Yesterday was quite a fascinating day in Kibera. Today on the other hand, I relaxed for a bit, finishing a book and starting another, as well as typing up some of my notes so far. I’m a little tired currently, so I will skip most of the details of the day, and just mention each of the interesting or bizarre things that occurred.
Synopsis: I was in Kibera again all day in order to continue my research. Ken led me around again, and Matt decided to come to Kibera as well.
The Friend: Soon after we arrived in Kibera, Matt commented to Ken that he knew a lot of people around town, as we had to stop every thirty seconds for him to talk to somebody. Ken then agreed that he knew many people and pointed out that he knew a man who was across the street. The man was sitting in and picking through an enormous pile of garbage. Ken called him over and asked what he was doing. The man was covered in soot and garbage and was explaining that he was collecting it to sell. He was not completely there though. Something seemed a little off. Ken introduced him to us and told us that they went to college together. He tried talking with the man for a minute or two, but most of what he was saying did not make a whole lot of sense. The man then asked for help and said, “Watch, I can do tricks”. He then proceeded to do a split. It was the single most uncomfortable experience I have been in so far while in Kenya. Ken gave him a few coins and as we were walking away, Ken told us that they were in the same class, and that he had a lot more money growing up than Ken himself did. He told us that there are other factors then just money that affect how people turn out. It was just such a stark difference. Two young kids, coming from the same place. One ends up being a successful community activist, the other, a likely burned out from drugs beggar, picking through trash and doing tricks for some spare change…
The Drunkenness: Ken pointed out early on that Sunday is the major day for drinking in Kibera. Apparently, alcoholism is a pervasive problem in the slum. Throughout the day, we would see drunken people stumbling on by, yelling obscenities and falling over themselves...
The Art Studio: At one point, Ken brought us to this art studio in the slum. Inside were a few of the artists who were part of an art collective that worked out of this one studio. The walls were covered in their artwork, some of it quick comical, and full of political commentary. They told us how they have art hanging all around Kibera. They might be a group to get involved with the data center to help represent data in a variety of forms. As we were there, this man came in whose hair was in dreads. He asked for my name. When I told him it was David, he proceeded to tell me the following: “You are David. You live down in the hole you fight the lions in the dirt under the ground you feel the air it surrounds you everywhere the air it touches it moves it flows around your body it keeps going it flows the air the life force you fight the lions…” he trailed off. He then turned to Matt and ranted in much the same way, except about how Matt wrote the gospel of Matthew in the bible. He was very obviously high on something more than alcohol...
The Rat: We were in the house of one of Ken’s friends talking about the data center. The man told us that the houses are very poorly built in Kibera and they need to be fixed up. As if on cue, immediately after he said that, a huge rat scurried by on a ledge behind his head...
The Fight: As we were leaving Kibera we walked past a big fight going on between a few people. They were obviously drunk and just brawling. We quickly evaded them to avoid getting drawn in...
The Police Officers: After we had left Kibera, we were walking through Kilimani about a block from our house when two police officers came up behind us and stopped us. They asked for our IDs and we quickly complied by showing them our driver’s licenses. They continued walking with us for a few minutes, interrogating us about what we were doing here, where we were coming from, where we were going. One then asked me if it was true that in the United States, police officers don’t carry big guns. In Kenya, the police walk around with very large, automatic machine guns. They are actually quite unsettling to see everywhere. I told them that it was true; in the US they only use small side arms. He seemed disappointed, and said that his gun was easier to shoot people with. When we got to our block, they left us alone, but I think they were probably trying to get a bribe out of us. Bribes are a pretty typical way of life here...
What a day…
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