Dan attempts to put Kibera into words

As if to underline that Kenya is one of the most unequal countries in the world (sorry, I know I keep saying it), our lovely trip to coast was immediately followed for me by getting up at 5am to go to Kibera slum the next day.

I was joining two members of Special Education Professionals to visit some health clinics in Kibera to find out what information and services they provided for children with special needs, and to spread the word about SEP. We were also trying to find out whether they are putting enough emphasis on early intervention, developmental milestones and diseases that often cause disabilities (like meningitis and malaria, which often go untreated in babies and children and lead to cerebral palsy, developmental delay and other issues).

I’ve been struggling to find words to describe Kibera, which explains why I haven’t posted about it before. Here’s my first, fairly limited, attempt…

A few key facts about Kibera:
Size = 1 square mile
Population = Unknown, estimates range from 170,000 to 1 million
Percentage of Population under 15 years old = 50%
Percentage of Kiberans infected with HIV/AIDS = 10%-25%
Typical Size Home = 10 x 10 feet
Average Daily Income = $1.25

Source: http://cfk.unc.edu/whatwedo/whykibera/
Wikipedia is also worth a read - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kibera

Walking through Kibera I find we tend to walk in silence. And my thoughts go from hopeful to despairing almost every step…

Hope: As I arrive at Olympic, at the top end of Kibera, and think “this isn’t that bad”.
Despair: As we descend into Kibera-proper, crossing the Nairobi-Kampala railway line, and it gets much much worse.
Hope: As a line of children smile, wave at us and shout “how are you how are you how are you”…
Despair: …while they’re peeing, in unison, into an open sewer running through the middle of the passageway. And they’re barefoot.
Hope: People everywhere making the best of what they’ve got, and living, and singing, and talking, and doing business.
Despair: The overwhelming stench from the rivers of shit. Streams of bluish-black water, rubbish everywhere, and chickens and dogs feeding on it all.
Hope: Being welcomed by a well-funded clinic that provide healthcare, feeding programmes, ante-natal care and immunisations. And learning the story of Carolina for Kibera and the partnership between a Kibera resident ex-nurse and an American under-grad which led to this amazing project.
Despair: Looking out from the clinic windows and realising just how vast the slum is.
Hope: Feeling more safe than I thought I would (probably because I’m carrying no possessions, am walking purposefully, am wearing a branded NGO t-shirt, and am accompanied by a local).
Despair: Imagining being here in the slum after dark (amongst other things, crime and violence are predictably rife, and much of it is directed at girls and women).
Hope: Hearing that communities here will often look after children not their own – the many Aids orphans here.
Despair: Not knowing how to “fix” this.
Hope: The many organisations and individuals trying.
Despair: The frustrating lack of knowledge about which NGOs are doing what in Kibera – the overlap, the duplication, the feeling that it could all be better coordinated.
Despair: Wondering how on earth this can exist in our world at the same time as all the wealth and privilege not shared.
Despair: Imagining living here.