Former street boy brings hope to Kenyan slum

NAIROBI – Elijah Mwaura lost everything when his father was run over by a car and killed five years ago – a home, an education and a role model.

Without a breadwinner, Mwaura’s mother took her six children to live on the streets of Nairobi where they begged for food. Like many of Kenya’s tens of thousands of street children Mwaura sometimes stole to survive, a necessary tactic for those at the bottom of the heap in a country of 32 million people, most of whom scrape by on less than a dollar a day.The 15-year-old’s deliverance from a life of more serious crime – the carjackings, robberies and rape that fill endless newspaper inches – came in the unlikely form of Sammy Gitau.A former street boy himself, Gitau now leads a project in Nairobi’s Mathare slum which tries to give children some basic education, training and the chance to let off steam with sport.His cash-strapped Mathare Community Resource Centre is one of tens of thousands of African-run grassroots non-governmental organisations (NGO) struggling to make life better for millions of people in the world’s poorest continent.”I admire and identify with Sammy.He was a street boy like me.He is my hero and I take his word seriously,” Mwaura said.”But Sammy can’t provide my entire family’s needs, hence I must do other things.I don’t steal now because it is a dangerous thing,” he says without elaborating, his eyes darting restlessly as they search for ways of making money.LIVES OF DRUGS & CRIME Based in an abandoned cargo container, Gitau’s group trains youths in carpentry, reading, sports and work skills for women, all on less than US$100 a month.Perhaps his most valuable work is just talking to youths trying to quit lives of drugs and crime.Unlike larger NGOs, especially those employing Western and Asian expatriates, Gitau’s all-volunteer centre has no Web site, no four-wheel-drive cars and no offices in wealthy suburbs.Nor is it a regular at the seminars held almost weekly in top Kenyan hotels, where aid specialists from around the world fly in to discuss African poverty and conflict.The group does have the backing of the community it serves.Born and bred in crime-infested, densely populated Mathare, Gitau (33) understands street children better than most.”Growing in this environment was tough.My parents were brewing chang’aa (illicit alcoholic brew) to put meals on our table.So I would choose between studying inside the single room or giving way to customers (seeking a drink),” he said.”It was just a matter of time before I was initiated into this life.I smoked marijuana, took cocaine and eventually ‘graduated’ into the streets where we did all sorts of things …(including) stealing,” he recalled.Dynamic, small NGOs like his, rooted in the community, are often seen as the “bottom up” help Africa sorely needs.But many lack the skills to win funding, and those that do often lose the money to graft, theft or to relatives of staff who pressure them for handouts – big risks in places mired in extreme poverty.Gitau gets by on non-cash aid such as donated equipment from the Japan International Cooperation Agency, Japan’s state aid arm, as well as a trickle of private donations.TOUGH LIFE Given Kenya’s deepening poverty, Gitau has his hands full.Months after winning an election in 2002, President Mwai Kibaki embarked on an ambitious plan to end juvenile street crime.But a couple of years on, street children still patrol Nairobi’s pavements hoping for a few shillings for food or glue.Gitau is determined to save Mwaura from the streets.”He is intelligent …but sometimes it pains me that he unblocks sewage with his bare hands just to eke out a living,” he said.When counselling slum youths, experience helps.Gitau was almost killed by a crowd that beat him unconscious for trying to rob a man in Nairobi in 1985, a regular risk for street children on a continent where policing is weak and mob justice strong.He survived a second mob beating later that year, before overdosing on cocaine and spending weeks in a coma.It was a turning point.”I prayed to God for a last chance to help my folks in the slums,” he said.One of Gitau’s successes is Judy Wanjiku (30), whom he helped to become a tailor.”I had lost hope in life and was selling illicit stuff.I can now fend for my children,” she said.But for every success, there are failures.Next to Gitau’s centre is a dirt pitch where boys aged between six and 17 play football every day after a free breakfast from a church group.Even during matches, half the players cradle bottles of glue.High on the fumes, they stagger after the ball.”You can’t just stop them from such habits abruptly.You take them from one step to the next, slowly,” Gitau said.”We succeed with some, while we don’t with others.”- Nampa-ReutersLike many of Kenya’s tens of thousands of street children Mwaura sometimes stole to survive, a necessary tactic for those at the bottom of the heap in a country of 32 million people, most of whom scrape by on less than a dollar a day.The 15-year-old’s deliverance from a life of more serious crime – the carjackings, robberies and rape that fill endless newspaper inches – came in the unlikely form of Sammy Gitau.A former street boy himself, Gitau now leads a project in Nairobi’s Mathare slum which tries to give children some basic education, training and the chance to let off steam with sport.His cash-strapped Mathare Community Resource Centre is one of tens of thousands of African-run grassroots non-governmental organisations (NGO) struggling to make life better for millions of people in the world’s poorest continent.”I admire and identify with Sammy.He was a street boy like me.He is my hero and I take his word seriously,” Mwaura said.”But Sammy can’t provide my entire family’s needs, hence I must do other things.I don’t steal now because it is a dangerous thing,” he says without elaborating, his eyes darting restlessly as they search for ways of making money.LIVES OF DRUGS & CRIME Based in an abandoned cargo container, Gitau’s group trains youths in carpentry, reading, sports and work skills for women, all on less than US$100 a month.Perhaps his most valuable work is just talking to youths trying to quit lives of drugs and crime.Unlike larger NGOs, especially those employing Western and Asian expatriates, Gitau’s all-volunteer centre has no Web site, no four-wheel-drive cars and no offices in wealthy suburbs.Nor is it a regular at the seminars held almost weekly in top Kenyan hotels, where aid specialists from around the world fly in to discuss African poverty and conflict.The group does have the backing of the community it serves.Born and bred in crime-infested, densely populated Mathare, Gitau (33) understands street children better than most.”Growing in this environment was tough.My parents were brewing chang’aa (illicit alcoholic brew) to put meals on our table.So I would choose between studying inside the single room or giving way to customers (seeking a drink),” he said.”It was just a matter of time before I was initiated into this life.I smoked marijuana, took cocaine and eventually ‘graduated’ into the streets where we did all sorts of things …(including) stealing,” he recalled.Dynamic, small NGOs like his, rooted in the community, are often seen as the “bottom up” help Africa sorely needs.But many lack the skills to win funding, and those that do often lose the money to graft, theft or to relatives of staff who pressure them for handouts – big risks in places mired in extreme poverty.Gitau gets by on non-cash aid such as donated equipment from the Japan International Cooperation Agency, Japan’s state aid arm, as well as a trickle of private donations.TOUGH LIFE Given Kenya’s deepening poverty, Gitau has his hands full.Months after winning an election in 2002, President Mwai Kibaki embarked on an ambitious plan to end juvenile street crime.But a couple of years on, street children still patrol Nairobi’s pavements hoping for a few shillings for food or glue.Gitau is determined to save Mwaura from the streets.”He is intelligent …but sometimes it pains me that he unblocks sewage with his bare hands jus
t to eke out a living,” he said.When counselling slum youths, experience helps.Gitau was almost killed by a crowd that beat him unconscious for trying to rob a man in Nairobi in 1985, a regular risk for street children on a continent where policing is weak and mob justice strong.He survived a second mob beating later that year, before overdosing on cocaine and spending weeks in a coma.It was a turning point.”I prayed to God for a last chance to help my folks in the slums,” he said.One of Gitau’s successes is Judy Wanjiku (30), whom he helped to become a tailor.”I had lost hope in life and was selling illicit stuff.I can now fend for my children,” she said.But for every success, there are failures.Next to Gitau’s centre is a dirt pitch where boys aged between six and 17 play football every day after a free breakfast from a church group.Even during matches, half the players cradle bottles of glue.High on the fumes, they stagger after the ball.”You can’t just stop them from such habits abruptly.You take them from one step to the next, slowly,” Gitau said.”We succeed with some, while we don’t with others.”- Nampa-Reuters