resources teachers use with students.

Students also need to understand what responsible computer-lab use looks like. Waiting for instructions, taking turns, handling equipment carefully, remaining on the assigned activity, and properly closing programs when a lesson is finished are all skills that support a functioning digital-learning environment. Digital literacy includes learning how to navigate technology, but it also includes learning how to use shared technology responsibly.

Looking at the Technology Infrastructure as a System

Working in the lab also required me to think beyond individual computers and look at the school’s technology infrastructure as a larger system. The school already had several important foundations in place, including computers, a computer lab, a network, internet access, a projector, teachers willing to learn, and leadership that recognized the importance of digital literacy. Once those resources began being used more intentionally, it also became easier to see where future improvements could strengthen the system.

One of those areas was power stability.

Because computer-based instruction depends on reliable electricity, I recommended that the school consider uninterruptible power supplies, or UPS units, as a future infrastructure improvement. A UPS can provide temporary backup power and additional protection for computers when electricity is interrupted, helping reduce disruptions during instruction and supporting the long-term care of the equipment. This recommendation came as a result of experiencing a power outage right before the first class came to the computer. I also encouraged the school to continue expanding hands-on technology resources such as micro:bits and to think about sustainable technical-support practices as the computer lab grows.

Those recommendations were not based on the idea that everything needed to be replaced or rebuilt. I wanted to look at what the school already had, identify where the system was vulnerable, and help create a clearer pathway for future development.

Modeling Before Students Begin

One resource the school already had was a projector, and it became useful in thinking about how teachers could introduce digital activities before students began working independently.

When students are still learning how to navigate computers, being able to see the teacher demonstrate an activity can make the process easier to understand. Instead of immediately placing students at individual computers and expecting them to determine what to do, the teacher can first demonstrate the process for the entire class. Students can see where to click, hear the instructions, understand the purpose of the activity, ask questions, and then move to the computers with a clearer understanding of what they are expected to accomplish. This was part of the larger approach I wanted to communicate throughout the professional learning sessions. Technology integration works best when the technology supports the instructional goal instead of becoming the lesson by itself.

Digital literacy is not measured simply by having access to a computer. Students should gradually learn how to use the tool, understand why they are using it, retain what they learn through the activity, and eventually apply that knowledge to other assignments and projects.

Bringing the Students Into the Process

After the teachers had time to explore the resources themselves, students were brought into the computer lab with their teachers. Students practiced using the computers, navigating activities, following instructions, sharing equipment, and working with one another. At the same time, teachers could observe what their students understood easily, where they struggled, what questions emerged, and how the digital activities could be managed within the realities of their own classrooms.

This was how I wanted the train-the-trainer model to function. I was not teaching the students separately while their teachers remained outside of the experience. The teachers were learning alongside their students and seeing firsthand what technology integration could look like in their own school. My role was to model and provide initial support. Their role was to take what was useful, continue developing it, and adapt the process according to the needs of their learners. By strengthening teacher capacity instead of centering the work around an outside technology instructor, the computer lab could gradually become a resource that supported different areas of learning throughout the school.

Building With What Was Already There

Grace Harvest Academy & Junior School already had several pieces that could support continued digital learning. What was needed was a way to bring those pieces together more intentionally. Having computers is only the beginning of developing a digital-learning environment: teachers need training, students need practice, procedures need to be established, educational resources need to be identified, equipment needs to be maintained, and someone needs to know how software and accounts are managed. As the lab is used more consistently, the school can also gain a clearer understanding of where additional technology, technical support, or professional development may be needed.

There were limitations during my time there. Students sometimes needed to share computers and rotate through activities, and the computer lab did not have the equipment to accommodate. I am a strong believer, however, in beginning with the resources that are already available. It may be uncomfortable at the beginning, but we do not always have to wait until everything is perfect before we start. Sometimes, the first step is organizing what is already there, using it responsibly, learning what works, identifying what needs improvement, and building from that foundation. I believe that when we are faithful with the resources God has already provided, He can create opportunities for more.

By maximizing the computers currently available, strengthening the systems surrounding them, and developing teacher capacity alongside the technology itself, Grace Harvest Academy & Junior School can continue building student access while also identifying more clearly what resources will be needed next.

When the Mission Started Becoming Documentation

As I continued working with the teachers, I also began thinking about what would happen once I was no longer standing in the computer lab with them. A short visit can introduce ideas, demonstrate resources, and provide professional learning, but I wanted the teachers to have something they could return to after I left. This led me to begin documenting what was developing through our work together. The school did not require me to write a keyboarding framework or create a Digital Classroom Companion. I decided to develop a documented work because I could see a need long-term need during my visit for what the teachers could continue to use after our sessions. One of those resources became the Keyboarding Mastery Progression Framework, or KMPF.

The more I observed students and teachers using the computers, the more I began thinking about keyboarding as a progression rather than a single activity that everyone should approach in the same way. Students at different grade levels have different developmental needs. Younger learners may first need keyboard recognition, finger awareness, and basic navigation. As they progress, students can gradually build letter-key familiarity, strengthen accuracy, expand their reach across the keyboard, and eventually move toward touch typing.

From those observations, I designed and developed the KMPF as a vertically aligned, mastery-based keyboarding curriculum spanning Preschool through Grade 9. Its purpose was to give teachers a sustainable structure for digital-literacy instruction rather than treating keyboarding as an isolated skill taught only when students happened to enter the computer lab. The framework also grew through collaboration with the teachers. What I observed in the lab, what educators experienced during professional learning, and the needs that emerged across grade levels helped standardize the framework’s learning objectives, success criteria, implementation model, and instructional resources. It made the KMPF a way of organizing and preserving what had developed through the work of the Founding Educator Cohort and providing a structure the school could continue adapting as its digital-literacy program matured.

From Teacher Exploration to the Digital Classroom Companion

The same approach influenced the development of the Digital Classroom Companions. The teachers had already done much of the foundational work during the professional learning sessions. They explored digital activities, selected resources, considered how those resources connected with what they were teaching, and presented activities to one another. Rather than allowing that work to remain only within the training sessions, I began organizing and documenting what we had explored together.

The activities selected by the teachers became the foundation for what developed into the Digital Science Classroom Companion. Instead of creating a book separately from the school experience, the companion grew to preserve the activities they had explored, document the learning connections behind those activities, and give them a reference they could use when incorporating the resources into future lessons. This same work later expanded into additional Digital Classroom Companion development, including resources using the PhET Interactive Simulations for upper grade levels.

Over time, I could see how the different pieces connected. The Keyboarding Mastery Progression Framework documented how foundational computer skills could develop progressively across grade levels. The Digital Classroom Companions documented ways digital resources could be connected to classroom learning. The computer-lab procedures helped establish a more stable environment in which those resources could actually be used. Teacher professional learning connected all of those pieces by developing the people who would be responsible for carrying the work forward. Together, they became part of a larger system for strengthening digital learning rather than a collection of separate projects.

Building Sustainable Capacity

As I continued looking at everything we had worked on together, I kept coming back to what the teachers would actually need once I was no longer there. Leaving equipment behind would not be enough if teachers did not feel comfortable using it. Sharing websites would not be enough if no one remembered why a particular resource had been selected or how it connected to what students were learning. Even the curriculum resources I was beginning to develop would only be useful if they could become part of something the teachers understood and could continue using.  I wanted the professional learning, computer-lab organization, instructional resources, and teacher involvement to support one another.

During the knowledge-sharing sessions, teachers had time to strengthen their own computer skills and explore educational technology before using those resources with students. When they later entered the lab with their learners, they were able to see how the activities worked in practice and begin making their own observations about what their students needed. As we worked through the computer lab itself, I also began looking at what would help the technology remain usable over time, including how accounts were managed, how software changes were handled, how instructional resources could be maintained, and which teachers could take greater responsibility for supporting the lab.

I knew I could continue providing guidance after returning to the United States, but I did not want the school to need me in order for the computers to be used or for digital learning to continue. The stronger approach was to help the teachers become increasingly comfortable with the resources and to put enough structure around the lab that they could continue making decisions within their own school.

This also shaped how I viewed the Keyboarding Mastery Progression Framework and the Digital Classroom Companions. I did not want to create materials that only documented what I had done. I wanted them to document what had developed through the work with the teachers and give them something practical to return to as they continued teaching.

The more these pieces came together, the more I began to understand sustainable capacity as something built over time. It was happening as teachers practiced new skills, shared resources, worked alongside their students, learned how the lab functioned, and gained tools that could help them continue without needing an outside educator standing beside them.

Knowing My Role

Working in Kangemi also helped me think more carefully about what my role should be as the instructional methods continue. There were things I could see that needed attention and areas where my own experience allowed me to provide that practical support in digital literacy and educational technology integration. I could help organize the computers, develop instructional systems, create curriculum resources, introduce hands-on tools, and make recommendations based on what I observed while using the lab with teachers and students. At the same time, being able to identify a need does not mean I have to be the person who meets every part of it.

As I looked more closely at the school’s technology infrastructure, some areas could eventually benefit from people with deeper technical or specialized experience. Additional support may be needed as the network develops, as more equipment is added, or as the school begins exploring more advanced areas of programming, STEM, and educational technology. There may also be educators who can bring knowledge from other subject areas and help teachers find even more ways to connect the computer lab with what students are learning throughout the school.

For me, recognizing that does not lessen what I was able to contribute. It helps me understand where my contribution fits. I could help begin the process, work alongside the teachers, organize what was already available, document what we were developing, and make some of the needs more visible. From there, I can continue supporting the school while also helping connect the work with people who may have resources or expertise that can strengthen areas beyond my own.

I hope this part of the journey helps in documenting this experience. When people can see what the teachers are already doing, what resources the school already has, and where additional support could make a difference, there is an opportunity for others to contribute without overlooking or replacing the work that has already begun.

I do not want the story of Grace Harvest Academy & Junior School’s digital development to become a story about what one person came to Kenya and did. I would rather see it become a story about teachers who were willing to learn, a school that was willing to build with what it had, and people with different knowledge and resources coming alongside them as that work continues.

The Work Continues

When I think about my time at Grace Harvest Academy & Junior School, I do not want the value of the work to be measured only by what happened while I was physically there. I think more about what the teachers are able to continue building from what we started together. The train-the-trainer approach became important during the mission because I wanted the teachers to have time to develop their own confidence with the technology, explore resources before introducing them to students, and see how those tools could support the subjects they were already teaching. When students later came into the lab, the teachers remained part of the process and were able to observe how their students responded, where they needed help, and how the activities could be used again in their own classrooms.

After I returned home, I continued thinking about what resources could help support the teachers beyond the time we had spent together. The Keyboarding Mastery Progression Framework and Digital Classroom Companions were not requirements of the mission, and I did not create them simply to document what I had accomplished. I developed them because I wanted to preserve what had already begun with the teachers and give them something practical they could continue referring to as they strengthened digital learning at the school.

The work we did with the computer lab, teacher professional learning, curriculum resources, and technology recommendations all connected to the same goal. I wanted the school to have more than a temporary experience with technology. I wanted the teachers to have resources and systems they could continue using, adjusting, and building upon according to the needs of their students.

My visit to Kangemi had an ending, but I never saw that as the end of my connection to the work. The teachers would still be there with their students. The computer lab would still need to be used and maintained. Students would still need opportunities to strengthen their typing, navigation, problem-solving, and digital learning skills. As the school continues using the resources already available, the teachers will also be able to see more clearly where additional support, equipment, or training may be needed.

For me, continuing to support Grace Harvest Academy & Junior School does not mean remaining at the center of everything that happens next. I can stay connected, provide guidance when it is useful, continue developing resources, and help support opportunities that strengthen what the teachers and school are already building.

Through this experience, equipping teachers and inspiring learners came to mean more than what I could personally teach during a short visit. I wanted to help strengthen the teachers, resources, and systems that could allow the learning to continue after I returned home.

Kennesha

To learn more about Grace Harvest Academy and Junior School, visit: https://graceharvestjuniorschool.com/

Photography and Videography by M. Bolden

Videography by Rufas Shilenje

The post Building Beyond the Visit: Equipping Teachers and Strengthening Digital Literacy in Kangemi (Kenya – June/July 2026) appeared first on Missionary Kennesha.

Mission to Kenya has always represented more than travel. It reflects a long-term commitment to the creative arts, education, cross-cultural collaboration, and faith-centered cultural preservation. Each return builds on prior relationships, training, and groundwork. This summer, I will expand the mission to include media training, technical support, STEM integration, and a deeper music education engagement. I will also continue strengthening partnerships that help local artists and young creatives gain visibility and support.

In preparation, I have used intentional and strategic methods to communicate the vision and invite partnership.

A Three-Minute Video with Purpose

In December 2025, I recorded a three-minute video and shared it across my social media platforms. I did not prioritize a polished look. I honestly did not follow common marketing formulas designed to capture someone’s attention in the first few seconds. Simply, my goal is to carry the message of missions to those who know me and those who follow this mission to watch and learn from someone they know personally.

I structured the video to explain what I have already established in Kenya, what this upcoming return will accomplish, and what level of financial partnership is needed to continue the work.

After undergoing surgery in December, I found myself with unexpected stillness, which created space for me to cut down a 15- to 20-minute video to 3 minutes. Recovery limited mobility but removed distractions. I used that period intentionally so that supporters could see continuity and defined objectives before the new year. If you can recall, I planned and executed a fundraiser and showcase event in November 2025 in support of upcoming travels using performance in classical piano music. (Click here for the behind-the-scenes)

The initial response to the video remained modest. People sent encouragement and private messages. Some later donated. It was the start of something bigger than what I could imagine.

From Social Media to Broadcast Platform

Less than an hour after I posted the video, Duke White, a childhood friend from my old neighborhood, contacted me via Facebook. He believed in the mission and message and thought that it required a broader exposure, and so invited me to appear on his show, Real Life with Duke White, which streams on GoodVue Network.

GoodVue Network operates across web, mobile, and television applications (Apple, Android, AppleTV, FireTV, Android TV, Roku). The platform’s structure mirrors mainstream streaming services that we are all familiar with, and in such a way that the programming feels professionally positioned. In my case, it was the realization of talking to someone I’ve known since elementary school, which felt like family. Speaking with someone I have known since elementary school brought comfort to the interview. The conversation felt like I was talking to an old friend, while the production remained focused on the mission.

Real Life With Duke White

During the interview, I explained the origin of the mission and the three months I spent in Kenya in 2018. I outlined the defined objectives for summer 2026. I also described how media training intersects with music education in communities where artists lack stable documentation and distribution systems.

Without infrastructure, creative work remains limited to local visibility. Media training addresses that limitation. And as a result, intentional execution in music protects the cultural integrity of the people. Translation preserves meaning as access expands so that broader audiences understand context rather than consume fragments of a culture they are not familiar with.

This cultural expression differs across contexts. Kenyan worship often emphasizes communal celebration, whereas American worship environments may emphasize reflective solemnity. Recognizing those differences allows interpretation to remain accurate rather than comparative. We have to learn that what is different does not make it barbaric.

Following that interview, the GoodVue Network extended an additional opportunity for me to develop a recurring program centered on African worship, music, and cultural interpretation. This program will introduce global audiences to artists and communities in Kenya as the starting point, while providing translated lyrics and contextual understanding so that meaning remains intact as visibility increases.

The structure of the program will allow me to highlight music, explain its theological and cultural foundation, and connect viewers directly to the ongoing mission work on the ground. Rather than functioning as entertainment, the show will operate as educational outreach and sustainable infrastructure for supporting artists and continuing the mission work the Lord would have me to do internationally. I believe it will create a consistent channel through which supporters can engage the mission, understand its progress, and contribute financially in an informed way.

Growing Across the GoodVue Network

Several weeks after the broadcast went live, in which I was featured, the interview advanced into the top 3 of programming across GoodVue Network. Shortly afterward, it moved into the second-ranked position across the entire platform.

Audience engagement drove that movement, which reflects an organic response to a new message about the Gospel. This mission matters, and I believe it matters to enough people that it will strengthen conversations with people, churches, and potential partners who would want to know more and help more.

Building Sustainability

I believe that the three-minute video initiated a new communication phase of broadcasting missions differently. Now, a recurring program that I will host will provide a structured means to expand cultural awareness through music, language, and people groups. It will create regular programming with repeated visibility, which will strengthen the credibility of my message to those I will be supporting in the mission field. I believe it will establish an ongoing means for financial partnership, since each episode will offer an opportunity to explain the mission’s objectives and invite support in a clear and accountable manner. The GoodVue platform, with over 4 million viewers, confirmed such public interest. Each step is contributing to the long-term mission to steward this work with intentionality and visibility. And I praise the LORD for the opportunity to carry His vision!

Will You Support the Mission?

If you have followed this mission so far, your partnership is essential to reaching my long-term goals. Financial contributions support travel, training materials, and collaborative production costs. Introductions to churches and sponsors expand institutional reach. Sharing the broadcast increases informational access.

I am inviting those who believe in this work to contribute financially so that the mission continues with structure and accountability.

Kenya does not represent a seasonal destination. It reflects an ongoing commitment to creative development, cultural preservation, and faith-informed partnership that extends beyond.

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I created Echoes of Hope: A Night of Music and Missions to formally document a moment where several parts of my journey came together. This was the first time I structured an event around music as a means of fundraising and mission awareness, and I approached it with intention rather than experimentation.

I wanted to show how music could support understanding the arts and impact in other countries, and explain how my mission back to Kenya could be explained in a way people could relate to and support by someone they already knew. I wanted the evening to feel grounded and accessible, with music serving as a bridge to missions, rather than a showcase.

The idea for this approach originated in June 2025, when I had the opportunity to practice piano at a local church, as I did not own a piano at the time. I went there simply because I missed playing. Returning to the piano brought comfort and familiarity, as it had long been a place where I could release pressure and express what I could not always articulate with words.

During that season of practice, the Lord gave me the idea of using music to support mission work. At that point, it was not a strategy, only a direction that required time and clarity. Over the following months, I worked through what it would take to shape that idea responsibly.

Classical piano was my deliberate choice because it represents the foundation of my musical journey and the skill I already possess. I presented the music alongside a mission presentation to establish credibility and context. Many people were unaware of my musical background because those skills were more visible earlier in my life. Bringing them forward again allowed the work to be seen more fully and honestly.

The balance mattered to me. I wanted people to understand that my skills are real and developed, and that my purpose for missions is intentional rather than aspirational. I have already traveled to Kenya, worked in the same area where my skills apply, and seen documented results. The music and the mission belonged in the same space.

Between June and November 2025, I planned the event with care, supported by family and friends. When the event took place in November 2025, it combined a classical piano program with a presentation outlining mission work beginning in 2018 and the direction ahead.

When I performed, I felt prepared. The size of the audience did not matter. I showed up to do what I believed I had been instructed to do, and I did so with peace.

When I spoke about past missions, I also shared something that matters deeply to me. African Americans are needed and wanted in Africa. There is openness, recognition, and space for meaningful contribution. We are not returning without purpose.

This event mattered to me because I took the initiative and was led by His Holy Spirit to run with the idea, use my musical skills, and work towards making it a reality when the concept of event planning was uncommon for me. I believe that this event marked a moment of accountability rather than the completion of a project. The mission is just beginning. I am at the cusp of something new. As I continue to prepare for my future work in Kenya, this mission event remains a reminder that a mission can be achieved, documented, and make a lasting impact on those who experience the journey and support it as well.

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As I prepared to speak, I was reminded of just how much was accomplished during that time. The work, the connections, the divine appointments. All of it felt like a story so perfectly crafted it could’ve been a film. Looking back, I now see how intricately God wove together each moment. Even the small, quirky ways He chose to reveal Himself to me, now hilarious in hindsight, carried so much meaning.

As I pieced together the timeline of events, it became clear: the journey itself was the message. The unfolding of each moment told a story of faith, purpose, and God’s unmistakable presence. I didn’t expect to do so much. The stories, the laughs, the tears, and the songs sung let me know that Kenya is where I am supposed to be. I am supposed to impact a continent in various ways. Things that had not crossed my mind to do are happening now. By God’s grace, I am making a change in the lives of others because God wants to see that change. I am just a vessel He chose to do it through.

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I am happy to announce that I have completed my first solo mission to Kenya! The 2.5-month journey took place from June 2018 to August 2018, and it propelled me to believe and trust in God far beyond what I had ever experienced. I have plenty of stories and videos to share. You will find so much to read and watch on this website.

I pray that my journey in Kenya was more than just an inspiration to you all. I pray that it has encouraged you to know that God can use you right where you are and with what you have. What seems small and weak in the eyes of others is mighty in strength and faith to God. When things seem uncertain, that’s when God shows the way. I still believe I’m on a journey of discovering who God is now that I’m back. I also believe that my personal life is changing. Going to Kenya and not knowing anyone was pretty brave to do. But I believe God wanted me to go. I experienced up close how God wanted me to help Happy Life Children’s Home. I didn’t understand the depths of what I needed to do until I got there. And to be honest, you won’t know until you are positioned in the place where it is needed. Imagine….. Waking up every day, depending on God on what He wants you to do, and you move your life in what He shows you. Now, imagine doing that in your own country daily.

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