Little Prince Primary School: A Sparkle of Hope

Earlier this week, I talked with Vivian about visiting her husband’s school, the one in which I attended the benefit dinner for. With numerous contacts to people there, this morning I rode with Tomaso, the Italian guy living at icipe who works for the NGO supporting the school, to work. We ended up at a building and being under the impression I was going to the school later in the day I followed Tomaso in. I was immediately greeted by Mazu who was enthusiastic to have me visiting. Talking quickly, as he always seems to do, I caught about fifty percent of what he said through his thick Italian accent. I just smiled and nodded; I think the others in the room knew I literally had no idea what was going on. Mazu sent me to another office where I learned from someone else about the NGO they run. The NGO is part of the Association of Volunteers in International Service (AVSI) and is called Our Valuable Children (OVC). The man explaining the organization to me told me the same thing I had observed in Huruma. NGOs go into slums and often work there for three years on a project, feeding the people and giving them what they need. After those three years are up, the people don’t have anyone to rely on as they haven’t learned the skills to sustain themselves. AVSI works to give those living in the slums guidance if they seek it. Most training programs in slum areas pay people to attend. Needing the money, people attend not to apply the skills they learn but to put food on the table for their families. AVSI is working to give people applicable skills they want to have and apply. Most of the members of AVSI have children attending Little Prince, a private primary school funded by outside donors. The children at Little Prince are supported by OVC, which sends social workers to work on issues of abuse and with other family members, making sure each child has the appropriate home life. After hearing about the organization, Mazu was on the phone running down the stairs. I called after him, utterly confused at where I was supposed to go and who I was supposed to follow. He quickly explained the order the of the day’s events to me before sending me in the car with another Italian women visiting. This lady, however, didn’t speak English. I was at a total loss as to what was going on.

The driver dropped us off with Porzia, a lady I had met at the benefit dinner. We then took an hour drive and arrived at Little Prince Primary School on the outskirts of Kibera slum, one of the largest in Africa. The school was well kept for African schools I had seen. The classrooms seemed clean and the furniture supplied didn’t seem overused. Upon arriving, we walked into a nursery level classroom. The youngest student in this class was three. The children were so excited to see visitors. When the other Italian lady took out her camera, they posed in cute and funny ways, trying to grab as much camera time as possible. I took my camera out as well and began taking pictures. I asked a small girl to read to me what she had written. Her words weren’t fully formed, but she had the sounds of the letters down solidly. We continued into more classrooms where we took pictures and asked the students questions about their work. Most of the students spoke minimal English so communication was hard. The greatest lesson I have learned living in Kenya is despite language barriers, a smile can literally tell it all.

We toured the school, walking around and peeking into classrooms. Eventually it was recess time and we interacted and witnessed the children’s games. The older kids played hula hoop and basketball. The younger students played circle games, similar to the ones I participated in at the Children’s Home. I took more pictures of the children. Often times they would hold up the peace sign or put up their hands in the pictures. I wonder where this influence comes from. When I went to be in a picture with the children, they literally attacked me. A girl sat right on my knee, as if I was a teacher she had known for years. Other students touched my hair, mesmerized by the differences. Some even grabbed my hands and examined by pale skin. One of the smallest girls had her eyes glued to me. She would often get shoved out of the way as the older kids tried to attach to me. There was something about that little girl, maybe the look in her eyes or the slight smile barely visible on her face that was beautiful. All of the Italian people I have been around like to describe the school and the children as beautiful. I had never used beautiful in such a context before. What I witnessed today truly was beautiful.

A social worker came to take us on a few home visits around Kibera. As we were walking, the social worker explained to us how so many parents applied to have their children attend Little Prince because of the success rate. Sadly, many children were turned away due to the space limitations. We continued walking, passing many kids along the dirt road that should have been in school. We crossed a small, filthy stream—the water source for the thousands living in the slum. The water was over contaminated with everyone washing their laundry and dumping the dirty water back in. Trash piles were in any open space—there are no trash services in Kibera so people are left to burn it or just leave it in piles. The stench that wafted through the air was retched, and these are the winter months. I cannot imagine what the slum must smell like in the summer. The question of government aid came up and the social worker sadly explained there was none. Most, if not all, government officials did not even know where the slum existed. The only time the government officials visit is to buy people’s votes. Those running renew hope in the people, but always let them down. The strange thing is that a majority of the votes come from the slums.

Our first home visit was a few feet from a rail way. We were told that shack was built in an illegal spot and could be torn down at any time. I had never been inside the corrugated aluminum “housing” units. I always assumed people living in them slept on the floor or were living very primitive. The shacks didn’t have lights, but were packed with furniture and anything used for cooking. A mattress was thrown in an area separated by a curtain where the parents slept. The children slept on the furniture. Food was cooked around a small fire built on the floor. The first lady we visited had a business of making food for the local construction workers. With the money she made she fed her children. Ducks and chickens roamed outside, which she would sometimes sell for profit as well. The second home was even smaller than the first. I was able to squeeze into a seat in the first home. The second, there weren’t any seats available. In this home the child who normally attended the school was home sick. With no money, doctors aren’t an option for the people living in Kibera. All they can do is pray. Unlike the first home which housed four people, this home housed eight. The room was half the size of where I am living alone now. I can’t imagine. By the third home I was almost to tears. The lady we met there was the grandmother of one of the students. She ran a business of cooking food for people in the slum as well. The women who opened their homes to us were so welcoming. Most didn’t speak English, but from the sights I saw I was silenced anyways. The social worker explained how recently, the government had given an area of the slum a two week warning to move out as a road was being constructed where they currently resided; this was the current problem she was working with. As we headed back, children along the road greeted me with a smile or wave. The occasional, “Muzungu, how are you?” could be heard from behind.

Once we returned to Little Prince, we witnessed one of the Women’s Groups AVSI was sponsoring. Today the group was learning how to screen print t-shirts with paint. We also watched the children eat their lunch of beans and a tangerine. Most of the children were eager to eat, as a lunch is what brings some of them to even attend school. Sadly, a lunch may be their only meal of the day.

Porzia prepared a lunch for me and the other visitor. We ate tomatoes, bread, and tuna. Since Porzia is from Italy also, she and the visitor spoke in Italian the majority of the lunch so I didn’t have a clue what was being said. Porzia showed us all of the costumes the students used to put on their plays. I could tell that is where her passion in helping the students resides. After waving and saying goodbye, I headed back to icipe.

This evening I went on another run with the group. The run gave me time to think and reflect on the sights and lessons of the day. When Rafiell asked me how Kibera was there was only one word to describe it—depressing. I thought about this for a while. How hard it is for me to see poverty on the streets. And today I think I saw the most impoverished people I’ve ever encountered. I feel defeated, as even with any effort my abilities to help are limited. It comes as a good reminder to why I am here, to stop food insecurities around the world—one of the leading causes of poverty. In the midst of all of the heart wrenching sights, the school provides a beacon of hope and light for the future. The children I interacted with today were so incredibly happy. They laughed and smiled, if not the same amount even more, than the children I interact with in the States. I look at these children and many have a tenth, if that, of what those students in the States have. Each child literally sparkles with hope for the future.