Breaking the Law

"Is Duncan up yet?" asked Tobias.  "I don't know." was the reply from several sleepy volunteers. "Ah ha," Tobias responds in his quiet thoughtful way.  This young 19 yr German has emerged as one of the leaders of the 14 volunteers residing here at Lucy and Duncan's house.  He has been up since 4 am helping some of the older boys from the orphanage make chai tea.

It is 5 am now and we head off to the city center in
Nairobi to pass out butter and jam sandwiches and tea to the people sleeping on the streets. We pile into the mini van, Peter, informs me in a matter of fact way that we are going to the place where he used to sleep.  He is in his early twenties now, but he lived on the streets for 1 year and 3 months when he was 12 yrs, until he met a friend who told him about the Gathiga Orphanage.  He is one of the success
stories, a well spoken educated young man with a talent for painting.  He came with us today to show the children currently living on the streets the possibility of their future.

As we head down the bumpy road, with only 9 people in the mini van this morning -- quite comfortable, compared to the 12 or more we usually cram in -- Tobias tells me about a few of the conversations he has had with the children he met while street feeding.  Once they told him of another child who was drunk and fell into the river and drowned. Another time they were talking about a man who was lying under the bridge very close to dying.  Tobias was in Nairobi one afternoon and ran into one of these children he met during an early morning street feeding. He had a conversation with the boy and a police officer noticed and later beat the child with a metal pipe, just for speaking with Tobias.

We have to head out early, because giving food to anyone living on the streets is illegal.  As we arrive in the city center, we cruise around to the usual sleeping spots, waking up the people and inform them of our meeting spot.  Tobias, Peter and a few others jump out to help.  It doesn't take long.  For the last 3 months, with the help and funds from the volunteers, they have been doing this every 1-2 weeks.  Previously, Duncan, was only able to come once every couple of months.

Upon arrival in the alley, we have a crowd around the van.  We jump out and James hands me a tea pot.  For the next 10-20 minutes all I see are cups and discarded water and soda bottles that I carefully fill with the hot chai tea.  I try and fill the contains held by the smallest hands first.  Two patient little boys who are not taller than my waist are the first faces I see.  They are at eye level with my teapot.  I go out of my way to refill their bottles.  Their mother's face has no expression, however her eyes show gratitude.  The desire seems endless, however our supply of 3 large 5 gallon containers eventually runs out.  When I look around, I ask my fellow volunteers, Timmy and Cindy, if we have finished passing out the sandwiches.  They confirm that all are gone, but I don't see anyone eating.  They have finished already. The previous evening we had an assembly line making double-decker sandwiches out of 10-15 loaves of bread. The crowd surrounding us this morning, has devoured them so quickly, indicative of the need.

After our supplies are depleted we spend some time visiting.  I speak with several boys who are around the ages of 12-14.  Almost all have small containers of glue, shoved up their sleeves or in their hands.  They habitually sniff it to help them forget their situation.  The aroma of alcohol is everywhere.  All the children are boys, I don't see any young girls.  I am not sure why.  Angelina a woman in her twenties puts her arm around me for a photo that Duncan is taking.  She then gives me a hug and tells me that she has two children who reside at Gathiga orphanage and to tell them that Mommy says hello.  She says she has 7 children in total.  The smallest is with her, he is 19 months.  She also reeks of alcohol.  I promise that I will give her children the message.

As the street light turns off and the sun begins to rise, we get back into the van to head home.  A few of the boys accompany us around the corner.  One even jumps onto the back of a pickup truck hanging on precariously, waving and smiling until the vehicles part ways.  There is an audible sigh of relief as we see him jump off safely.

The van is quieter on the way home as we all contemplate our experience.  Peter breaks the silence, describing the gap between the rich and the poor in Kenya, as we pass through a wealthy area.  There is no middle class here.

I think this is the first time I have broken the law in a foreign country and I would do it again in a heartbeat.