A week into my voluntary work at Cheryl’s children’s home in Nairobi in 2010, I had settled in nicely and was learning about the beauties of Kenyan culture as taught by the youngest members of the community. I was truly far from the glamorous streets of West London and my hectic life in the city, but the simplicity of Kenyan living offered a peace I welcomed without hesitation. Perhaps it was the charitable nature of my work, or the excitement of knowing what it means to be truly useful to venerable people or maybe just the appeal of my new vibrant environment, but all those things that I feared I was going to miss, such as having hot water, a washing machine, stable internet connection, or the ability to walk around after dark, became unimportant. And although Nairobi allows for access to most things modern cities do, I chose an experience fairly well aligned with the lives of most Kenyans, 50% of whom live under the poverty line .
Unlike most voluntary hopefuls, I had not found myself in Kenya through an organisation but rather out of my own initiative I had approached the director of the home directly. This allowed me save on administration fees and time, so that I can invest them into more worthwhile projects while in Nairobi. I spent two months in total teaching and working on self-sustainability projects at Cheryl’s children’s home and learning centre, a home/school to three hundred children aged between 4-20 years. Despite the disadvantaged backgrounds of the children, and to my utter surprise, unprecedented optimism and joy dominated the daily lives of the home’s inhabitants. The kids’ enthusiasm inspired me and other volunteers so much that we felt nothing can put a cloud over our time in Kenya, not even Malaria. Three days after being diagnosed with the mosquito-borne, number one killer of Africa, I was back at work. The three days I spent recovering, I also spent missing the children, but that hardly compares how much I miss them now.
It was a common occurrence for smiling kids to cluster around us shouting in their less than perfect English- “Cha! Cha! (a derivative of teacher), how are you? Help me with the camera!” On one occasion out of the corner of my eye I spotted a scrawny little girl, with short shaggy hair and a pink school uniform standing timidly by the iron door. Drawn to her for an unknown to me then reason, I manoeuvred through the sea of children. But by the time I managed to reach the gate she was gone. My efforts to befriend the girl over the next week were rewarded when I eventually met ‘Faith’, the most beautiful Kenyan girl whose past experiences had made her so silent, many of us thought she was mute.“Cha, why you like Faith so much?”-asked me a young boy, puzzled by my apparent favouritism towards the girl that never gave away much. I paused slightly startled by the blunt question and searched for an honest answer: “Because when I look at her stunning big eyes I see what glory really means; because she hasn’t so much as told me her own name (Faith) but I do understand its true significance when I catch a glimpse of her pearly smile; because when she puts her tiny, fork-like hand in mine she makes me powerful beyond measure”. I knew the boy understood as little as my benevolent intonation but that seemed to suffice.
For the rest of my stay Faith spent a lot of time in my arms, saying very little and smiling very much, but all the same bringing perfect happiness to those of us that were lucky enough to meet and spend time with her. Only Kenya is full of Faith(s), children just like her, with profound eyes, priceless smiles and a thirst for life that makes your heart skip a beat.
Our presence for poverty stricken Kenyans presents many opportunities, some in the form of exchange of ideas, direct assistance, stimulation of tourism or research for future development projects, others in the form of melting doubts about our indifference as to the social struggle that clutches many African nations. Nevertheless the benefits of undertakings such as mine are multidirectional, I invested time assisting with primary school education, but I myself remain indebted to Kenya for the education I in turn received, an education in honest humanity and compassion, two of the endangered species in our highly dynamic and complex world.
Magdalena Filipova-Rivers (UK and East Europe Coordinator)
