Much like the previous post, we’ve asked a few of our friends who spent time this summer in Kenya to share their thoughts. It’s been great hearing how they have been moved to respond to situations that they have been immersed in. The text below is an excerpt from Natalie’s journal.
I had my first wake up call to poverty today when we walked around one of the largest slums in Africa called Kibera. I’m trying to find the words to describe Kibera; all of my senses were awakened. Kibera houses two million people and the huts were nearly as far as my eyes could see. Wood, mud, animal poop, and jagged sheet metal was the material used for their schools, homes, and businesses. Walking around in the streets was hard physically and emotionally. Breat hing in air was cloudy and thick, and constituted a lot of sneezing.
My throat thickened with smoke and grime as I took each breath. The roads were winding and rocky and the only way to walk without tripping was looking down at the ground with each step. The busyness of the streets is still ringing in my ears, hearing men, women and children shouting in Swahili. Raw meat, crops, food, clothing, hair salons and other businesses surrounded us as we continued on. Everything was so crammed, it was as if everyone were literally piled on top of each other. Afterwards, we continued walking into the slum, only to have my eyes opened deeper to poverty. I stepped off the plane in Africa convinced that I’d full grasped the concept of poverty, but the Lord humbled me at the flick of a finger. Walking around Kibera yielded many sights. Men, women, and even children sleeping in the streets next to garbage and livestock. J ohn shared with us seeing a small child fully awake and lying face down in the dirt…the sheer epitome of hopelessness. Heart-wrenching is an understatement as to the smell and sights of Kibera. Children going to the bathroom in the middle of the street, animals rummaging through trash right next to a raw meat kiosk, body odor and human excrement-all these with the added sight/smell of garbage burning. The sad truth was, the garbage was burnt as means to rid the overflow piling in the streets. Yet despite these circumstances, God is there; the people survive. Smiles and waves followed us as we walked on.
One sound in particular that I will never tire of hearing: “MIZUNGU! HOW ARE YOU!” which was the only English the small children knew; it’s a sound that I’ll take back with me to America. Crowds of children approached us chanting that same phrase over and over with beaming expressions. I took pictures of them and showed them the what they looked like. Having not been used to seeing themselves, they giggled and laughed with joy.
Looking into their eyes, I remembered Megan Sullivan’s advice before leaving home and wanted to make an effort to give each of them a small part of me. I did just that, even to the point of correction from Ben Hardman (lol). Two little girls are etched into my memory especially; I approached them, shook their hands, and told them how beautiful they were. They timidly laughed and came closer towards me. As my group pressed on, I waved goodbye to them and started to walk on, when I felt two little chapped hands slip into my palms. As we walked on , these girls held onto me tightly, as if my hands held their hope or security. We reached a point where the kids could no longer come with us, as their neighborhood ended. I knelt down on the rocky ground, bid them a final goodbye, and wrapped my arms around both of them individually. They clung to my shoulder and everything in me wanted to just stay there; but I let go and the girls stood there, watching me walk off with my group. I was dirty & my knees were scraped from kneeling on the rocks, but I actually dread the day they heal back, because I want to glance at the scars and remember what God showed me in Kibera. I was never able to learn the names of those little girls due to the language barrier, but I’ll never forget them.
-Natalie
« Reflections on Kenya | how much of my money actually goes to the cause? »
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Sara White
10.02.09
Hey…I spent 7 weeks this past summer in Kenya, working in an orphanage in a nearby slum called Huruma. It’s encouraging to know that more people are seeing this part of the world.
Lee Lagomarcino
10.06.09
Sara, thanks for sharing! Did you ever cross paths with LIA?
Kisumu Tshirt | SpendYourself
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[...] Kibera Journal [...]