On January 22, our group went to
the slums of Kibera. It is a famous slum known for its 12 districts containing
anywhere from 120,000 to 2 million people, “depending on what propaganda you
listen to.” Kibera originated as an area for Sudanese refugees, providing a
temporary place for them to reside. It was never meant to be a permanent place
of housing. Despite Kibera’s size, it is still technically in Nairobi. The
contrast of great wealth in the city and the staggering poverty in the slums
was appalling. Often times in the slums, people would use “flying toilets,”
which is when they defecate into bags and simply toss them out on the street in
lieu of a restroom.
We
started our visit by stopping by the Swahiba organization. The word “swahiba”
means “close friends” in Swahili. The organization aims to have a holistic
approach in their evangelizing. Grace, the “pastor” of the group, quoted the
founder of the Swahiba organization about the group’s purpose in saying, “if
you must preach to a hungry person, then wrap the gospel in a sandwich.”
Swahiba has several programs geared for different age groups. They also try to
educate girls about reproduction in order to empower them to leave the slums in
hopes of a better life.
Pastor Grace told me that many
times, people send money to the government for aid, only for that money to
“disappear” into the accounts of politicians. She argued that the most
effective response was from refugees who’ve escaped the slum, only later
choosing to return to it. The returned refugees knew the people of the slums.
They are intimately aware of the problems they face. But how could you ever
fault those who’ve left the slums, the ones who tried so desperately all their
lives to escape? One member of our group said that it must be a calling from
God that draws these people back. Otherwise, they would never return.
While
we initially planned to have three separate groups go into Kibera with one
guard each, the guards wanted to have another guard be hired. This new
development, coupled with the frustration of being asked by the guards to pay
increasingly higher service fees, resulted in a compromise of one group being
accompanied by two guards.
As
we walked through Kibera, I would see the aforementioned bags on the road and
would try to avoid stepping on them. However, there became times where the bags
were simply unavoidable to walk on, due to the sheer volume of bags present.
Open sewers meandered through the streets with putrid sewage. Random assortments
of piping and wiring proliferated in the city. Trash was everywhere. Some
children walked the slum without shoes even in this environment. As I passed by
corrugated iron roofs, some of which were accidentally electrified, I could see
the exposed raw branches composing the houses, most times cemented only by the
clay-rich soil of the area.
With
Swahiba, we visited two households of their students in Kibera, presenting free
modest groceries to the families of these households. In the first house, we
crammed our group inside one small room with few furnishings. The house held a
father and his three daughters. He thanked us and informed us of his job as a
security guard. His words were spoken with great effort, and I could see that
he was exhausted. I immediately remembered our interactions with the security
guards. I was frustrated by our interactions with the security guards earlier,
but then I wondered about their families they, too, had to support. Of course,
they would try to hire another guard and also try to raise their wage; they
need the money.
On
the way to the second house, we had to cross over a stream of filth. I could
see pigs wading through the waste below. I observed that many of the street
merchants who had lunch would cook only slices of potato for food. Sometimes,
they would cook with spices, but often times it was plain. Usually, the oil
used for cooking the potatoes would be from the generators they used.
The
second house was even smaller than the first, being only slightly larger than
my hotel bathroom. Here, a mother
lived with her 13 children. She asked us to pray for her health, since she
suffered from both diabetes and high blood pressure.
We
arrived back at Swahiba and hung out with its members. They are so filled with
the Spirit. Though their work is tough, they take such joy in what they do. I
talked with Daniel extensively about his job as a Swahiba teacher for the
children in Kibera. He told me about how he once heard a 15 year old student
say that they’ve killed someone. He also spoke of his joy at the chance to help
impact young people. After our discussion, he asked when I was going to return
to Kenya. I replied that I didn’t know.
It
has been the persistent question throughout this trip: purpose. I’ve heard of
students in the past who’ve desired to return to Kenya after the trip, only to
be caught up in lie when they return stateside. It’s hard to leave friends and
family behind. Frankly, it’s terrifying. I want to return to Kenya, but I don’t
know if I could commit to that desire.
Daniel’s
question made me think about how to address the problems of Kibera. The
perpetuated ignorance of the cultures present in Kibera often times prevents
people from leaving. Swahiba members informed us that when their students
become educated, they grow a desire to leave the slums. Yet, there are so many
other problems in Kibera besides education.
Throughout the trip, I’ve had a
unique experience. Being the only non-white member of the group, I would be
constantly asked if I was Chinese by Kenyans (for the record, I’m Filipino). It
took me 12 years to become a U.S. citizen. Yet, it has been assumed by many
that I’m not. Many members of my group have expressed uncomfortable moments
where people have begged them for money. Being Americans, most Kenyans assume
that we are rich. This also occurs when we barter with merchants. They start at
bartering with extremely high prices. In contrast, I would get reasonable
starting prices when bartering. I was foreign. I wasn’t seen as “rich.” I was
able to be a part of American culture and also be an observer of it.
And yet, the people are joyful. The
residents of the slum that we’ve met were so hopeful in God. Their faith was
astounding. With the little that they have, they feel so blessed for every day.
They have friends, family, and God. In chaos, there is harmony.
And yet, America has problems, too.
Despite our staggering wealth and opportunities, we still express
dissatisfaction and frustration in our lives. We “have it all,” yet often times
we still don’t find peace.
What is Kibera missing? What are we
Americans missing?
-Jerome N.
Photo credits: Emily
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