Once upon a time, not too long ago, there was a schoolteacher who didn’t want anything else but to teach. She had a job in Kibera, one of the biggest slums in the world. She was a good teacher and many kids flocked to her. She was so nice and kind that the children who didn’t have any parents anymore asked her if they could stay with her after she was done teaching. She said yes, and slowly her house filled with homeless children.

Unfortunately, after a few years, the kids took too much money to maintain, and so she was evicted out of her house. She did not despair, but rented a house just outside of Nairobi, in Ngong. There, she and her son Omari, started anew with the children. However, the house was not in a great state: there were no walls, so they built them themselves out of scrap wood; the extra land there was wasn’t used for anything, so they planted their own crops. Slowly but surely they built up a means to survive. However, they also took on more street-children, and with 37 kids it’s difficult to survive, but with the goodwill of her neighbours they managed.

That was, until the raiders came. Why they chose this house, we don’t know. Perhaps they didn’t care that it was an orphanage, perhaps the makeshift wall was too much of a temptation, but they hit the orphanage. Not once, not twice but three times. The second time they took the keys, so that they could keep breaking in. The third time Omari had had enough; he left a hammer underneath his bed, when he heard heavy footsteps outside the house he grabbed the hammer and threw it at the first person to enter the room, and chased them out.

He gathered the kids and placed them safely in the house, stepped outside and locked the door. Though he had routed the raiders, they quickly came back. He fought them off as well as he could, but the last thing he remembers is being slashed by a machete.

He now has stitches from forehead to mouth as the machete struck him across the face. The kids have been scared to go back into the house, fearing that one of those men is still lurking in the dark.

Fortunately there are also good men in the world. One of them has taken pictures of Omari and placed a cry for help on the online community site: Reddit. A hub for breaking frontpage news, a forum for many different Internet tribes and a breeding ground for funny pictures of cats, this website also has a philanthropic side to it.

Some of the other good men were mobilised, and overnight the donations started pouring in. Currently over $80,000 has been donated to the orphanage. This money is currently being used to build a wall, hire security and buy the property. The wall will be finished by the end of the week, and until then a Maasai guard will be patrolling at night with a bow and arrow (we’re not kidding).

This schoolteacher will no longer have to worry about paying rent, or being evicted, and the walls will keep the children safe. It is important for us to realise that bad things will always happen, but with enough good will and collaboration, they can be set right again.

After a quick stop at the Women’s empowerment centre, and concluding that the bears looked great and needed only minor changes to look perfect, we met up with Dan. He had someone with him: after a week of building a toilet and shower in an orphanage in Gilgil, and donating a cow at some point in time somewhere else, Stavros was back in Nairobi!

Andrew and Marzieh sitting on the front seat of the matatu

We took the opportunity and discussed the BRC and its crippling and (suspected) corrupted bureaucracy with Stavros. Egged on by his boundless enthusiasm, we invited him to come with us, and show up uninvited to the BRC – which would also help us keep Tuesday free. Armed with balloons, magic tricks, party whistles and many little bags filled with candies, we took a matatu to the BRC. Mary and Catherine were not there but, after a quick explanation to the security guard, we were allowed in the centre.

Stavros had taught us how to make balloon dogs over drinks, and so we began by gathering the children in the main hall and making each one a balloon (and teaching them how to make them as well). They were polite and easy to keep entertained – after all, there were now only 11 of them. We also decided to take photos.

Stavros, Andrew and Marzieh at the BRC

Storytelling at the BRC

After games, balloons and candy, we left the BRC with both the boys and us in high spirits and sugar highs. We regrouped back in Junction, enjoyed some dinner and hilarious conversation about how big women should be, how many cows Marzieh could be given away for, and how many camels Andrew could be exchanged for. He only got four, but that was primarily because he smoked.

Daniel and Stavros at Java, explaining the 'size of the ideal woman'.

Kwa Heri!

We were not allowed to take pictures, but were given free rein to walk around the centre, talk to the boys, and take all the notes we wanted. We now have roughly 4 pages worth of notes, but here are the highlights:

On the bright side:

• One of the boys (Patrick) was doing his math homework very quickly and accurately – although the level was far too low for an eight year old.
• There were three large water tanks to prevent shortage
• The children seemed to be content playing their game of football (and some were very good)

On the downside:

• One of the adults threw rocks at a starving puppy that lives in the centre (the puppy had strayed into the kitchen)
• The building in side is in a state of complete disrepair
• There was a lot of dirt and dust everywhere (last time we were there the boys were cleaning)
• The toilets were disgusting
• Many of the windowpanes were missing glass
• The clothes were drying on the ground and not on the lines (this could have been wind, but none of the caretakers had picked them up).

We became increasingly determined to start own centre, but saddened that we could do nothing for the boys here. They were no longer nameless individuals to us. They were Patrick, Brian, Eric, Mark, Joseph, and Mathew.

We woke up late (09.00) knowing that our first appointment simply wasn’t time bound. We needed to head into Nairobi to pick up some stuffing, head back to the women’s empowerment centre to check how the bears were doing, and finally head to Kazuri to place an order of earrings.

Conveniently, however, Rose was in town and could pick up the stuffing for us, which we could pay for upon her return.  She would be at the Empowerment Centre at roughly 13.00, and so we decided to meet her then. After heading to the centre, we checked the bears and showed which size bags we wanted, and then headed off on our merry way to Kazuri.

Fortunately, we have learned some of the matatu (mini-van) routes. Unfortunately, we took it too far.

After taking a string of matatus, we got off about five-insanely-driven-minutes too late, which resulted in a 45 minute walk back the other way. With the help of a few very kind locals, we found our way to the bead making atelier.

Kazuri surprised us beyond all expectations. We asked to see a manager to discuss a whole-sale buy. A man, who must have come from somewhere in the Middle East, turned up. After realising that we were going to sell the earrings for charitable purposes, he waved the normal ‘must buy over $2,000’ threshold and said that he would have our order ready before we leave – a 4 working day turn-around. In case that wasn’t enough, we didn’t have to bother leaving a deposit. This entire interaction, including the choosing process, took a grand total of about 20minutes.

Happy campers, we headed to Junction to meet Dan, buy food for dinner, and headed home to cook for Dan, Mama Rose, and ourselves.[1] We said today was easy.

The women at the Empowerment Centre proudly holding their creations

It was on the bus back home from Ngong Town, after an exceptionally long day out. We (Daniel included) were sitting in the back and serving as the bus’ free entertainment by singing along to all the songs playing in a generally, and genuinely, high spirit.

The day itself started early: We had to run a few errands in the morning, after which we headed into a market in Kibera to buy fabrics. We were charged far too much for the fabrics (per usual), but they were beautiful hand-printed cottons covered in wax that we intended to use for the small bags the women from the Empowerment Centre will be making for us. Once we had chosen the fabrics, we chose ribbons too and headed towards the Centre. At the centre, we had to do our ‘quality control’ of the bears. There were some changes that had to be made, but nothing too major. Even the sample bears seemed quite cute. Afterwards, we headed home to review our budget, eat lunch and call Dan; after all, we had all promised to come back to the orphanage the day before.

A matatu and an insane bus ride later, we arrived at Ngong Town, passed the markets, walked down a long street and then the dirt road to the orphanage. On our way, we passed Hassan who gave us a ‘push’ (walked part of the way with us) and finally we arrived at the orphanage to some shy, but smiling, faces.

Once at the orphanage, we decided that we should buy the kids some watermelon as a treat, and whatever else they might need for dinner that night, which included some charcoal. After heading out towards the market, we realised we would not be able to carry the coal, four watermelons (required for 37 kids), and an epic amount of tomatoes and onions. Fortunately however, due to being a Mzungu and a Bruce Lee, we got call outs from some boys playing football, one of which we managed to recruit as a goodwill helper for the orphanage. Walking a little further, we bumped once again into Hassan, who we also convinced to help us carry food back to the orphanage. It also turned out that walking around with two local Kenyans ensured good deals all around. Coming back with the food was an experience all to itself, as young screaming children insisted on helping carry watermelons the size of their little bodies.

After we delivered the food to the orphanage, we saw Tim once again, and went off to help chop some timber. Andrew now has a large, and rather bloody, blister to show for it. Although the tree did go down, it was already very dark, and we all grabbed one large branch to take back with us.

Back at the orphanage, there was singing and dancing and praying and food was already being prepared outside on make-shift stoves. We prayed with the children and Mama Moraa, grabbed our bags, took a few photos and bid them adieu.

It was at this point where we caught the conductor-less and insanely driven bus home that, after a few R&B hits, we got Rick-Rolled.

With Mama Moraa at the Orphanage

Grinding the corn to make flour

Over 180kgs of maize flour, beans and kale were taken from a market in Kibera all the way to its outskirts to the boys, in a wheelbarrow by Daniel and us. With us, we also had hundreds of crayons, some water colours and watercolour paper for the boys to play with. Finally, we were about to see the boys and the centre.

Wheelbarrow in tow, we came upon a locked gate. After explaining that we were expected, the management spent a long while wrestling with a rusty lock (which Marzieh and Andrew finally opened), the gates finally swung open and we rolled on into the BRC.

A lady with a toothy smile welcomed us while a few boys were milling around, playing on their own. We were later told that there are only 8 boys here at the moment. The food was carried to the pantry while we were welcomed to a small office by the side of the empty main hall where all the boys sleep.

Very formally, we were told what happens in a boys rehabilitation centre. Boys on the streets are rounded up by the police and placed in these centres, where they’re psychologically evaluated and given some form of counselling. They are then linked to an appropriate organisation: either one that places them in a more permanent home, or one that sends them back to their parents if they have one.

Flour, Beans and Kale

We asked about the state of the facilities here: how is the food supply, sanitation, education, and is there mentoring? Although the government does supply food every month, sometimes, due to the bureaucracy, the order comes in late and the boys go hungry. We were thanked for our generous donation, and assured that this would keep the boys nourished for a good three days… although we were somewhat confused as to how eight boys could eat 200kgs worth of starchy foods and vegetables in such a short period of time.  Sanitation was all right, but soaps and sanitizers would come in handy. The free education that Kenya has in place does not cover the boys as it is not exactly ‘free’. There is still tuition and uniforms and books to be paid for, something some parents, and these boys, cannot afford.

When asking what we could do, and sharing the goals of UGCA, we were somewhat ignored and then given a rather expensive out-of-our-budget shopping list which, at least to us, did not seem to mention any of the more important things the boys might need. While we focused on food, nutrition, sanitation and education, it appeared they wanted decorations, a better office space, and fixed bedposts (without the bedding). It was clear our priorities did not match theirs, and after being given a brief tour around the building, we left not having actually met any of the boys.

On the way back with Daniel, we began to discuss what had happened. We had all left with the same cold feeling that is hard to place into words. It wasn’t what was said (well…), it was how things were said, the order they were said in, and what was omitted. It was the feeling and atmosphere that bred distrust and corruption. It was the certainty that we could not work there. Regardless, we had secured an appointment for Friday at 10.00am, to ‘shadow’ the women in charge of the centre for the day. Maybe we are wrong and our first impressions are not valid.

We went to Java at Adams, a smaller shopping mall than junction, and sat down with Daniel for lunch and to discuss what to do for the rest of the day. We had expected out 20minute visit at the centre to have lasted the entire day, and now it appeared we needed to kill time.

Daniel suggested that we head off to an orphanage in Ngong Town, just outside the city limits of Nairobi, where we met Mama Moraa, her sister, and her sons. The place was packed with children – thirty seven of them to be precise. The children were all polite and cordial and greeted us one by one.

While still outside, we met one of Mama Moraa’s sons. With stitches from the top of his forehead to below his eye, he explained to us how two nights ago, their house had been robbed and in order to protect everyone, he chased the robbers out of the house. Unfortunately, although he made them flee, he was severely outnumbered.

We also met two volunteers at the orphanage, who had returned from chopping wood, and injecting children with tetanus shots. The third person with them was Hassan, a Kenyan athlete and an Olympic hopeful. After promising to come back to cook, chop wood and play football with the kids the next day, we were excused and could leave.

Despite the somewhat gloomy start to the day, we left the orphanage that night in somewhat higher spirits. We didn’t talk about it until we were home, but we had both been trying to plan how to start our own boys’ rehabilitation centre for orphaned boys in our heads.

On ou way back to Nairobi from Ngong

After taking the bus to Nairobi (we didn’t walk this time), we split up. Andrew was taken through winding roads surrounded by skyscrapers until the city council was in sight. While still in relatively good shape, the state of the building was nothing to write home about. Daniel took Andrew aside, and told him that he would do most of the talking, that they would talk about sending a donation of food and gaining entry that way (delivering the letter would only cause us to be sent from department to department). The actual project would be discussed with the head of that particular BRC.

After a quick elevator ride to the 14^th floor, they came across a small office space, where 13 people milled about. The aside was well advised, as the heads of 4 BRC’s were getting ready for a meeting. Daniel and Andrew quickly claimed some of the head of the council’s time, and after Daniel listed all of the awesome projects he was doing, and explained that Andrew and Marzieh were there to help. After being introduced to the heads of the BRC’s and phone numbers being exchanged, we went out with the prospect of going to the Woodley BRC the following morning.

One more errand had to be run first though. Daniel needed to argue a case for a talented child from Kibera to be allowed to be enrolled in a good school, so they swung by the education department. A world of difference was seen. Though the department counted 14 floors, all but one elevator was dysfunctional. The guard told us that we should go to the 1^st floor, after a knock and a quick explanation, we were sent to the 3^rd floor.  The kind man on the 3^rd floor sent us to someone on the second, who sent us to the 7^th, after a long flight of stairs (the elevator didn’t stop on the 3^rd for some reason), we went back down a flight and searched for room 628. This was not a hard room to find as there was a cue of 10 people lined up in front of the door, who were (as we later found out) attempting the same as Daniel. A long wait and a frustrating talk later, where he was advised to take it up with the school in question, they left the building. Frustrated, but with a larger resolve to improve upon the education system here.

Meanwhile, Marzieh had the more mundane task of finding the right fabric. Being escorted from shop to shop by Rose, the only fabrics they appeared to have were either white and blue towels (not very teddy-bear like) or terrible-quality orange ones. A long story short, a few hours later, the best option appeared to be to just buy already made towels. Roughly 75% over the initial budget and after much haggling for a ‘good price’, Marzieh picked up 15 towels.

Finally, everyone met up for lunch. Daniel went off to do some more work, and Marzieh, Andrew, and Rose took a bus back to Kibera.

The women’s centre was packed today! All nine women were there and we made a new teddy as the ‘certified’ reference out of the terrycloth, which was much cuter than the initial linen bear. The soles of the feet and scarves are made of typical Kenyan fabrics.

At 16.30, we finished what we were cutting and ran to meet Dan at, you guessed it, Junction. We discussed our plans and what would happen the next day, and so we were on our merry way on home after a successful day and a successful meeting.

Marzieh, Daniel and Andrew planning the next day's work.

At home Lincoln’s children and wife were visiting, and Lexi, Lincoln’s eldest, was determined to win the pillow fight.

The Pillow Fight

Tomorrow, we will head off to the boy’s centre with around 200kg of food. Put into perspective, that is more than the joint weights of Marzieh, Andrew, and Daniel put together. There will be maize flour, beans, and kale. Also, tomorrow evening, we will upload this blog since our internet has just cut.

We are very excited to finally meet the boys!

And so began our morning with Mama Rose explaining that Rose would be a little late to pick us up – but we didn’t care. We were finally going to go to the Women’s Centre to teach them how to make the teddies and check out how the new material we bought fares.

Mama Rose told Rose to take us to the centre the longer, albeit more ‘direct’ route. The one we could remember. With the usual calls of ‘Mzungu! Mzungu!’ we crossed the market, a main street, a smaller street, and finally entered the estate which housed the women’s centre.

Once inside, we saw Margaret again, and we began to cut and sew and look at other things the women make. About an hour later, with a joint effort, we had assembled a somewhat wobbly looking bear.

Margaret, Rose, Marzieh and Andrew at the Women's Empowerment Centre

It turned out that the problem was the material, and so we cut out another for Margaret to practice whilst we followed Rose to lunch and then to buy the terrycloth that we wanted to use instead. Unfortunately, we had all forgotten that it was Saturday, and that shops close at 1pm.  Since Rose and Margaret now both knew how to make bears, this didn’t seem to be too huge a setback, and so we headed home happily knowing that on Monday we would buy the rest of what we needed (including better threads and some needles).

On the way home we bought a few ingredients for dinner and once we arrived, we sat down and wrote out our budget: how much providing food for a year might cost, how much buying the bears/beads will cost, how much we will earn etc. Everything seems fine for the time-being. Afterwards, we made dinner.

Lincoln’s kids headed over right before dinner was being served. We had forgotten how much children scream when they are having fun. When they were leaving (a good 40 minutes later) we saw the guard for the compound peering around.

Tomorrow is Sunday and everyone’s day off here, and we cannot work on the ground, only organise our paperwork. We won’t bore you with a Sunday blog, unless something spectacular happens.

Kwaheri for now!

This morning Dan headed to the city council to see if he could request permission for us to go to the BRC. Unfortunately the man he had to meet was not there, and so he must head back again on Monday. Hopefully things will be sorted out then. We’ve now fallen into a slight time crunch since we have just under 2 weeks left in Kenya.

While waiting for the news, Andrew and I sat down to have a talk over lunch: what are our plans? What do we want to achieve by the end of our visit? And finally, what kind of timeline are we looking at? After a brief discussion, we realised that we have similar ideas in mind, or that at least, our ideas do not clash. The food and sanitation part of the project will be left to Marzieh, whilst the mentoring programme will be headed by Andrew. We also realised we need help in the form of manpower on the ground.

The middle of the day was not that interesting. We went to the market again, went for a walk, and waited for a call from Daniel. True to form, he called us at five saying that he is heading towards the Junction.

Meeting Daniel alone is an entirely different experience than meeting him with other people. Alone, he’s an open book, sincere, and with great advice. We sat down at a table in Java, an over-priced internet hub that he adores. Per usual, the internet stopped working well after six o’clock, so instead, we were left to all enjoy each other’s company.

After a few pleasantries, the atmosphere thickened, and Dan began to share his views, experiences and misapprehensions on NGO work in Kenya . His advice was simple, to the point, and from the heart. He explained how poorer Kenyans see Mamzungu, as rich people that can make everything happen, and hence he brought across his first point: do not promise anything – at least not until you are 100% sure that you can deliver. This is particularly important for our project, since one of the pillars it stands on is building trust.

His second piece of advice to us was not to rush in our search for people. To take our time and to make sure people are on the same page as us. Everything seems to come back to this. Without the same goals, our ideas will develop separately and a unified front will be impossible to achieve. Without the same goals, some people might not find the work rewarding and lose drive. After all, it is not easy work. His main point: take our time.

Lastly, although this seems perfectly logical it can sometimes be overlooked, talk with the people. Dan said that many NGOs come here and push their project through without consulting local needs. Shoving material things as well as values can never be a good thing. Dialogue is key.

Sure, we and most people knew this before, but hearing this so sincerely and from the heart really made us see that what we think and believe connects so well with Dan and his ideas. We’re very glad and honoured to have met him and we thought we’d share that with you.

Today we have a grand total of one picture for you, but oh-boy was it an interesting day.

Since everyone was busy and we didn’t feel like sitting around for an extra day or just spend the day doing things we can do more compactly on other days, we decided to head out to the markets. We remembered why we couldn’t go to the ‘Isli’ market alone; Mama Rose had mentioned in no uncertain terms that it was “full of Al-Shabaab” and that she would never venture there herself either. So, we decided to find another market on, you guessed it, Google maps.

Since it was only nine or so kilometres away, and taxi fares are steep for those that can be ripped off (the less we spend on taxi fees – even of our own money – the more we have to buy fabrics), we decided to take a walk. Armed with sneakers, sunglasses, sun-block and water, we set out on our pre-memorized journey.

The begining of our long-long-long road into town

After an hour and a half or so of walking, we reached another market about three quarters of the way to our final destination. What if this market had the fabrics we needed? We decided to cross the bridge that would take us over the highway to reach it.

On the bridge, we heard shouts of ‘Mzungu! Mzungu!’ in an effort to grab our attention. After which they grabbed our arms. There were five children, between seven and twelve, asking us for money – or fast-food. Perhaps saying no is the best policy, but these children literally followed us through and past the entire market (about 1-2km). Finally, Marzieh decided to talk to them and explain where they were from, what they were doing, and that what they were doing was in Kibera. The children then left, perhaps deciding that our situation must have been far worse than theirs.

However, we had crossed highways, streets, and alleys trying to rid ourselves of the children that once they were gone, we were not entirely sure where we were.[1]Trying to blend-in in poor neighbourhood markets on the outskirts of Nairobi turned out to be a challenge, and finally it appeared that responding to ‘Hello! How are you!’s, ‘Ni HAO!’s, ‘Ching-Chong!’s and cat-calls, were in fact the best alternative. At least all parties got a laugh out of it.

We finally headed into Nairobi, having given up on our quest to find the market. Until we asked someone, who asked someone else, who asked a mini-van driver, who asked their passenger. It turned out we were simply on the wrong end of a very long road, and that the market we were really looking for was called the Masai Market. Go figure.

Finally on the right end of the right street, we asked someone exactly where the market was. He then asked his co-worker, who asked the manager, who asked a taxi driver. “The Masai Market is closed on Thursdays – but you are more than welcome to eat at our establishment.”

Somewhat dejected, we found the textiles-merchant street where we bought some useful fabric and stuffing. So the day wasn’t wasted, and it means that we can teach the ladies how to make the bears without spending the days we have to teach them looking for fabrics. Hurrah!

Once again, we haggled for a cab and made it home (the driver drove primarily on the wrong side of the road. On the sidewalk. – Nairobi rush hour).

Soon after arriving home, Daniel called us. He was back in Nairobi and sitting once again at his favourite location: the Junction. We walked the 6km to Junction and met up with him to discuss plans for the upcoming days and to take out the remainder of our rent. When haggling for a cab home, we brought the price down to 275KSH, a remarkable feat by any standard, but especially for a Mzungu and a Bruce Lee.

Now exhausted from all the walking, we hope you lala salama. We sure will.