Ministry for me began not in pulpits or buildings, but on dusty paths—walking from village to village across Turkana. The people were nomadic and scattered, but I believed that if I could walk, I could reach them. I didn’t know much about Jesus then, but I trusted Him completely.
My first mission field was one of the hardest: Kerio Valley, east of Lodwar. The journey took three days on foot through dry, difficult terrain. The area was known for its deep spiritual darkness, rejection, and water scarcity. When I arrived, I was met with hostility, but I stood in the open and shouted, “Listen! Jesus loves you!” Then I sang a few songs.

To my amazement, I was able to gather seven village diviners—men with many wives and great spiritual influence. In my culture, it’s unheard of for a young man to summon older men, but that day, I did. I told them, “God has sent me to bring His Word to you first—then to your people.” It was bold, but God gave me favor.
I asked for permission to gather people every Sunday for worship—their wives, children, and sons. One of them asked, “Who among us is greater than God that we would stop this?” And just like that, they agreed.

When I told them we would use drums during worship, they hesitated. “Drums will stop the rain,” they warned. So for six months, we worshiped by clapping our hands. Eventually, the children began beating empty jerrycans, and later, drums were accepted. The atmosphere changed. Worship grew. And so did faith.
This was the work of God alone. He opened the way in the hardest places.