What I learned in Kibera: 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.