Kibera thru the eyes of Annelie

Today we went to the slums of Kibera. The area we went to was called Kianda. Kibera is now the largest slum in Africa with a heart-stopping population of one million people. The entire area equals roughly 600 square acres. (In case that didn’t register…that means that there are almost 1,700 people per square acre). That leaves no room for claustrophobia. This is their reality and they live it every single day.

It was the second time I’ve walked through the slum. I thought I wouldn’t be affected as much…seeing that I’ve seen it all before. I was so wrong. The kids that were being shuttled home from camp today arrived in Kibera right before us. They clutched our hands and walked with us the whole time. Every few hundred feet, we picked up a new 3-4 year old child. We wondered if they shouldn’t wander away from their homes to follow a group of mazungus (white people). When we looked, there was no one to claim them. Their huge smiles and warm, “How are roo’s” make my heart skip a beat.

The stench lingers on my clothes and the images of what I saw today are forever burned into my memory…into my heart. I don’t think I will ever be able to see it all. The depth of the slum goes far deeper than what you see when you walk through. In each and every home there are the hearts of these people. They are lost, they are found, they are poor, they are rich, they are dying, but they are alive, they are hoping, they are praying, they are much in need of help, of rescuing, of salvation, of light.

The first home we visited was that of a woman named Evelyn. The home was pitch black in the middle of the afternoon and 8 x 8 feet (give or take a few feet). We were a group of 5 people, including Wilson, who guided us through to each home, and we couldn’t all fit inside. She held a lifeless baby in her arms. The baby’s name is Violet. She is one and a half years old and is the size of a 6 month old infant. All Evelyn said was that Violet was “sick” and needed to go to the hospital…that can mean a lot of different things here in Africa so I’m not sure what she meant. Could be a malaria…could be HIV…could be pneumonia…we don’t know. Her face was a pale shade of gray. The sight of her was heart-wrenching. Her mother could do nothing. It breaks my heart. But at the same time…in the very dark mud hut that we stood…I could see. God is here. He is there. As we prayed for Evelyn and Violet…I felt His presence and I saw His light.

We walked where they walk. We felt a fraction of their despair. More importantly, we caught a glimpse of their hope. Our God is so much bigger than those 660 square acres. To look deep into the eyes of the children of Kibera is to see the light that only God can provide…the light of hope…that tomorrow will be better than today.

The last lady’s home that we visited was infected with HIV/AIDS. When we asked her how she was feeling she replied,”Some days are good, others are bad…but I praise God because once I was dead…but now I live.” That is what this is all about. That is why I won’t make excuses any longer. I cannot not do anything anymore.

“Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.” –Isaac Watts

In His Grip… Annelie Ardan 8 August 2007