My Journey Of Faith. Dr. Charles Mutua Mulli

MCF journey started in Eldoret in 1989 when I received a calling from God to undertake a special duty for His people, the duty of helping the helpless in society and restoring hope among the hopeless children. In those early days, I had no idea of the magnitude of how this work could grow. I started out by simply trusting in God and believing that greater things could come.

      Eldoret town, at that time, was full of street children, who were considered a nuisance by the members of the public. These destitute children were all over the town streets, bus parks, market centres, dumpsites and even estates. Many people could not stand them. The children were dirty and uncultured. They were stinky and offensive. They were seen as bothersome beggars as they followed people with a persistent plea for money, saying, “Auntie, Uncle, nisaidie shilingi,” meaning, “Please spare me a shilling.”

      I heard street boys asking me for a shilling when I parked my car in Nairobi one day. They showed me to a parking spot and wanted me to reward them for their help, but I denied them any money. When I had finished my business meeting, I came out to discover my car had been stolen. This greatly impacted me. In fact, this one incident set in motion a chain of events and started a process where I became more and more convicted about the plight of street children.

      But I did not immediately respond. Just like Samuel in the Bible, the little boy who lived in the priest Eli’s household (1 Samuel 3) and later became a prophet, I too was called many times by the Lord but could not immediately grasp the message that He was communicating to me.

      In the biblical story, God wants to use Samuel to guide the children of Israel. I could relate to Samuel. One night, the Lord calls the young boy Samuel.

      Samuel answered, “Here I am.” And he ran to Eli and said, “Here I am; you called me.” But Eli said, “I did not call; go back and lie down.” So he went and lay down.

      Again the LORD called, “Samuel!” And Samuel got up and went to Eli and said, “Here I am; you called me.”

      “My son,” Eli said, “I did not call; go back and lie down.” Now Samuel did not yet know the LORD: The word of the LORD had not yet been revealed to him. (1 Samuel 3:4–7)

      Samuel must have been so confused!

      A third time the LORD called, “Samuel!” And Samuel got up and went to Eli and said, “Here I am; you called me.” Then Eli realized that the LORD was calling the boy. So Eli told Samuel, “Go and lie down, and if he calls you, say, ‘Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening.’” So Samuel went and lay down in his place.

      The LORD came and stood there, calling as at the other times, “Samuel! Samuel!” Then Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.” (1 Samuel 3:8–10)

      And the Lord went ahead and gave Samuel the intended message.

      Many times I had felt a lot of compassion for street children, to the extent of taking food to them in the street, mainly bread and soda, chatting with them, encouraging them not to give up in life (however unbelievable such words sounded), but God had wanted me to do something bigger than that. During that time I kept asking myself, What is the reason for our existence on earth? I felt a compelling force pushing me to go forth and do something about these abandoned and vulnerable children. But what was I supposed to do?

      I could not quickly figure it out. I spent sleepless nights pondering it. This was characterized by moments of prayer, meditation and soul-searching. I continued making trips to the streets of Eldoret, the place this vulnerable group called home. At one point I became a very troubled man—not happy or contented with what I was doing, despite succeeding in a lot of businesses and earning a lot of money.

      I kept feeling that God was calling me to something different. I even felt guilty that I had a lot of food for myself and my family, but the street children were suffering out there with nothing to eat and no roof over their heads. For about three years, I kept getting signs from God, telling me, “Go ye, Charles,” but it was not until November 1989 that I finally said, “Speak, Lord; your servant is listening.”

      The turning point came that November day when I suddenly became ill at my office. I left for home, yet strangely found myself on the highway headed to Uganda. I blacked out and nearly crashed. I pulled over and felt an incredible battle inside me. Do I stay in business, or do I leave it all to rescue street children? It was crazy, really. But there is nothing normal about following God.

      After a moment of silent meditation and prayer, I realized that God wanted me to rescue and show love to the suffering children in the streets of Eldoret and the rest of the country. Most of them were totally hopeless and desperate; they had concluded that God had forgotten them. They believed that their lives were headed nowhere. But at this moment, God was calling me to show these children that He still cared about them and, despite being destitute in the streets, all was not lost in their lives.

      And the message finally came out loud: “Go ye, Charles, into the streets and rescue the suffering children from the trauma that they are facing out there. Restore them back to Me. Give them food, clothing and shelter. Let them know Me and know that I love and care for them. Sell everything that you own and dedicate those resources to uplifting the lives of the destitute children.”

      Just like a soldier who had been commanded into action by his superiors, I sprang to my feet with my heart blazing. I focused all my energies on rescuing and rehabilitating the needy children by giving them food, clothing, shelter, spiritual guidance, parental love and education.

      But before doing all this, I sought to know and understand the street children better. There was no better way of doing this than befriending them and going to the streets to spend time with them. I knew I had to befriend them and get to know their ways before I could teach them the ways of the Lord.

      Most evenings I would go down to the banks of the Sosiani River in Eldoret—where they mainly lived—and try to understand their lives. What do they talk about? How do they reason? How do they connect? How do they eat? Where do they sleep? Whom do they worship? How do they perceive life? What do they hope for in the future? I decided to find out.

      I sat around their fires and shared in their stories. Sosiani River cuts through Eldoret town. It often floods whenever it rains. This is a dirty and dangerous river, and many people drown in it. I could not understand why street children chose to live next to this dangerous place where it could be catastrophic if someone pushed you over the edge. My worries were compounded when I realized that some children liked pushing others in. All the same, I joined them there.

      I learned that the children on the street barely ate anything. They went for days without food. And when they happened to eat something, it was mainly decomposing leftovers that exposed them to serious dangers like cancer and even death. They slept in the open alleys and literally saw nothing positive in the world.

      These children became a bother to the public. They begged in streets and camped outside hotels and supermarkets, begging for assistance, but few people would give them a second glance.

      It is not a secret that even today many people find these children repulsive and bothersome. Many people shout at them or simply roll up their car windows and drive off. This attitude leads some of the street children into stealing, but the consequences became even worse. Many of them were brutally attacked, injured and even killed. I witnessed and also heard of many cases of street children dying by the hands of irate citizens. It pitted a society of those who have against those who do not have.

      The street children were commonly referred to as chokora. This name refers to people whose main preoccupation is to rummage in garbage cans and dumpsites. It is a negative term suggesting that the children are very disgusting, disorderly and unbearable. Instead of pitying and supporting the poor, it is sad that our society chose to look down upon them and coined a demeaning name for them.

      I don’t like using the word chokora in reference to street children. This term literally accuses them of being wild or vagabonds and portrays them in a negative light, whereas some of them are living in the streets as a matter of fate. Given a chance, they would not have gone there at all.

      My interaction with