Today, I decided to explore Nairobi and what better way to do so then to hire a local guide to show me the city. In the morning, I headed to the Karen Blixen Museum. Karen is the author of "Out of Africa". Following this we stopped at a little hand-made jewelry place, where proceeds help single mothers from Kibera. After indulging a little, we headed to Kibera, the largest "slum" in 
Nairobi, and second largest in Africa. From a distance, you can see the brown roofs of little buildings that resembles tiny sheds side by side. There are over 170,000 people that live there, most without electricity or water. Before entering the area, we pulled over to the side of the road and I climbed a little hill to get a bird's eye view of what was to come. There was a women bathing just 50 feet away from me in a puddle of brown water and she didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that I was around. When she was done washing, she filled a bucket with the muddy water and head towards the slums. We soon followed, and my driver/guide parked the vehicle just outside of Kibera. I was greeted by Mary, a pre-school volunteer that has been living in Kibera for about 15 years. Together, we walked along the dirty alleyways, up and down hills, jumping over trash and other unknown substances. I will never forget the stench of sweat, dirt, disease, human waste and garbage that fill the air. The houses have no doors, leaving women and children vulnerable at night. Metal sheets are used as roofs, with rocks to keep them steady. There is a train track in the middle of the area, used as the main pedestrian street between passing trains. Vendors, anxious to feed their family, line the track with products that we, Westerners, would find in landfills. As I walked along the tracks, a rooster was eagerly pecking through garbage to eat, followed by a few children. We arrived at Mary's home and she invited me in. Brushing the white sheet (her front door) to the left, I crouched-over and entered. Mary is a widow and has three children. She considers herself lucky because after 15 years in the slums, she has managed to get a 2 room house (about 250 sq feet total). Her house is tidy and every space occupied. There are 3 love sofas, which I assume are the bed of the children, and on the ceiling hangs rolled-up thin mattresses for the school that she keeps there, secure from theft, until a better and safer space for the school can be found. I asked her about her life and how she earns a living as a volunteer. Her salary is based on what the parents of the children at the daycare can offer to pay. In her words, she is "making ends meet by the will of God" because most parents can't afford to pay for early education. About 20 minutes later, we headed back through the dirty, hilly and uneven alleys, skipping over trash and human waste, over the train tracks, towards her school. Along the way, a small child no older than 3 years old from Mary's school, gently grabbed my hand. He had no shoes, torn pants, a faded t-shirt, runny nose and a smile that could light-up the world. His big brown eyes looked up at me with such innocence, hope, need and love... I felt my heart stop beating and fought to keep back the tears. We walked in silence for a minute, then I continued to smile and squeezed his hand a little as a gesture of goodbye. He slowly wandered back to the entrance of his home.
Nairobi, and second largest in Africa. From a distance, you can see the brown roofs of little buildings that resembles tiny sheds side by side. There are over 170,000 people that live there, most without electricity or water. Before entering the area, we pulled over to the side of the road and I climbed a little hill to get a bird's eye view of what was to come. There was a women bathing just 50 feet away from me in a puddle of brown water and she didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that I was around. When she was done washing, she filled a bucket with the muddy water and head towards the slums. We soon followed, and my driver/guide parked the vehicle just outside of Kibera. I was greeted by Mary, a pre-school volunteer that has been living in Kibera for about 15 years. Together, we walked along the dirty alleyways, up and down hills, jumping over trash and other unknown substances. I will never forget the stench of sweat, dirt, disease, human waste and garbage that fill the air. The houses have no doors, leaving women and children vulnerable at night. Metal sheets are used as roofs, with rocks to keep them steady. There is a train track in the middle of the area, used as the main pedestrian street between passing trains. Vendors, anxious to feed their family, line the track with products that we, Westerners, would find in landfills. As I walked along the tracks, a rooster was eagerly pecking through garbage to eat, followed by a few children. We arrived at Mary's home and she invited me in. Brushing the white sheet (her front door) to the left, I crouched-over and entered. Mary is a widow and has three children. She considers herself lucky because after 15 years in the slums, she has managed to get a 2 room house (about 250 sq feet total). Her house is tidy and every space occupied. There are 3 love sofas, which I assume are the bed of the children, and on the ceiling hangs rolled-up thin mattresses for the school that she keeps there, secure from theft, until a better and safer space for the school can be found. I asked her about her life and how she earns a living as a volunteer. Her salary is based on what the parents of the children at the daycare can offer to pay. In her words, she is "making ends meet by the will of God" because most parents can't afford to pay for early education. About 20 minutes later, we headed back through the dirty, hilly and uneven alleys, skipping over trash and human waste, over the train tracks, towards her school. Along the way, a small child no older than 3 years old from Mary's school, gently grabbed my hand. He had no shoes, torn pants, a faded t-shirt, runny nose and a smile that could light-up the world. His big brown eyes looked up at me with such innocence, hope, need and love... I felt my heart stop beating and fought to keep back the tears. We walked in silence for a minute, then I continued to smile and squeezed his hand a little as a gesture of goodbye. He slowly wandered back to the entrance of his home.  |
| Mary standing on the street with her children, outside her home. |
A few minutes later, I stood in front of the school, a blue building the size of a 1.5 car garage, and watched a group of boys play soccer with a ball so used that it resembled a rotten coconut. I later bought a football for $1300 shillings (to compare, a beer is only $400 shillings) and my guide kindly agreed to deliver it this week. Inside the building, there were a few portable partition walls that Mary uses to separate the older children and the babies. To the back is a small kitchen (smaller than a closet) used to prepare lunch for about 150 children, most of which are under the age of 3. Her school receives limited funding through NGO's and visitors, but unfortunately the need in Kibera is greater than what is donated.
I remain fascinated by the strength, courage and perseverance of this woman. I left having made a new friend and hope that my little contribution helped for a bit. I will always treasure my time spent with her.
