My First Day

My first visit to the Shine Academy was also the first time I visited Kibera. Kibera is known as the largest slum in Nairobi and one of the largest in Africa. As we drove along Kibera Drive, the road that led into the slum, we passed by a posh shopping mall, the French Embassy residence and rows of beautiful apartment buildings. As the road turned however, the apartments came to an abrupt stop. It felt as if someone had suddenly changed the TV Channel, from a daytime soap opera to a World Vision ad. The difference in atmosphere was that jarring. The smooth asphalt of the road gave way to dirt, pebbles and potholes. We bumped past a dusty field with a few clumps of trees, littered with vendors selling vegetables. Then, before my eyes, a brown sea of ramshackle shacks spilled into a valley as far as the eye could see.

I learned on that day that the distance between affluent suburbia and desperate poverty was about 100 metres, separated by live electric fencing.

The Shine Academy was situated in an area in Kibera called Olympic. Olympic was described by Javier as “upper-class slum”, somewhat of an oxymoron, but an apt description nonetheless. I later saw other parts of Kibera in much more dire conditions. The road that led to Olympic could be accessed by car, and was lined with shops cobbled together from pieces of wood and iron sheeting. Most of the slum could only be accessed on foot, so this was a luxury. Furthermore, some shops even had electricity, and it was possible to buy a cold drink on a hot day. Unfortunately, the relative affluence of the street also made it the prime target for rioters in the slum. And when the riots did occur, which were several times a year, the only protection between the rioters smashing up shops down the road and the teachers and kids at the school was a set of nondescript gates made from flimsy corrugated iron sheeting.

The school was a modest brick building with 3 main rooms that served as classrooms. There was also a kitchen (with two large metal pots), a storage room (with a big bunch of unripened bananas from the school’s single banana tree), a lavatory and a small room that served as Catherine's office. The yard consisted of reddish-brown dirt strewn with small pebbles, and was the size of half a tennis court. 

It was only later that I realized what a spacious facility this was compared to the other schools in the slum. One high school I visited in another part of Kibera called Lindi managed to cram 400 students  in nine classrooms on two floors over an area of about a quarter-acre block (about the size of a standard suburban Melbourne allotment). The high school building was patched together by hand, using random bits of wood and iron sheeting. The floor boards had gaping holes (through which one could see the students in the classroom below) and creaked threateningly under every step. It was a marvel of DIY engineering and a potential death trap.

Catherine greeted me warmly as she opened the tall iron gates on the first day. I was particularly struck by her smiling eyes, hearty laugh and commanding presence in front of the children. It’s a funny thing about primary school teachers, the best ones always walk a fine line between being very much loved and a little bit feared by the kids (only when they've been naughty). I could tell right away that she was one of these, when the kids gave her their absolute attention as she introduced me as “Teacher Kun”.

And the kids, where do I even start? I fell in love with them from the very first recess when they proceeded to clamber over me like little monkeys. A few of the older boys and girls were eager to introduce themselves in English. Some of the younger ones were simply happy to cling onto my arms or legs. I improvised with games of Simon Says, tag, and pretended to be a kangaroo to many squeals of glee. I soon had a small mob of little kangaroos hopping behind me in a large circle around the school yard. They were the easiest children to delight and please.

I only had one problem.

Much to my dismay, all the kids looked the same to me. Yes some were a little bit taller than others, but I couldn't even tell the boys apart from the girls, for they all had their little heads shaved.

“Don’t worry, they all look the same at the beginning” Javier joked.

It took me many more days to learn all their names.

View of Kibera, from the south

The Shine Academy school building and school yard

Such beautiful kids - but how to tell them apart?

Google map of Kibera

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A Serendipitous Beginning

I went to Kenya with very few expectations and quite a bit of trepidation with regards to safety. My Chinese mother was convinced that I would catch some terrible disease and never return. A scan of the Australian DFAT website revealed warnings about terrorism, muggings, robberies and the list went on. It also specifically warned to stay away from slums like Kibera. Okay I thought, I can be sensible and stay away from dangerous areas of Nairobi. Not too hard right?

My friend was doing a research project in Nairobi for the summer, and I had arranged to join him for a few weeks in Kenya. It would be my first time in Africa and I was glad for the break from my demanding job in banking. I had left Hong Kong with plans to go on safari to see some game animals and spend a few days on the coast. Between those two plans, I had hazy notions of volunteering, perhaps meeting some locals and leaving with some cool souvenirs. And then something serendipitous happened. I somehow ended up in Kibera.

It was one of the best experiences of my life. For 4 weeks I volunteered at the Shine Academy, a school set up right in the middle of Kibera by a couple from Melbourne – Catherine Whiting and Javier Martinez. The school supported 50 kids and their families, picked from the most desperate backgrounds. As I later found out, the word ‘desperate’ was an understatement in many of the cases.

It was at the school that I saw with my own eyes the huge amount of positive impact that two people could make in an impoverished community and using very few resources. I witnessed the power of love and compassion to create change, and that it was infectious. I saw what courage and sacrifice looked like in action and learned that they always went hand in hand. I was inspired. I was challenged. I was humbled. I never knew I could learn so much in such a short period of time. I left with a renewed belief in the goodness of people and a profound sense of hope for the future.

I am writing this blog with the aim of recording my experiences and the lessons that I learnt along the way. It is for my own benefit really, as memories tend to become fuzzy and important details are forgotten with time.

It is also my hope that this blog will help raise awareness for the Impoverished Children Project and the Shine Academy. It is incredible work that Catherine and Javier are doing in Kibera, and it is their story, much more poignant than my own, that needs to be told.  

Catherine, Javier, me, teachers Sheila and Winnie with the kids of the Shine Academy