When writing about Africa, one must be careful of two things 1) one must make sure not to idealize the country and shy away from the reality and practicality of the circumstances and 2) one must make sure not to overemphasize the suffering and neglect the humanity that is in each of us. For the most part, I do not envision this becoming an issue when writing about my experiences in Kenya, but today I find myself struggling in trying to figure out what to write about my experience in Kibera. Kibera is located just outside of Nairobi and dates back to the early 1900s as a place for Nubian soldiers to retire after World War I. While they still have their own section in Kibera, it is now mainly inhabited by hundreds of thousands of Kenyans. At the latest government census, it was estimated that about 350,000 people live there but many aid workers and residents of Kibera cite much closer to one million people in residence. In the western world, Kibera is known as the largest informal settlement (slum) in Kenya and the first or second in all of Africa (disputed with an informal settlement in South Africa).
Kibera is a paradox. So often when the Western World portrays informal slums such as Kibera, they talk about HIV/AIDs statistics, infant mortality, lack of sanitation, starvation, and listlessness. I would lose all credibility if I were to say that some of these characteristics were not accurately applied to Kibera; however, my short time there only served to show how Kiberans far surpassed the Western perception of them. Many characteristics of that list are true. Although I do not study HIV/AIDs, I am sure that they do not have an enviable rate and I know that rape and sexual abuse is common because living conditions place men and women in a context that makes it more of a possibility. It is true that the sanitation was poor- when visiting a school, we passed by several children urinating right next to us in a puddle by the door and there were flies and dirt everywhere. Additionally, it is true that the room for the woman with five children we met was smaller than my kitchen back at the AU, had mud walls, an uneven cement floor, and a leaky roof. Our friends told us that most Kiberans can only afford to buy food and supplies in very small quantities such as a spoon of cooking oil and there were times when there is little money and food becomes scarce. Some of the teachers at the school told us that the meal of rice and sometimes rice is the only meal some of their students get every day. All of these things and more were true about the living conditions of Kibera, but there is so much more to Kibera than negative statistics.
Upon walking in Kibera, we weaved through the mazes of shop stalls that suggest a bustling, if isolated, economy, and passed scores of houses with children yelling “Hi! Hi! Mzungu! Hi, How are you?” The first place we were taken by Tony and Sabina was to the railroad tracks that overlooked one of the communities of Kibera, giving us a better perspective of just how vast Kibera was. As far as we could see were the houses- some with colorful lines of laundries, others with makeshift antennas contrasting the fact that this is supposed to be a temporary settlement rather than a home. Backtracking, we were taken to a construction site where they have been working for 2.5 months on building a school with six classrooms for a group of about 140 children. The lady in charge kindly took us around the lower level and then used a piece of the wall so we could climb up to the second floor and look at all of the individual classrooms. From there we met a woman who, though she looked little older than me, shyly introduced us to her youngest of five children. She took us to her home, the tiny one mentioned above, and energetically wished us Karibuni (welcome) and answered all of our questions as we looked around at a space so tiny the 7 of us could barely fit when sitting. As we left, she wished us many blessings and welcomed us back to her home in the future so we could meet her other children (two of whom were sponsored to attend school). Never before have I felt so welcomed into a stranger’s home- a characteristic that I am quickly discovering is shared among Kenyans. From there we went to the current school that the students were using- one big room with about 130 students in it- 6 different classes all in one room. As we entered, the children sang a greeting to us and the teachers welcomed us and the students all reached to give us high five and share sweet, shy smiles- attention that I must admit I am still uncomfortable with. We were invited to look around, ask questions, high five the students with a degree of warmth that I know for sure my high school back home would offer to random strangers walking into a class.
The biggest discrepancy that I noticed between how the West portrays Kibera and what I saw is that the Kiberans were happy and productive. Never would I purposefully belittle the conditions that they were living in. At the end of the day, I was able to go back to my apartment in Westlands with running water, a working toilet, and spacious and secure living conditions. I can never know what it is like to be a Kiberan, but I do know that people are not unhappy and listless as they are often portrayed. Stalls selling goods, children running around the slums, and men and women going about their lives is a testament to the fact that Kiberans are not sitting around waiting for the Western World to assist them. When it comes down to it, this is a functioning community that supports hundreds upon thousands of individuals and could use assistance but is surely not at our mercy. They have their flaws- but then again what community doesn’t?
We were told early on that we should not come to Africa looking for answers- only for more questions. I must admit, after my trip to Kibera, the questions that I have regarding development, living standards, people, and just life in general only seem to be multiplying.
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