KUWAKARIBISHA. Welcome to Kenya
Reaching the technological world from Kenya’s Kibera slums
Forced to be alone with my thoughts as I spend the day flying across the African continent, I found time to reflect on my days spent in the East. Finding solace beside a well-brewed cup of Rwandan espresso, I hand-wrote my thoughts for the first time in a while. I wrote using a pen given to me by a sweet Kenyan man named Philip.
Likely no older than myself, Philip was born and raised in the Kibera slums in Nairobi. He was let go from several jobs in the service industry and, rather than trying again and expecting different results, he chose instead to focus his energy on improving the standard of living for the youth in his “chocolate city.” He’s often found at one of the various education centers, inspiring his peers to think bigger, while training them in basic skills.
I had experienced one of Philip’s initiatives — aptly titled “Kibera Tours”. Philip and his co-founders volunteer their time to take tourists like myself through the neighborhood for a first-hand experience of life in one of the world’s largest slums. All cash he collects from the tours is distributed as donations among the neighborhood organizations and social projects he illustrates during the tour.
Slushing through the muddy streets of Kibera, we barely passed a resident who didn’t know and love Philip. The residual fist-bumps we received for being associated with him made us seem famous, and there was no fear of mugging or approaches from beggars. We trudged through Toy Market, the largest second hand market in East Africa. I saw some stereos and records that likely haven’t made an appearance in the west since the 80s.
Approaching a marked doorway in the center of the community, we had the pleasure of meeting The Powerwomen. These incredible ladies came together to form a group of entrepreneurs, in the face of the shame and outcasting they faced among their community. Diagnosed with HIV/AIDS, these women chose not to sit back and accept the cards handed to them. Instead they challenged the perception that those with HIV are unable to work, banding together to utilize their collective talents in creating a successful business that affords them the income to support their families, a goal and dream to strive for and a supportive community in one another.
These women are reaching foreign markets, somehow finding a way to upkeep a website, a Facebook page and an email, reaching out to volunteers and tourists to ship their goods abroad. That’s more than a lot of small businesses in the US can say. They do this from the confines of an African slum, with minimal education and shoddy access to a wifi connection. They sew clothing, create jewelry, paintings and homegoods while maintaining a rigorous medical regimen and fighting a terminal disease. And all with a smile on their faces. These women are my heroes.
Later we discovered the team of men who actually construct all the souvenirs and “African artwork” sold throughout the city. They melt, scrape, cut, weld and sand animal bones in a process so taxing to their lungs and health I can’t imagine how they carry on for 12 hours a day. With a showroom for buyers and tourists, they record each piece sold in a proper accounting diary, ensuring funds can be fairly divided along the chain. Of course, they also encourage us to visit their website and like their Facebook page. Among the dust and the heat of melting bone, they too have found a way to make themselves heard in the technological world, from deep in the city’s slums.
The social projects going on in the slums are making a major visible difference. An NGO sponsored a massive waste facility that all residents are encouraged to use. Serving double duty, it keeps the streets cleaner and acts as a bio-fuel convertor, turning human waste into gas to light their stoves. Additionally, Obama took a visit to the neighborhood before his presidency. He helped to fund an orphanage specifically targeted to help children with HIV. Several NGOs have started schools, although it’s difficult for the children to attend as they have to pay and most cannot afford it. There was a central public school that burned down because they’re forced to source electricity illegally in order to afford it, and the lines are often unstable.
In this place, everyone is an entrepreneur. You don’t see people sitting on the streets, helplessly asking for a handout. They earn each and every meal, even if they’re few and far between. I momentarily found myself comparing the impoverished in my own country to those before me in Kibera. Imagine if everyone struggling in the states had the ambition and innovative thinking inherent in these entrepreneurs. What a different world it might be.
For a country who only now is celebrating 50 years of independence, Kenya is flourishing and incredibly rich in technological savvy. But just a few hours away from the bustle of Nairobi lies the most natural and undisturbed park lands, where animals most of us have only seen in books and movies roam freely as they did before human development overtook their home. It’s undoubtedly one of the few places left on earth that can boast such an uninterrupted and peaceful existence.
That said, the Maasai people who share the lands are possibly the most fascinating. Draped always in red checkered cloth, they live at one with the beasts of the park. Their wealth is measured not in material possessions but in livestock, their pride and focus. The Maasai will spend long days and nights in the park without food or shelter to watch over their cattle. Feared by vultures and predators, they rule the land from up high as some of the tallest people on the planet. They’re kind and gentle when spoken to but fierce in protection of their beasts. It’s pretty incredible that people are still capable of living this way.
From the safety of my safari vehicle, it’s easy for me to look on in fascination. But this is the only life they’ve ever known, and it seems they’re content in it. Our first inclination is always to want to help when we see people living without — let me help them out of this extreme poverty. But realistically they’re fulfilled in this lifestyle. Maybe it’s because they don’t know of any alternative. Or maybe it’s we whose lives are impoverished.
Before we parted ways, Philip told me he’d very much like to have a wife just like me someday (not sure what I did to be so charming). He also said he hopes whoever I’m with knows how lucky he is. Thanks, Philip. Me too. He gave me his pen as a token of his admiration and hoped that I will always remember him. I just might.
