While we are celebrating the 20th anniversary of Heart for Africa in 2026, my journey to Africa started in 2003 on the streets of Lusaka, Zambia, and Nairobi, Kenya.
I will never forget all five of my senses being assaulted and then put on high alert. I clearly remember the sight of the boys wrapped up in garbage, sleeping on the cold concrete sidewalk under a bright light for relative safety. I could hear some of the boys snoring deeply, almost in a coma, from sniffing glue and gasoline out of small plastic bottles. The others were moaning in pain or from the ongoing nightmares of their lives.
Even today, I can smell their sweaty and filthy bodies cuddled together for protection from the cold, older male predators, or the police. The smell was almost unbearable, and I put a small piece of a Listerine PocketPak up in my nose to keep me still standing. I remember the coldness of a small boy’s feet when I offered him a pair of warm socks. His feet were as hard as rock, as they had never been inside the safety of a pair of shoes.
Lastly, I can taste the bile in my mouth that formed as the Lord pulled back the curtain of my eyes to truly see into the hearts and souls of these children who were broken, scared to death, sickly, starving, injured, mourning, and hopeless. That is where the journey that I have been on for the last 23 years started.
On Monday I found myself back in Nairobi after 18 years. I was back to the beginning, but this time I wasn’t searching to find children living on the street. I was at a conference with River Cross Global, a ministry that helps equip those caring for children in distress with Christ-centered, trauma-informed training and resources that build safety, trust, and resilience. We want Project Canaan to become a center of excellence in trauma-informed care in Africa, and this was the next step.
Meanwhile, while I was back in my African “birthplace,” Spencer was in Washington, DC, meeting with foundations that we hope will be able to help us build the future for our children—and not just any future, but a future filled with hope, joy, productivity, and resilience, all built on a knowledge of who they are and Whose they are. Ian and I were blessed to be joined by Khosie Mamba, Allen Vilakati, Mbongeni Hlope, and Janice Johnson, and it was a wonderful week together.
In addition, we got to meet up with Anthony Mutua’s sister Ann and her husband Joseph, and thoroughly enjoyed a delicious Ethiopian meal with them.
The world is a traumatic place and, I suppose, always has been. We may not be able to do that, but what we can do is help those around us navigate their pasts, which will impact their future. One of the quotes that I wrote down this week is,
“Your current pain doesn’t have to determine your future.”
And another was,
“Your story doesn’t have to control you. You can control your story.”
Those are good words for all of us to hear today.
If you would like to listen to my African story from the beginning, please feel free to download a free copy of my first book, It’s Not Okay With Me, at this link.
Janine