The Street Boy

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.