Slum musings...

As I trapesed down steep, muddy hills, into the slum…the overwhelming stench of poverty hit me. Men sitting aimlessly, lining the road, chewing khat and smoking and drinking… wasting away their day along with their potential. Women were going about the business of searching for water to wash and cook the little they had to prepare. Tiny dukas (shops) selling everything. Men and women from all walks of life and all religions.

It rained last night so streams of water ran through the alleyways, amongst the sewage. Rubbish lined the streets and filled the air when the hot breeze picked it up. Mud stuck to my shoes. Children played amongst the filth, in bare feet and torn clothes…. If you can even call them clothes, some were so torn they were falling off, others so filthy- the stains and mud will never come out. Their hair white with dandruff and the heads that were bare covered with patches of ring worms. Children who looked full of illness. Runny, runny noses and filthy little faces. They were there… happily rolling tyres and cars made from old juice boxes. They didn’t seem to realise that life can be different than this.

Colours everywhere. Smells I’ve never smelt. The stench of burning plastic, open holes doubling as toilets. Rain dripping through the mabati (tin) walls. Each house on top of the next one with just enough room to squeeze between them. Unevenly laid concrete in the building we ended up in. The roof teetering on top of our heads, as if it could collapse the next second. Open electricity wires, dangling down. Competing hip-hop music blaring on the radios through the walls, from every side. The stench of corruption was everywhere.   

I had gone with a friend to this slum to attend a parents meeting at a local slum school. It was an interesting meeting. The parents all looked so young. SO...SO very young. I am sure most were under the age of 20, some with 2 or 3 small children running around their legs. This was one of the first times in Kenya that I have seen complete hopelessness. Their faces void of expression, avoiding eye contact, peering down at their feet.  Parents looking dishevelled and stressed and un kept. I was told many of them were prostitutes or sellers of channga (illicit brew). I couldn’t managed to crack a smile from very many of them. I stared into their eyes…their empty eyes.

As I sat and listened for hours to the meeting I prayed for those women. I prayed for their hearts. I prayed for them to be able to provide breakfast for their little ones. I prayed for lunches for them. I prayed they would see the value of education for their little ones. I prayed that they would see that the only way to get out is through education. I prayed their children would be safe and full tonight.

I prayed that one day their absolute hopelessness may turn into showers of joy.