A day in the life of..

I did not plan to spend a day with a family here. I struggle with that concept to be honest. I struggle with the idea that we can 'plan' a program around exposure to poverty as a personal growth experience unless its very clear what the outcomes are. However, the following story just happened quite by accident.

Last Wednesday, whilst recovering from the respitory tract infection, I found myself in a two roomed house - one of a number of units in a block of 20 - with a small family consisting of a young single mum, her two children, her two sisters and her house help. This small family is by no means representative of abject poverty. The mum has a good job and earns about 200 euros a month.

The only way single mums can survive out here is through the use of what is known as house help. These 'helpers' are women with no children of their own, who live 24 hrs a day 7 days a week in the house looking after the children, cleaning and cooking for them. They get about 15 euros a month but are fed and have a roof over their heads.

The day began with breakfast - some chapati bread and spiced Chi (tea cooked in milk, sugar and spices). The children were then brought to school by the house help. On this occasion the childrens Mum and I went with them as the previous day the children had been sent home because there was a balance of 800 schillings (about 8 euros) outstanding on the school fees. The mum was really upset because her 7 year old had missed a day of exams accordingly. I had encouraged her to complain to the headmistress and she asked me to come along for moral support - hence my presence!

The road to the school led through a dump. All along the way I could see slum like dwellings with no sanitation or power. The underbelly of society here is really not far from the road....

We got to the school, we got to meet the head mistress and then I stood back and let the mum have her say. I found myself just outside the door looking into an open countyard in the middle of the school. Suddenly a heavily built man dragging a young girl of about 8 burst into the middle of the yard. The girl was made hold out her hand and then he hit her repeatedly with a willow like cane till she burst out crying. Then she was literally thrown into the corner and another girl was dragged out for the same. About 8 young girls were punished this way. Then a boy about 10 years old was dragged out. He was made lie on the ground and the man repeatedly hit him across his backside - again till he cried. He was then thrown into the group of crying girls in the corner. More boys were beaten. One child, clearly younger than the others refused to lie down so the man beat him with the cane around the thighes till he complied...

I looked on utterly aghast....then he noticed me watching. He came over panting heavily from his exertions, and introduced himself.

'What did the children do to deserve such punishment?' I asked.
'These are bad children - they need to be whipped' he answered.
'But what did they do?' I asked again.
'They were talking in class - they were disturbing others - so they were whipped' he replied.

Children being whipped for just exercising their natural curiosity and desire to communicate. The legacy of an educational system really about control rather than empowerment.

The most distrubing part of this story is that the man left me and went back to the group of huddled crying children. He then circled them brandishing his cane menaciingly whilst giving them a lecture. The man clearly enjoyed the power he held over the children who were all fearfully staring at the ground now.

My biggest regret is that I did not take a photograph of what happened. I only found out a few days later that corporal punishment has been banned in Kenya since 2005 and this very school was taken to court a few months ago for breaking those rules by a mother of one of the children here.

We left the school to do some shopping for the house. The mum had recently acquired her first ever fridge and wanted some help getting food for it. We used local transport to get to the supermarket (Matatus - converted hi ace vans that hold about 12 people at a time and move between fixed places in the city). It cost about 15 schillings (15 cent).

We got basic things like eggs, sausages, bread, milk, yogurts, drinks, snacks etc in bulk. To see the look on the mums face as she instantly relaised how much easier it would be now to feed her family was lovely to watch.

I bought some small modelling clay sets for the children as a treat.

By the time we had got back to her house the children were back for lunch. They looked so cute in their uniforms which were patched and repaired but ironed as well as one could. When their mum arrived their faces lit up and they ran out to get a big hug and kiss.

We had lunch together which was a bowl of rice some chapati and sauce. The children were given some fruit and some juice and then the house help walked them back to the school. It was about to rain so she brought with her two baby umbrellas - the kind you might see in a pound shop back in Ireland. I watched them walk away and was really struck by the image of three women in prison. The house help was effectivly a slave and the two children were in a school where their natural exuberence would be beaten out of them in time.

The young mother had to do a report on an incident in work for her boss. It was patently clear that the company was looking for a scapegoat given what had happened so I helped her write the report (in her own language) that absolutely exonerated her of any wrong doing. We did everything in the nearby cyber cafe. I showed her the wonderful google docs concept and said if she needed advice on documents that we could use this tool when I was back in Ireland - its a fantastic innovation from the google team!

Back to the house and it was close to dinner time. The house help had prepared dinner - spaghetti and potatoes in a gravy sauce. It was actually very tasty. The family eats meat about twice a week.

Then we revealed the modelling clay sets to the two children. Two sets that had cost less than a euro each. In the future if I ever need to remind myself of gratitude I will think back to the looks on the faces of these two children as they stared in awe at the two sets that I handed them. Two children whose most expensive toys in their short lives were a teddy bear each.

We sat and played with the clay. The mum made the alphabet using different colours. Then she showed them how to make cups and saucers and plates, then we made jewellery and then we made animals and birds. The egg boxes we had bought earlier became the store for the different clay colours. The plastic bags for the shopping the play area, empty bottles rolling pins and so on. For three hours I just watched amazed as this young mum and her two little angels laughed and played and learned.

Despites the confines of the space and the number of people present it never felt confined. Nobody has personal space in houses like this but people just get on with it. How much we take for granted....

Bedtime came and the children got into their pjamas - too big for them but thats the way with clothes here when children are growing.

The youngest child was scared to go to sleep because she had a broken nail that was hanging off and it hurt her at night when it snagged against the sheets. There was not a scissors in the house sharp enough to clip the nail so the mum was hoping it would just fall off in time.

I happened to have my swiss army knife with me and offered to try and clip the nail. I made the mistake of showing the poor little girl the knife and terrified her. She kept insisting she did not have Malaria for some reason and then her mum explained that she had been taken to hospital recently with Malaria and the staff had her hurt her with an injection. Anytime somebody tries to help her medically now she just cries that she does not have Malaria...poor little thing.

Anyway, I let her cut my nails with the scissors and that helped her relax. Finally but very fearfully, she offered me her sore finger and then hid her eyes behind her other hand. I felt as much pressure in this operation as I am sure a brain surgeon does when removing a tumour!

Thank God for the wonderful sharp steel in the swiss army penknife! In one quick painless snip the nail was removed much to the delight of the baby girl. She looked at her finger and then back at me and beamed a golden smile that would melt an ice berg. We put a plaster around the finger, she hugged her mum then quite unexectedly she hugged me and then she bounced off to bed.

I left the house about 11.00pm and made my way back to the hotel. What a day and it was only one day. Maybe we have just made life too complicated? So much so that we have lost that sense of beauty in simplicity? Of course resources can make life easier but they can also sanitise our lives too. It never ceases to amaze me how the human spirit rises when faced with scarcity and how it diminshes when immersed in abundance.

Suddenly I thought again of my great friend John Moriarty. How he would have enjoyed a day like this.