African Children Deserve Better

Today was a great day. We went to celebrate Africa Children's Day in Naivasha, which is where the district office for the area schools is located. It took us about 30 minutes to get there from Naomi's Village. The best thing about today was: the event was starting at 8:30, we arrived an hour late... And we were still the first school there! Flo (the NV Social Worker) and I had a big laugh about that. Luckily, I knew some of the details about today because some friends from last years team got to go in 2013 so I was able to prepare Ashley and Allie. Info Point #1- if you have to use the bathroom, just don't. Don't do it. Info Point #2- many Kenyan school children will swarm around you wanting to touch your skin and hair. Do not be afraid.

One thing I wasn't prepared for was the 30 minute parade we walked with all the schoolchildren and teachers. We walked through the streets of Naivasha, declaring free compulsory education for all African children. There were signs stating, "Stop the Abuse" and "No More Rape". This event started in 1991. After 23 years, I wonder how much has really changed.

What I mean is this: we were sitting after the parade, listening to school after school recite poems and act out skits about children getting free compulsory education... And up walk two chokolas (street children)- a brother and sister. They were dirty, with clothing much too big for them, and certainly didn't belong to any of the school represented at the celebration. They see this gathering of children and adults, and walk up to have something to do on an otherwise ordinary Monday. And you know what happened? They were largely ignored for much of the day. No one spoke to them, no one paid them any mind at all- it was as if they were invisible. I am smiling and waving, like the crazy mzungu that I am- and all I get in return are wary stares from this brother and sister. The boy is about 7 and the girl is about 4. After awhile, I am given a seat under the shaded tent, near where these two children are sitting on the ground. I get the girl to come to me, but she knows no English. I pick her up and place her in my lap. The lady next to me helps me learn her name - it is, of course, Faith. This makes me well up with tears. I just hold her, patting her back, giving her hugs, stroking her face... She is dirty and has some sort of dry skin condition on her scalp. Her shirt is stained brown and is falling loosely around her shoulders. I just keep saying to her, "Nakupende, Faith." (I love you, Faith). She lays her head on my shoulder, and sighs deeply. I am sitting in here in the midst of a rally for free compulsory education, and I'm the only one noticing these two tag-a-longs?

When it was time to go, Faith would not let go of my hand. I had to get Teacher David to help communicate to her that it was time for us to go. All I could think of when I was with her was that I wanted to help her, give her something. Yet nothing I possessed at that moment would benefit her. Instead I attempted to give her an intangible something- love. I hope that she felt loved and comforted for those 30 minutes I was holding her.