Initiated, at last.

"Two are better than one, for they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls, and has not another to lift him up!" (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10, ESV)


This week, a childhood dream came true. I joined a gang. And not just any gang, an exclusive Nepali gang.

Over the past year, I have seen this gang of four hanging around my neighborhood. They lurk behind people, wait for them outside of stores. But people seem to ignore them. Turn their heads when the gang approaches, pretend to not notice they are being followed.

Let me explain.

This gang is made up of four very young street kids.

I see them around in my neighborhood maybe once every month or so, and they stick around for a day or two. Each time I see them, I make a point to buy them a juice or some cookies, and we sit on the curb together and chat while they consume their treat.

What they really want, and what they ask for, is money. But I'm not comfortable just handing out money, and they have never said no to a snack!

This week I saw them for the first time in almost 2 months. I was so excited that I crossed the street to go talk with them. They recognized me right away, quite possibly because I'm the only white person who comes running up to them yelling things in Nepali.

We all held hands as we walked to the corner store, and they waited outside while I bought us all mango juice boxes. Then we sat together on the sidewalk while we drank.

I had never asked them any personal questions before, I didn't want to make them uncomfortable, or get too deep too soon. But this week I decided to dive right in and see how comfortable they are with me now.

I asked them how they knew each other. The oldest, a boy, and the youngest, a girl, are brother and sister. Krishna and Vishnu. The two boys in between are friends. They met when Krishna and Vishnu's parents passed away, and they went to live with the family of one of the other boys.

That was two years ago when Krishna was 6, and Vishnu was only 2. Both of the other boys are now 6. Neither of their families can afford to feed all of the kids, so they send this gang of four out each day to beg for food and money to feed their families. Whatever they bring back that day is what they have to eat.

They carry the weight of their families well being on their little, tiny shoulders.

None of them go to school, even though Krishna and the younger boys should have been attending for several years now. According to them, they have more important things to do.

While we were talking, Vishnu crawled onto my lap, and snuggled up with her juice box. I chatted with the boys a bit longer, then noticed that the young girl was fast asleep, drooling mango juice that she apparently forgot to swallow.

As she slept, we talked about important things like their favorite kind of candy and who their favorite soccer player is. After about fifteen minutes of hanging out, it was time for me to go. We woke up Vishnu, I took their trash to throw away, and then I started to say goodbye. Before I could finish my first sentence, Krishna asked me a very important question...

"You are our friend, no?"

I assured him that we were friends, and that we always would be. He looked relieved.

As if that wasn't enough, he proceeded to teach me their secret handshake. After I memorized a series of snaps, claps, jumps and shakes, we parted ways.

It's funny how God can give you some of the most unlikely friendships in the most unlikely ways.

And how, at the end of it all, you might find yourself a part of a street gang.