My Trip to Death Row

For our second day of ministry, the majority of the team worked in the village during their weekly market, but my teammate Keith and I were sent to the prisons.  On past trips our team would do prison ministry just one time during the week, but Morris asked us to visit prisons everyday this time around.  Our team this year was already pretty small but to accommodate this request, we split our school teams into school/prison teams.  This meant only 2 of us went one place or the other.  This would be my first time to work inside an African prison.

I was the only female in our entourage that day and it was a little intimidating.  Our group included myself and Keith, Pastor Morris, Pastor Samson from Kisule, our translator Isaiah and another Mzungu we had met named Brad Harris.  Brad was currently living with his family in Kisumu and attending Samson's church.  His mission is to disciple and encourage existing churches of the area but I'll tell you more about Brad in another post.

My mind that day was occupied with thoughts of what I would say and my eyes were distracted by all the sites we saw out the window on our drive.  Poor Keith had an un-characteristically quiet Julie to contend with that day!  I was trying to be sensitive to cultural differences as well and lay down my loud-American tendacies - especially as a woman with a van full of men headed to a prison full of men.

There was a lot of driving and waiting that day.  First we had to make the one hour trip back into Kisumu.  Then we waited at a local grocery store - a Kenyan Walmart if you will - to wait for the Prison Ministry liason, Pastor Moses.  Morris was with us that day and he invited us to browse the store as we waited.  For those of you who have met Morris, he is a reserved man of few words.  Crusing hair products and magazines with the man was a little surreal!  Oh, and the things I saw on the magazines were bothersome.  One was a fashion magazine called African Woman and some of the blurbs on front were "Abortion: is it Wrong?" and "The Controversy of Multiple Births".  I wished for my own money at that point so I could pick up the magazine and see what they had to say. 

You see, abortion is currently illegal in Kenya but it is currently being considered for cases where the life of the mother is threatened (and yes, American money is pushing that agenda).  I don't want to get all political on my Africa blog, but for those who follow the abortion controversy, you know what a slippery slope this new legislation is for the people of Kenya.  Enough said about that.

Eventually, Moses arrived and we were off to purchase gifts for the prison.  This led us off the beaten path onto narrow city streets filled with commerce of every kind.  It was fascinating that we could fit our van down those streets at all since they were extremely narrow and congested with all manner of vehicle.  To make matters worse, there were periodic ditches dug right into the center of the road - BIG ditches - like the kind that if you ran into one your whole front end would be swallowed into a hole.

After what seemed like a long time hunting down gifts, we finally arrived at the prison.  Sorry, no pictures at this point but maybe in the future Keith will share some of his with me.  We were ushered into the chaplain's office for formal introductions while the inmates were gathering in the courtyard outside.  The chaplain explained that all the men we would be visiting with that morning were condemned either to life in prison or to death.  Those on death row never knew when their time was up until their name was called and they were taken to the gallows.  Condemned men are hung in Kenya.

My job that day was to share my personal testimony and Keith shared the Gospel.  I was told that the leading problem within the prison system was sexual immorality.  That, coupled with the knowledge of my own story, made me scrutinize how far I should go with my testimony.

We were ushered in by armed guards into a wide courtyard.  Surrounding the courtyard were block houses that looked something like small airport hangers with iron doors on the front.  No windows.  We were told that at night, hundreds of men were locked inside their "block" and left in the dark without any resources, or guards, until morning.  Apparently they were given buckets to urinate in, but that was about all.

The prisoners wore stereotypical black and white striped clothing.  Again, a little initimidating to be the only woman in that crowd, but they were kept at a distance and we weren't allowed to mingle.  After more introductions were made, it was my turn to share.  After sitting quietly in the van for so long, it was good to open my mouth and use my voice.  We didn't have a microphone so I had to project my voice loudly for all to hear.  This was also the first time in a long while that I had shared my testimony.  It just felt good to let it out again.  I can only pray that God was in control of my words since I'm not totally sure what I said.  I tried to explain that I too was a prisoner of shame and guilt and had even gone so far as to condemn myself to death (i.e. suicidal tendancies) before crying out to God.  I also emphasized portions of Psalm 18 as it related to my story:

"The cords of death entangled me; the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me. The cords of the grave coiled around me; the snares of death confronted me.

In my distress I called to the LORD; I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice; my cry came before him, into his ears." [vs.4-6]

"He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me.  They confronted me in the day of my disaster, but the LORD was my support.

He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me." [vs.16-19]

I encouraged the men that no matter their circumstances, God could bring their hearts and their souls into "spacious places" if they would only trust in him.  Keith shared the gospel and many men received Jesus that day.  I guess I should explain that there were already many believers within that prison.  They even sang worship songs for us when we arrived.  Hope lived amongst the condemned which was a very cool thing to see.
  

Here's a typical Kenyan security fence...shards of glass mortered onto a fence.  What creative security we choose for ourselves.  Are there prison walls you need to break down with the help of Christ?

 
Our next stop was to what they called the "medium" prison, which was filled with men sentenced for periods of time that would one day be released.  We were told that many of these men came from the surrounding rural areas.  It was a smaller population than the condemned audience, but it was heartbreaking to see how young they all looked.  These were young men who were making bad choices early in life.  I wanted to encourage them to choose differently once they were released.  For this visit I used the Prodigal Son story to frame my testimony.  Again, not totally sure what came out of my mouth, but the point I wanted to emphasize was the restoration displayed in that story.  The son reasons that it would be better to be his father's slave than to continue the life he was living so he decided to beg for a job.  Scripture tells us:
 
"He got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him." [Luke 15:20]
 
I just love that.  The father ran towards him and received him as he was!  This is what God did for me and told them it was what God would do for them.  Again, Keith shared the gospel and men came forward to receive.  There were less restrictions with this group of men so we were able to shake hands and encourage our new brothers before leaving that day.
 
Gratefully, Keith and I were deposited back at the hotel that evening instead of journeying back out to Akala to pick up the rest of the team.  I caught a nap and did some journaling and all was right with the world.  The team came back with great stories from the trails and again we enjoyed worshipping together that night.  Hopefully Dave will have time in his busy work schedule to sit down and tell you about his day.  For me, I can only hope that the story of my messed up life before Jesus helped to bring change to at least one person that day.  I will never see those men again this side of heaven, but I'm hopeful some of them will be there to greet me when I go home to the Lord one day.
 
What a great reunion that will be!
 
- Julie