It was hot day on 12 May 2004, my last day in Nairobi. All the scheduled meetings had been completed and yet there was still one thing I had to do. I had heard about the planned large scale evictions that would have made over 300,000 people homeless. I was determined not to leave Nairobi without seeing and interacting with the affected families.
Our NGO friends active in fighting evictions took me to Kibera. I saw with my own eyes, heard with my own ears, and had every sensation sore through me on the extent of poverty - the most demeaning conditions in which human beings have been subjected to live. Why is it that the poor have the worst of everything? the most hazardous places either next to railway lines or under power lines, highly cramped conditions, without proper drinking water or basic human necessities like toilets? Yet across the railway line that divides the poor and the rich, there were acres of well-kept green for an exclusive golf course benefited only by the elite. Yes I have seen poverty but not to such inhuman conditions. Yes I have seen injustice but not in such stark visual terms. And yet amidst such material deprivation and injustice, there was a wealth of wisdom – a wealth of energy and unfaltering determination for change.
Community Based Organisations are certainly active in Kibera. Just as we were walking the narrow lanes trying to avoid stepping on the precariously put water pipes that are just waiting to be burst, a group of smiling women emerged from a community hall. Amongst them was Mary Wanjiku Munene, a tall and an elegant lady – perhaps in her late forties, or fifties. From the way she walked and talked, she was clearly a leader, a leader in community affairs, a leader in community song and dance. Her weather beaten face told the story of a thousand struggles. An internal strength shone through her eyes, and she carried a certain charisma that mesmerised me.
Seeing an unusual and an obviously foreign face – Mary Wanjiku Munene – called out to me. "Hey YOU" she demanded. "You listen to me", and thus began her story.
"I have only known life in the slum. I was born here, and grew up here. I work hard to make a living for my family and what I have is very little. Why is it that I always have to fight for everything? Fight to get water, fight for a toilet, fight to make a living and fight to get my children to school….why is that when I fight for these basic things, I am considered a problem to the government? I have this very small structure where my family lives and now even that they want to take this away from me. How can this be?" she searched. I felt from the way the dear spoke that she wanted her voice to be heard and to be heard beyond Kibera.
With a tinge of sadness in her face she continued "Let me tell you my dear…...I am going to die very soon. Well, you would think that when I die that my problems would end. No – not at all. Even when I die, I will continue to be a 'problem' to the government because they will not know where to bury my dead body!"
Such is the reality on the ground.
These are the voices that are determined to be heard, wisdom that is waiting to be picked, and faces that are longing to be seen. These are the people in the frontline of the human rights struggle.
Kibera taught me in no uncertain terms that social change is necessary and at the same time gave me hope that social change is possible with the energy and determination from the ground. It is in the honour of Mary Wanjiku Munene in Kibera and in honour of many others like her that this part of the website and our work is dedicated.
To the voices of the voiceless and faces of the invisible in our society – welcome to the Dignity International Family!
Dignity:Thursday 08 June 2006 - 18:00:00
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