On a Midnight Escape and Starting a New Life in Canada

“Why us, God? Why did you spare us? Why me?”

By Njoki Mbui | Twitter: @njokimbui

Some days I am still amazed that I have a beautiful life in a foreign land, away from my motherland. It almost always happens when I am in the car driving, admiring the beautiful mountains, the trees and even the clean roads. How did I end up in Canada? How did my family decide to make this our home?

I remember that time when everything changed very well. I had just completed Form Four (equivalent to Grade 12) in Kenya and was back home for good from boarding school. I was going to miss school–I loved it–but it had been hard being away from my family for long periods of time. I imagined being back home and how amazing it would be: hot baths, home-cooked meals and long talks with Mom in the evenings before bedtime.

Boy, was I ever wrong!

It was early 1998 and Kenya was experiencing some politically-instigated violence in the Rift Valley. This was home for us. We lived right on the disputed land the two tribes involved were fighting for.

A few years earlier, my dad had purchased a small farm on the outskirts of Nakuru which at the time was a calm, desirable and fertile piece of land. It used to be safe, but this time around there were many nights when Mom stayed up, listening to the screaming and wailing. She would send us to bed after our bedtime prayers and always reminded us to keep our shoes and jackets close by, in case we needed to get out in a rush. It was scary! Not at all what I had envisioned.

This one particular night, just before going to bed, I peered through the curtains, because I felt worried. The screaming was getting louder and closer to our home. The skyline was aglow, illuminated by the numerous fires as people’s homes were set ablaze by the enemy combatants. I called out to Mom, but she was fast asleep. How could she sleep on such a night? I crawled to my sister’s room next door; she was also awake.

“This is normal”, she said. “It happens all the time–they will stop burning the houses and retreat to their homes. It will soon be calm.”

I was not buying it. At this point our neighbor’s home was on fire. So, with my prompting, my sister and I quickly changed into warm clothes. We put on our shoes and even packed small bags. We were ready to go. But go where?

I sat on the edge of the bed, shaking and crying out to God. Soon after, we heard a loud bang on our gate. It was our neighbor yelling, “You need to get out! Everyone is gone!”

Mom was now awake and still in her night gown. For the first time I saw the look of panic on her face. Mom had always been our rock; she was never scared–and if she ever were, she hid it well.

We closed the door behind us and ran through the back gate. Mom suggested we run in the trenches so no one would see us. It had rained all day and the trenches were filled to the brink, but without hesitation, we jumped in and trudged through to the end of the farm where hid in the tall grasses. We waited until it was safe to cross the road to the safe side where the majority of my tribe was in hiding. We made it–soaking wet, covered in mud, but safe.

It was a long, cold, sad night. A lot of people had lost their homes, including all their property. We sat surrounded by other women and children in eerie silence–it felt hopeless. The night was darker than usual. The men were gathering themselves to fight back the next day–this had been a surprise attack. We were ambushed! The next morning, we were escorted to our homes by young men who had formed a small army the night before. They had managed to scare the enemy combatants back to their homes for a short period of time, long enough for us to gather our belongings and quickly move to safety.

We had nowhere to go. The country was in a state of emergency and most of the roads were closed. We found ourselves in a mass exodus carrying our clothing, kitchen ware, documents, etc in sacks and cardboard boxes. (I am reminded of that scene in the movie Hotel Rwanda). This is the image I flash back to when I compare my life now to what life was like on that day.

We were walking with multitudes of other displaced people, carrying children on their backs, pieces of furniture and other things they considered valuable. There was a look of sadness in my mom’s eyes; a look I had never seen before. She had no answers when we asked where we were going. She tried not to cry in our presence, but I could see her soul was troubled. The next few days were a blur as we ended up bunking with friends of friends along the way until we made it out of the barricaded area.

My uncles were waiting on the other side; they had been looking for us. We hugged and cried–we were finally safe! The turn of events during the following months was nothing short of a miracle. God completely surprised us, He had good plans ahead, despite the pain and confusion we felt. Now I can attest to God’s faithfulness in His word: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

While all this was happening, my dad was in Canada, pursuing his PhD at UBC. He was distressed and worried for our safety. Together with his church family, friends and professors, he was able to acquire visas for us to travel to Canada. In addition, an anonymous donor (who we later found out was the president of the university at the time) donated enough money to cover our travel expenses. God was opening doors, even windows–they were flying open!

Within about three months of losing our home, we were on our way to Canada. For the last 13.5 years, it has been home for us. Many of the other families who were displaced from their homes ended up in camps with poor living conditions; others became homeless and died of diseases. Women were raped and young girls turned to prostitution for survival.

Why us, God? Why did you spare us? Why me? I ask God many times as I go about my days … I often reflect on the darkness and hopelessness of that season of our lives. What would have happened if we gave up and sunk into depression? I have learnt now that while there may be many times when I will be shaken and my life turned up side down, it’s important for me to remember that God is never-changing. He is my safety. I hold on to Him. I hold on to faith, despite the bleakness of now, because I know God is working in the unseen (Hebrews 11:1).

God, you spared me–this little light of mine–I’m gonna let it shine!

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About Njoki:

My name is Njoki. I was born and raised in Kenya. My family immigrated to Canada thirteen years ago. If asked to introduce myself, I would say; I am a daughter, sister, niece and friend… my family defines who I am. We love to love, cook, eat and laugh out loud; the happiest days are spent hanging out with my family and close friends. I am a pediatric nurse, driven and passionate about issues affecting women and children.