by Maia Green

Children are amazing creatures. Mini versions of you and I, they have all the same bits and brains, but they’re not yet jaded in the same way. They don’t harbour the same cynicism towards the world. Rather, they possess an amazing love for life, a contagious positiveness that leads to hope and creativity, the very qualities we need in order to move towards creating a better world.

A few years ago, I journeyed to Kenya to take part in the UN Climate Change negotiations, and, while there, my eyes were opened to much more than environmental issues. My experience with the climate negotiations was certainly packed with learning, but the time I spent at a school in the depths of Kibera, Nairobi’s largest slum, taught me much more and impacted me in a way that changed me forever.

While the word Kibera means forest, I am quite certain I didn’t see a single tree throughout any of my visits there. Kibera is now home to a million people, who live without clean water or adequate sanitation, basic needs we take for granted. It is a massive area with a dense population and extreme poverty. Death caused by disease and conflict is commonplace and one fifth of the Kenyans living with HIV live in Kibera. Kibera is not a tourist destination and not somewhere that you can visit without a local guide. I was nervous about going there and envisioned a dark and scary place.

My experience began with a winding path through little passage ways and shortcuts over rickety metal bridges. We travelled past street vendors, cell phone shops, medical clinics and veggie stands (all miniature in stature), until we finally came to the little door in a metal fence that looked in at the grounds of Kisumu Dogo Primary School.

The office was tiny, probably about the size of one of our bathrooms here. I felt like I had been thrown back in time. Spread around the room were little wooden desks and piles of yellowed paper that looked as if they belonged in a museum, and posters of the alphabet peeled from the wall. There was no electricity, but one of the corrugated plastic pieces making up the roof was somewhat transparent and provided light.

There were 450 kids at the school, and one was attached to my lap within minutes. Her name was Linda. She was two-years-old, snotty nosed, wide-eyed and adorable. She didn’t speak; she just stared.

I visited the school a few times and each time I was more awestruck. I had thought that going deep into one of the largest slums of Kenya would be depressing. I thought it would make me want to cry. I thought I would be overwhelmed by how unfair the world is, and how hard some people’s lives are. I thought that while it would be really hard, it was something I should do. Oh, I was so wrong.

My visits to the school gave me some of the most beautiful, inspiring and uplifting moments, not only of my trip, but of my life. The kids read me poems and sang me beautiful songs. They smiled from ear to ear and ran around the schoolyard giggling and playing. They shrieked and screamed over the few tennis balls and skipping ropes I had brought from Canada and immediately began playing intricate games with them.

And yes, I almost cried; I was on the verge of tears the entire time. But not because I felt sorry for them. Not because I felt guilty and terrible. The tears were because of the beauty of it all. Because of how much the teachers loved the children. Because of how amazing the children were. Because of how happily they played with nothing to play with. Because of how excited they were that someone from Canada had come to see them. I was on the verge of tears because of how incredible it all was and because I was going to be genuinely sad to leave. I felt so welcomed and so comfortable in this amazing place, deep in the forbidden slum of Kibera.

I was not crying because the swing was broken in half and hanging six feet in the air, wrapped around the pole it was supposed to hang from. And I was not crying because of the pile of garbage near the little, wooden outhouses that some of the kids were playing soccer on. Nor was it because three classes had to share one classroom because there was no space.

These things were a reality, but they didn’t make me feel sorry for the kids. How could I feel sorry for people that were so genuinely happy? They wouldn’t have wanted that anyway. They were so appreciative of what was given to them and so creative with what they had, that instead of pity, what I felt was empathetic gratitude.

They had given me so much and I wanted to give something back to these inspiring and wonderful people. I decided to start a pen pal program between them and the school I was working at in Victoria. I brought home bags of their handiwork and jewellery, and have been selling it on their behalf for the past few years. I send them 100 percent of the money generated from the sale of their work and it is the most incredible feeling in the world because I know exactly whose hands it is going into and how it is being used. I keep in touch with the headmaster through email and his words are so kind that I can’t help but have a huge smile every time I hear from him. My dream is to make my way back there someday to see all of my old friends and to build them a classroom… and perhaps a swing.

But that is in the present. During my time with the kids at the Kisumu Dogo School in the depths of Kibera, those perfect small children didn’t need toys and fancy jungle gyms. They had each other, and for the moment, they had me. And they just wanted to play.

Maia Green was born in Victoria, BC, but has spent much of her life living and travelling overseas. She is a writer, photographer, educator and the founder and director of Friends Uniting for Nature (FUN), www.funcamps.ca maia@funcamps.ca (See article this issue.)

Get involved
Positively AFRICA (www.positivelyafrica.org) is a small non-profit with a mission to enable people infected and affected by HIV/AIDS in Africa to live with hope and dignity. Maia has connected her friends in Kibera to this organization. You may donate directly to Positively AFRICA, or get involved on a personal level.

The jewellery mentioned in the article is available directly through Maia or Positively AFRICA. In Vancouver, you can find it at Kali Trading Co and HT Naturals, both located in the Commercial Drive area.

The Kibera Community Youth Program initially connected Maia with the Kisumu Dogo School. They do amazing work, from environmental restoration to health programs. They are now actively working with Positively AFRICA on a nutrition and health project. Donations can be made directly to this group at www.kcyp.kabissa.org/

Also check out oaprojects.org/oas-project-rwanda/ for information about a group of youth who are travelling to Rwanda to develop local sport infrastructure and support improved access to schooling and healthcare for Rwandan children.