Dear Diary,
Yesterday, Christian and I met a boy. (Yes Christian
and I decided to grow up and work things out) A Boy. This Boy touched our
hearts and souls in more ways than I can possibly explain.
This Boy is a Street boy.
Driving past Jamia mosque in town; which is a favorite
of the disadvantaged especially the street families due to the giving nature of
the Muslim especially after prayer, Christian parked and started talking to
this 10 or 11 year old boy who came at us kindly asking for a few coins to purchase
a meal. Christian, whose father is a bishop often has the tendency of talking
to strangers and conversing with people most cannot even imagine approaching.-One
of the traits I so love about him
The boy explained how his parents passed away and he
was left under his Aunt’s care…well, depends on an individual’s definition of
care. The Aunt beats him physically, mentally, emotionally and psychologically.
The poor boy is scarred. My heart drops. This individual has 4 children and a
husband. Every morning at 4 a.m. the boy wakes up, makes his way to the local
river and fetches water to clean the previous night’s dishes, make everyone’s
breakfast and prepare all their baths. After this is done, he may or may not
get a beating and is sent off to join the others at school.
The poor boy is from Eldoret. Miles and miles away
from Nairobi.
Once at school, two things will definitely happen:
He gets a beating for being late OR he is sent back home and can only return
with a guardian. The latter is worse as he finds his Aunt already off to work
and the same for his boda-boda business uncle. The poor angel doesn’t know the
name of the Auntie, only the Uncle’s surname.
How he ended up in Nairobi?
His friends pressured him and he gave in. Friends
like himself, the only people he can possibly relate to. He figured, anything is
better than living under the wicked witch. Right? Right? So they began the
treck, from Eldoret to Nairobi (almost 300 Miles) often begging for lifts on
the way. Once in the city, his friends scattered. They already had experience
of the City Street life and he probably was a burden to them.
The boy wished to go home. Yes, he has learnt that
anything is better than the Nairobi street life. Even living under the witch! It’s
tougher here. He sleeps at a street corner if the building askari will let him which
happens rarely. Other times, under the Ngara roundabout. The issue of
Kanju chasing them is a constant and the cold and lack of basic needs haunt his
gnawing stomach day in-day out. Need I go on?
After this conversation, we gave him something so he
could buy some food.
My heart bled for this young soul; For people like
his Aunt who take advantage of other’s misfortunes, for the thousands of kids
who are abused every day, for the kind of his Uncle who never say a word
despite everything, for the people with the ability to help but can't and won't
because well, it is none of their business and they are too absorbed in their
own lives.
Want to know why I pray to God for wealth and
riches? It is so I can help others. I know how it feels, what it means to lack
a meal, to wear near-tatters to school and at home, to drag a shoe sole with
your foot. I know the feeling of being abused and unwanted. I know the meaning
of ‘Victim’.
For this, I look to change my world and touch the hearts
of as many people as I can. For this, God has to bless me, so I can bless
others.
Next time you’re on the street and its member comes
up to you, don’t hear them…listen to them. Open the ears of your heart and
listen.
Next time you’re off to lunch, take a street child
with you and show them they matter, show them you care. After all, good people
still exist.
Love,
Nyandia.
