Kibera

Africa's Largest Slum- 5 of September, 2009

There is something about playing a hand clapping game with a child who is covered in dirt. Who has a runny nose, snot all over his torn and tattered t-shirt that is too big for him and god only knows what all over his feet because his shoes are not nearly adequate in protecting them from the filth that has settled on the ground that he calls home. There is a tragedy about the smile on his face. Especially the way he giggles when the "muzungu" cant seem to get the game right and clap her hands in the right order. It is heart breaking, but somehow, beautiful. It is because he does not know that it could be better. But you do. He doesn't know what its like to try on a brand new shirt, bought just for you, that is clean and fits perfectly. He is unaware that there are streets that are not littered with "flying toilets" (human waste put in a small plastic bag and thrown out the windows) providing a walk way that is clean and clear and safe for his little feet to walk uncovered on. But you do. He should know what a just warm enough bubble bath feels like and the way clean and cut fingernails shine. He should know a father that loves him, that comes home from work everyday, puts him on his lap and reads him a story. That provides a comfortable home to live in and enough food to fill the needs of his growing body. Instead, if he knows his father at all, it is as a man who drinks all day, beats him and his mother, spends the little money that he has on gambling and beer instead of on food. He knows no better. But you do. There is no love, or comfort or safety. It is all he knows, and so he smiles and giggles because he is a child. But you know better. And all there is to do is smile, and try to get the clapping patterns right.

Kibera (key-bear-uh) is the largest slum in Africa, second largest in the world. It spans about a mile and a half and is home to over 800,000 people. This number is expected to more than double in the next 10 years. It is a labyrinth of dirt, mud huts, half naked children, drunk men, with little sunlight and even less clean water. The smell is staggering and it's difficult to look around you because you have to pay such close attention to where you are walking and what you may be stepping in. There is little education as most of the families that live in the slum are unable to pay the fees to send their children to school-a guarantee that this cycle of poverty will never end. Because without money, there is no education, and without an education, these children have no hope of ever leaving. This creates families that have lived here for generations and are proud of their slum heritage. They do not fight to get their children or themselves out. They simply accept it and take a pride in it that is hard to understand. How do you help a people that don't seem to want to be helped? How do you expect better for people that don't expect it for themselves? It is maddening. To know that it doesn't have to be this way. And yet it is.