The Price of Freedom
Posted December 15, 2010
NAIROBI, Kenya — What is the price to manipulate and abuse a woman’s body?
In Kenya, it can be as little as one US dollar (50 to 100 Kenya shillings).
Those removed from starvation, poverty and hopelessness might be appalled at this trivial amount. Yet many in need have accepted prostitution as a means of survival, a common way to make a living where few other opportunities exist.
Susan, a young woman in the Kinyago slum in a community called Eastleigh, sold her body so she could afford to send money to cover school fees for her daughter in Uganda. Others, who have lost husbands to death, offered themselves in order to provide minimal food for their children.
When prospects were few and money was low, another possibility came into view: the church. Some of these women sought assistance, moving from one church to another, begging for continued subsistence.
Unexpectedly, the women found a new way of survival through this search for necessities. They discovered salvation through Jesus Christ. They found life that is truly life; life that is meaningful and work that does not dishonor their bodies, but honors the Lord.
Methuselah Manyasa, community development coordinator of First Eastleigh Baptist Church, has been used by the Lord to minister to and equip these women, as well as other impoverished people in the neighborhood. His slogan could aptly be, “Changing lives one loan at a time.”
Manyasa offers the community “trainings based on a livelihood.” He seeks to motivate and encourage the men and women of Eastleigh to be independent, working to sustain themselves rather than relying on aid relief and assistance from others.
He teaches them to work hard and to save their earnings, to give back to the community and to strive for a better existence.
“Give a man a fish and you have fed him for a day,” Manyasa says, quoting a well-known proverb. “Teach a man to fish and you have fed him for a lifetime.”
Manyasa and other church leaders created a method for these former prostitutes, along with others, to find freedom and opportunity in owning a small business. As the church affords, each person is given a loan from the collective fund to initiate a small business of his or her preference, such as selling fruits and vegetables or hot foods like chapati, a fried, unleavened flatbread common to east Africa.
As each small-business owner generates revenue, he or she reimburses the church in increments, contributing a small portion of his or her earnings on a regular basis, whatever can be spared beyond providing for family and paying rent. These contributions flow back to the collective of pooled resources, which allows the church to invest in the life of another impoverished member by granting a loan.
Millicent, age 40 and mother of five children, started her small business four years ago with the support of the church, cooking local specialties for car mechanics in a neighboring junkyard.
On the streets along the Blue Estate slum, Surewa, now a salonist, sells weaves, beads and other hair care products.
Susan, mentioned in the beginning of this story, is now a born-again believer and dreams of manning a vegetable stand. She is enrolled in the small business program and attends weekly meetings.
For approximately US$25, the average expense of initiating a small business in Eastleigh, women are no longer enslaved to commercial sex to make a living.
So what is the cost? Granting women in poverty the prospect of breaking free of demoralizing their bodies for a price … to God, that is priceless.
Fiona Kerrigan served as a short-term missionary in Kenya. She graduated from the University of North Carolina at Charlotte and currently lives in North Carolina, where she hopes to pursue a seminary education.



