(Content Warning: Violence against women and girls, FGM)

Good morning friends,

When people persecuted us, it was painful. You might have thought that we would be ready for it, as Jesus promised persecution for everyone who followed him. But when it happened, the pain caught us off-guard.

One of the most helpful things during this time was the example of Jesus Christ. Doing the right thing was hard, but having a path laid out for us somehow made things easier. It reduced the decision anxiety. It made our decision-making meetings unified affairs, rather than fights. One of the residents could invoke the name of Jesus, and we could follow, even if we felt scared.

A girl was in danger. I can’t use her name, so I’ll call her Precious.

The time for the Kuria tribe’s FGM rituals had arrived, and her family was insistent that she be cut and married to an older man as soon as possible.

Using wisdom and determination, one of the QuadW residents (also Kuria tribe) succeeded in getting her to safety. Then, the persecution began.

The Kuria are famous for using machetes, but they started with cutting words. Shame and discouragement can, unfortunately, win in the short-run and also dim someone’s passion in the long-run. And, it’s less messy. Doctors don’t ask questions; the police don’t get involved.

One of Precious’s relatives showed up at the girls camp and went straight to our director, Sarah Wambura (also Kuria tribe). Fueled by alcohol, she harangued her for being a bad Kuria and forsaking their traditions. She went on and on for hours, the insults getting more personal, and she swore that she wouldn’t leave until they gave Precious back.

Finally, she left.

Sarah Wambura said that it hurt, but the only person to fear is God, not cutting words.

Two days later, I got a phone call at 6:30 a.m. Always a bad sign. I was told that Precious’s aunt had been beaten severely by her husband, and that we must return Precious immediately if we didn’t want this to happen again.

At our QuadW Tarime community I immediately gathered as many Kuria folks as I could for an emergency meeting. I could only find my wife, Dinnah Sylvester, and Mwita Baita. At the moment, we couldn’t get Sarah Wambura on the phone.

I explained the situation and then asked, “Well folks… as followers of Christ, what should we do?”

“Jesus protected those under his care, even when persecution was hard, in the garden. So I don’t think we should give up Precious.”

“Yeah, and there are two options. Either this woman needs treatment, or unfortunately, she might be trying to deceive us. Let’s have wisdom like snakes. And also, let’s take good care of anyone who has been hurt.”

“Okay. Let’s get her to the hospital”, I replied. “Who is ready to go out there and check on her?”

“It’s threatening… but I’ll go. Why shouldn’t I go? I don’t think they’ll do anything to me anyways”, said Dinnah.

“You have so much courage, sister”, I said. “Let’s pray for you.”

After almost an hour on a motorcycle, Dinnah arrived at the aunt’s house. “Your welcome, sister… please show me where you’ve been hurt”, Dinnah began. “We need to get you to the hospital. And you won’t pay any expenses, even the travel to get you there.”

“No. No. I don’t want treatment. Just give us Precious. Give us Precious, and this will all be over.”

They talked in circles for a while. Dinnah stayed long enough to confirm that this aunt had never been beaten.

It hurts when we stand and fight for women’s rights, and encounter women fighting back; even using their own vulnerability against us. And of course, this makes it harder to protect the countless women who are genuine victims of gender-based violence.

The next day, 4 female relatives of Precious showed up at the girls camp. Second verse, they shamed and insulted Sarah Wambura and all of the other women working at the girls camp. The insults varied only slightly.

“You’re a hypocrite! You’re a fake woman. And you’re teaching these girls to be fake women. We were all cut, and we’re fine. We’re strong! And these girls are going to be weak, because of you. You’re just a pawn of the Americans… you’re selling out your tribe for money!”

“This stuff is past it’s time”, Sarah replied. “It was ending before the Americans ever came. You know girls die from this. And you don’t even bury them! You just throw their bodies in the woods like they are animals. What kind of tradition is that!? It’s foolishness. I don’t want your words. Talk. Talk all you want. I don’t hear.”

That day at Wesley House we reviewed the verbal attack on Sarah Wambura.

“This mother has strength.” (referring to Sarah Wambura)

“Amen. Do you think she’ll crack?”

“She can’t. This one can’t. She will persevere.”

“The attacks keep coming though. I worry that we’re putting the girls in danger. What if the family gets violent?”

“I had an idea. What if we bring Precious here?”, Dinnah said.

Silence.

“I’m open to it”, I said, after a long silence. “But I need to hear from everyone. We volunteer to put ourselves in danger, to protect the girls at the camp. That’s like what Jesus did. Sacrificial. But I would need every member of this community to agree.”

“Well, I’ll just point out that Precious’s family won’t walk this far. It’s far. It’s so far. 3 hours, walking. And if they attacked us… isn’t the police station a mile away? Less than a mile? They can’t do anything to us here,” Nyamhanga said.

“Maybe so”, I replied. “But the Kuria are unpredictable sometimes. I need everyone to agree.”

A little more chatter, and the consensus quickly emerged, unanimous.

“I join my hand. Let’s bring her here,” Neema said.

“Yeah, I’m not scared. Even when our friends were persecuted by Muslim extremists on the coast, we had all agreed they could come here. I’m ready,” said Gloria.

“And me, I join my hand. It’s a good idea,” replied Sarah.

So we brought Precious to our house.

None too early, either. The next day, Precious’s uncle showed up at the girls camp with a machete. His eyes were wild, and he showed them that he meant business.

“I want Precious. I have cut you.” (“I have cut you” is a Kuria-language construction meaning “I am about to cut you.”)

A security guard met him; this guard was his neighbor and knew him personally (also Kuria tribe).

The guard laughed and replied, “You have cut me? I have cut you! I have a machete, too! And there are 6 of us guards, we all have machetes and clubs. You have been cut. You don’t have anything to do here. Go. Just leave here.”

He turned around and left. Who knows whether it was a bluff? Maybe he expected the security guards to side with him? Or maybe he just left when he saw that he was outnumbered. Anyways, no one ever came back with a machete.

The verbal attacks went on. Next was a long verbal attack on the leadership of Gamasara UMC, after the worship service.

“I’ll hate the church forever if you don’t give her back in 3 days.”

“You’re welcome. You’re welcome to hate us. You hate the church because we protect girls? You’re welcome to hate us.”

The same group of women showed up at the camp to verbally harangue Sarah Wambura again. Sarah just told them that they had nothing new to say to her. True enough.

The next week passed peacefully. It was over.

So we thought.

On the final day of the FGM rituals, when we had forgotten we were supposed to be worried, Precious’s family showed up at our house. A 3-hour walk (both ways), just to make sure that their niece was cut and married to an older man.

Precious was outside our front door by the well, washing her clothes in a large plastic basin.

Thankfully, she saw them first. She ran inside the front door and locked it. Immediately, she told my lovely wife, Veronica, what was going on.

Veronica sprung into action.  “Precious! Jeroline! Watch this little Camellia (our daughter) for me. Lock the door behind me after I go out. They better not try to confuse me.”

Knowing that the relatives didn’t know her, or which house was ours, Veronica walked down our street nonchalantly, keeping an eye on them. She quickly realized that they were asking around for the Neighborhood Chairman. (In the US we don’t have government this small; basically, every neighborhood has its own elected official.)

The neighbors replied, “Well, the chairman’s home is there. But I don’t think he’s home. I think he went to a funeral.”

They sat down in front of his house to wait for him, and Veronica went back inside. Jeroline opened the door for her, and then she locked it behind her. Veronica sat near a window where she could see Precious’s relatives, but they couldn’t see her.

After about an hour of waiting, they got up and started the long walk back home.

Precious is safe. It’s been over a year since this story took place, and she has not been cut, or married.

I love Jesus. I love how he can use a small community of oddballs like me to keep a vulnerable girl safe. I love how his example helps us make the right decisions, even if they feel terrifying at the time. I love how his example is teaching the Kuria to grow in the courage that is such a natural part of their culture, while also helping them to let go of their violence against women.

I want to be like him.