Friday, June 17
I can't even begin to describe all that we saw and experienced in Kibera (the slum) yesterday... it was one of those days that are burned forever in your mind and held closely in your heart. Chuck met us at the hotel (very tired-- as he had waited hours for the team to show up before he realized the flight was canceled), we sat with him and visited with George (a pastor from Nairobi that has been driving us around) and Ombasa (another of Chuck's friends who helps Chuck in Kenya)-- while Chuck ate his breakfast. We loaded into the van to drive into the slum to Makina (a part of Kibera) where we were going to drop off a bag of supplies for Andrew's clinic. Kibera is roughly 1 square mile-- with a population of just over 2 million people. We drove in as close to the clinic as we could get. There are no real roads in the slum. The ground is extremely uneven with little "rivers" all over the "road" of raw sewage, rotting garbage, and water (?- if you could call it that). Driving in the slum is crazy, there are people and animals everywhere-- and other vehicles trying to get through the same small space as you at the same time. Stepping out of the van to walk the distance to the clinic, we were immediately hit with the smell. The kind of smell that burns the inside of your nose-- like the inside of a garbage can on a hot day mixed with the smell of urine, animal and human waste, diesel exhaust, and rotting flesh. The smell permeated everything. We were unsure if breathing through our noses was even tolerable-- we didn't really want to "taste" the smell
either. Even still, in the midst of all the dirtiness, the broken people and sweet innocent children were pulling at my
heart. Andrew's clinic was started a number of years ago-- with a vision to offer some sort of health care for the poor and needy. The clinic is eye opening-- and a far cry from what we would call sterile. They do lab work there, HIV testing (1 in 5 people living in Kibera has HIV and doesn't know it), prenatal care, immunizations (if they are available), some surgeries, and also labor and delivery-- among your usual doctor appointments. I was so moved by the condition of the clinic- and Andrew's vision to eventually see the clinic rebuilt. The beds in the 2 rooms pictured are the labor/delivery room and recovery room. The rooms are so small-- Andrew said on average 5-8 babies are born there in a day. Sometimes they can only let the new mother rest in the recovery room for a half hour before sending her home... because it is too crowded. Comparing that with the experiences I have had delivering my own 4 children was just heartbreaking. We take so much for granted... and complain when our room is too hot or too cold, or the food wasn't what we wanted, or the facility didn't have a hot tub or
private room or whatever it might be. And these women labor in these conditions-- many of them without any support from family. It is just so sad. In another post I will be sharing Faith's story with you-- she was a young woma
n I supported in labor while we were there. It is moving how incredibly thankful these people are to have this clinic-- where they don't have to pay if they can't-- and they are greeted by people who genuinely care for them. When we left the clinic, we walked further into Kibera to the school where we would be spending the next few days working with the children. The walk was sobering, observing the conditions in which people live. It was not unusual to see a family of 8 or 10 people living in a mud hut approximately 4 ft by 6 ft. That was their sleeping quarters, their bathroom, their kitchen, their dining room, and their living room. Most huts did not have electricity and maybe only 1 window. There were sweet little children everywhere. Sitting in the dirt, playing with old tires and empty pop bottles, crying because they wanted to be held, and excitedly seeking the attention of the Mazungus (what they call white people in Swahili). These SWEET children.... they don't learn English unt
il they go to school (IF their parents can afford to send them)... but they ALL know one phrase. "How are YOU?" They would all yell "How are YOU? How are YOU?" Until you looked at them, or touched their little outstretched hands, or at least acknowledged their tiny voices. Those who know me well know I had to stop for every single child. I absolutely could NOT walk by without looking int
o their innocent eyes and touching their hands... or heads.... or squeezing their shoulder... some kind of contact was always made. My heart couldn't 
take much more of seeing such beautiful and innocent children in such a place. We finally reached what they call the "baby school" (basically like preschool) which also doubles as a church. We met the teachers and had lunch with them. We then walked just a few steps up the road to the school to meet the kids we would be spending the day playing with. The school was in bad shape. The rains from the past weeks had caused an entire wall to crumble and much of the floor was washed out. The roof was about to cave in and the facility was also missing the entire outside wall. But, there the children sat, doing their lessons-- so adorable and excited to see the Mazungus. We left there to see the "new" school Chuck had purchased for them. It was also made of mud, but has 8 separate classrooms and new "toilets". The facility was much nicer than the other classroom we saw though still not ideal. Chuck had rented a huge soccer field for the kids to run and play on for the afternoon. These kids have no place to run-- and no clean place to play. The field is owned by the city-- and though not in 
the best condition-- it is MUCH cleaner an
d better than where they live. We walked through the entirety of Kibera-- we even took a "short cut" over a slippery, 12 foot high mound of rotting garbage (THAT was an adventure for the both of us for sure). We reached the field and waited for the kids to come. When they arrived, the looks on their faces was absolutely priceless--- all of them running and smiling from ear to ear-- laughing out loud that they could play for a few hours in the field. Many of them played organized games of soccer- with the teachers and superintendent joining right in on the fun. We played in the grass with the younger kids, held babies, held hands of little ones, told stories, and just loved on them all. Just a few hours of our time meant the world to these kids. By the time we parted for the evening, many of them were hugging on us and were so excited to get to see us again the next day. It was an incredible day. One that will forever bring tears to my eyes and a smile to my face. We learned so much about ourselves and we are so thankful we came.
