Field work in Mathere

Mommy B, sorry about this one. You may want to skip it, since it required a judgment call you may not love, but which was work related.

One of my major reasons for coming out to Africa was to get the chance to do some fieldwork and experience firsthand what development work could be like. Given that we had a lull in my project for a day or two, it was time to find a way to get out into the field. I had wanted to go do ag work, but that team was going to be gone 4 days, much too long for my busy schedule. Luckily, our Young Women in Enterprise program was looking for volunteers to help them recruit young girls in the Nairobi slums for their business training classes. Before I could turn around, I – banana republic attire, heels and all– was bound for Mathere, a shanty town just outside the city center.

While Nairobi is notorious for its slums, it is possible to be here and never see them, as most major roads bypass them. Going in with an NGO team is probably the safest way to see what its like.

About two weeks prior to my slum excursion, I had attended a screening of a film called The Kibera Kid, about life in Nairobi’s worst and biggest slum. It was made by an organization called Hot Sun, which was trying to jumpstart a homegrown Nairobi film industry by training kids in the slum. The big takeaway from the film was the permanency of these areas – Kibera is divided into villages, each with its own governance and community, and in some cases, rudimentary infrastructure. The film demystified the slums to some extent, but they still seemed like a no-mans land.

Our day in Mathere started with the team – about 15 Kenyans and 3 Americans – meeting up in a small church and nursery school for a debrief of previous recruitment efforts, an overview of the day, and a prayer for success. Then it was off to the far edge of the slums. The plan for the day was simple – in groups of 2-4, wearing huge logoed t-shirts, we would hand out flyers, collect information, and advertise the program’s information sessions later this week. We would do this in a mix of Swahili and English – most of the girls we were targeting had some education, and many of things we mentioned had no Swahili equivalent.

We entered the slums across from the army base, down a big dirt road. Small kiosks lined the “street” as did small one or two room houses made of corrugated metal. The residents sat outside their houses, preparing food or tending children. My presence attracted stares and little children, who cried “mzungo” (Swahili for foreigner) and greeted me with “Hi! How are you?” Initially, the girls we were trying to recruit were less welcoming. Somewhat blank stares met my stilted English with a little Swahili explanations of “business training, mukatani Thursday na Friday, na ni to secumi, Why Not Grounds.” Soon, however, an elder of slums found us a table, and the girls started to swarm (it probably helped that my partner in this effort was an animated young Kenyan guy). A number of mothers and fathers followed the girls, registering their daughters for the information session as well.

Our path through the village was easier after that, as two of the girls decided to play tour guide, and walk with us, becoming full fledged recruiters by the end of the walk. For the most part, being there was less uncomfortable than I expected – I had my Kenyan partner and our local girl guides with us the entire time, and the white skin and NGO t shirt also helped. A couple of times requests for information became requests for bread and money, which was awkward and not something I could oblige (I had brought nothing with me but a hidden pocket of cash and phone). We spent about 4 hours recruiting before heading back for a debrief and lunch.

The three biggest reminders that this was a slum and not only a friendly, vibrant community were the crowds, the trash, and the children. While the main road we were walking on was quite wide, the alleys between the houses were narrow, and the area densely densely populated given the area’s proximity to the city center. While there was some limited electricity and relatively freely running water, there were also the characteristic streams of sewage and piles of trash everywhere. Flies swarmed everywhere, especially around the kids. While the children were adorable, when you took a second look you realized that this one had a sore or that one was playing with rust nails or a third was being carried by a girl my little sister’s age. This was the big reminder of how stark the poverty was here, and how important our work – giving girls a chance at something more – could be.