Jackson the Tailor (Stories from East Africa)

This is Jackson. He is a tailor in a small slum called Misri (Egypt in Swahili) where 500 orphans live within its 10 square acre boundaries. As a husband and a father, he works long hours with his hands to provide for his family. Though I only spent 30 minutes with him over 2 days, he was the most generous man I’ve met…ever.

Living in a place named after the suffering and oppression the Israelites faced while slaves in Egypt, you would never know it when talking to Jackson. From the moment he saw us driving along the rutted out dirt road in front of his tailor shop (I’m using that term very loosely), he jumped up and greeted us with a broad smile and raised arms. He invited us in, offering every chair (2) in his place to sit on and be comfortable. He wanted to hear our stories of where we came from and why we were in his village. He listened intently and praised God that we had arrived. As a follower of Jesus, he kept reminding us that we were family but we had already felt that way before he articulated the words.

We felt so welcome.

He offered all 10 of us soda (no small task for a man that earns less than a dollar a day) and we were torn between letting his generosity break his savings and allowing him the opportunity to extend hospitality to us. We agreed that we would accept one soda and share it among our team. We thought he was going to pull one out from some storage area but instead he sent his wife to the store (again, using the term loosely) to purchase a Coca-Cola for us. She returned and poured out the 300ml bottle of Coca-Cola into an eclectic collection of cups and bowls for us to drink from.

1 ounce of Coke never tasted better in all my life.

As the warm sunlight slid through the cracks in the sagging walls, he told me that he felt like it was God’s design that we were to meet that day. That he had been discouraged in his faith but felt like our arrival was a reminder from God that God still cared and that God was still involved in Jackson’s life.

It was at this point that he did the unthinkable.

He turned around and faced all that he owned – the clothes that he had made. These clothes represented his assets, his savings, his retirement fund…everything. He reached up and grabbed the nicest garment, turned and faced me and said, “this my friend, is for you.”

I stood there in a humble shock as he held the fine, traditional Kenyan shirt in front of me. As someone who was taller than the average Kenyan (and because I didn’t want to take any resources from him) I told him that I was sure my arms would be too long. He laughed and the translator made some joke about Jackson dreaming that I would one day come so he designed the shirt perfectly for me. As he put it on me and started buttoning up the shirt, I couldn’t help but stare in complete humble awe at this man. Here he was, giving me something that could put food in his family’s stomach and he was beaming with joy that he had something to give me as a gift. As we stood there in silence as he buttoned the shirt, we both knew the gift was more than the shirt. It was a quiet affirmation that we are both children of God and we both have something to offer one another, though we live worlds apart.

©2009 Fuller Youth Institute