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Published: August 6th 2010
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At any given time, Kenya usually ranks among the most corrupt countries in the world. Over half of Kenyans are living in poverty, and over seven million of those people are said to be living in extreme poverty. It's a shocking amount for one of Africa's most wealthy and developed nations. Especially considering that much poorer neighboring countries don't have the same issues. A Kenyan worker making minimum wage earns less than $2 per day, and the average per capita income is around $360 in a year. Over the last thirty years, the gap between rich and poor has been growing, and the middle class has been dwindling. With those kind of wages, it's impossible to afford any kind of rural housing recognized by the government. So millions of people have to move to slums, where landlords rent out residences to far more poeple than what is legally allowed.
Kibera is one of these places. It is said to be the largest slum in sub-saharan Africa, with an estimated populations ranging anywhere from one to four million, depending on who you ask. It's land occupies 1% of Nairobi, but is home to a quarter of the city's inhabitants. Since it
upgrade housing
under construction... isn't recognized by the government, there's no public schools, no hospitals, no garbage system or running water. The only schools in the area are private, and though the tuition costs are relatively cheap, they're still unaffordable for most people in Kibera.
During my first days at Wildebeest camp, I met a guy from Burmingham named Will. He's in Nairobi for a month, teaching English and Social Studies to kids at St. Christine's school in Kibera. When I got back from the safari, he told me his students were playing in a soccer tournament against the kids from the other schools in the area, and that I could tag along. I decided to go, being that it's such an important part of the city that gets ignored by most.
We left the next morning. It's a short walk down the street to the market that marks the entrance to Kibera, and we took a matatu from there as close as we could get to the school. I opted to leave my camera at the hotel for the day. Not because I was worried about theft, but because I would feel like a douche snapping pictures of my day in
a slum just to show people at home.
We hopped out of the matatu and took to the dirt walkways to go the rest of the way to the school. I didn't really know what to expect, but I found myself somewhat surprised at how upbeat and colourful the people were. Everywhere we walked we were greeted by small children who could only say one English phrase, "Howayou?" They would repeat it over and over as you walked by, almost making a song out of it. Their mothers usually just gave a friendly smile and a wave as we passed through. There was an ironic contrast between the streets of Nairobi and those of Kibera in that nobody approached me to try to sell me anything or to ask for money. We clearly stuck out as westerners, but for the whole walk of around two kilometres we were left to go about our business just as everyone else. In the city, I couldn't walk two blocks without being approached for one reason or another.
The vibrant upbeat nature of the people was almost a polar opposite to the dingy stark look the streets provided. The sewage system is
merely trenches dug between the walkway and the housing and shops. During the wet season, large parts of it are known to flood, causing disease and infection. The toilets are pits dug in the ground, many of which have overflown long ago, leading to what is known as flying toilets. People poo into bags and hurl it to the top of the pile. Since there's no garbage pickup system, piles of burnt rubbish can be found on nearly every corner. It's estimated that about a fifth of the over two million Kenyans that have HIV live in Kibera.
We arrived at the school around 10, where the kids excitedly greeted Will, and most weren't at all shy to approach me and ask dozens of questions about my life in Canada. I was introduced to a couple of the other teachers as well as the principal, who sat me down and talked to me about what they're trying to accomplish in the school. He gave me a business card, and we headed out on what we expected to be a short walk to the local soccer feild.
The kids are captivated by white people, or mzungos as they call
us in Swahili. On the walk, Will was probably sixty feet ahead of me, and Tom (the other white guy) was somewhere in between. Wherever there was a mzungo, the kids just branched out in a horizontal line, holding our hands and asking questions. A twelve year old named Felix took the most interest in talking, and he was the best tour guide of Kibera I could have asked for. He was so excited to show me around and tell me about how the upgrade housing was being built (which Tom later told me was being sold as real estate, instead of it's intended purpose). A couple kilometres into the walk, he noticed a few younger kids looking at me and laughing, so he hung back to see what was so funny. A few seconds later he comes running up to me laughing saying, "Eric! Eric! They laugh because they think you look like Chuck Norris."
That was my proudest moment in Africa.
I'm slightly embarrassed to say that a few of the kids knew more about Canada than I did about Kenya before I came here. Hockey wasn't a foreign concept, and one of the kids picked
up a leaf off the ground that resembled a maple leaf and handed it to me and said "Canada!" Felix also managed to belt out the first verse of Oh Canada for me.
At the end of the "short" 6km walk, we arrived at the field. Which was actually a prison field. The guards stopped us white guys to ask just what we were doing there. Once they found out we were with the school they were real nice and happy to see us there. Then they told us to stay off the other field because there were inmates in the yard. Perfect place for a kids soccer tournament I guess.
All of the kids were quite talented for their age. They could probably play circles around children the same age in Canada, without wearing shoes. The girls played first, while all their classmates watched attentively. When they won, the whole group erupted in celebration. It was clear how big of a deal something as simple as a soccer game was to them.
The tournament wasn't organized all that well, and there's no rush in Africa, so it dragged on for hours and not a single game
was played at it's proper time. It was too bad because Will and I had to leave before we could see the boys play. We said goodbye to the kids and headed on our way. A few of them asked me if I would be back on Monday for school and I had to tell them I probably wouldn't be. Apparently some of them were disappointed that I wasn't staying in the city for longer to be a teacher. I honestly wish I could. Maybe I'll find a way to come back one summer and do that.
I found myself wishing that I had brought my camera as we walked back to the hostel. I still don't think I would have been comfortable taking pictures of random people and places in Kibera, but it would have been nice to get some photos of the kids and their school after getting to know them. So on my last day in Nairobi before leaving for Lamu, I went back to the school with Will to get some pictures of the school and kids, and to say goodbye.
If anybody is interested in volunteering in Kibera, but doesn't want to have
to pay thousands of dollars to an organization to do so, contact Kibera UK. They do a variety of placements, not just limited to teaching children.
http://www.kibera.org.uk/default.html
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