the slum

We were up at 5 a.m.
As I brushed my teeth I could hear the rooster wake the hens. It's cool in the mornings -- around 10 degrees celsuis.
We drop Gord and David off at the aiport. The delay in Toronto messed with our plans. With a bit of creative thinking, David figured out how to beat KLM's desire to frustrate our plans. He was able to contact a freelance videographer and rebooked the flights. That way we could do Kibera and Lubumbashi in one day, effectively cancelling the effect of the delay.
The driver picked up Samuel, the freelance videographer, at the side of the road. He picked the perfect spot. Long lines of casual workers walked on the side of the road. Some had shovels over their shoulders, others rakes... they all went in hope that they would find a job. Men and women from the slum have not found steady employment. Men walk to the gates of the industrial section hoping that someone needs a construction worker, painter, errand runner or anything. They hope to make $3, but it's more likely that they will make $1. The women stand in front of the gates of the wealthy estates. They are looking for jobs cleaning, washing, ironing. They too will make $1 -- if they are lucky $2. Very few of them will be able to find work everyday. Their monthly income is $30 or less.
As we drove to the Kibera slum, it struck me as a very difficult situation to untangle oneself from. What choices can the people make?
I was set for the slums. I had seen many photos, heard hundeds of stories and been warned that I would never be the same again.
Our trip wasn't a romantic insight into compassion.
The volunteer team at I.N.Network worked hard to plan the trip - and they did an excellent job. We met Rose who lived in an 8x8 hovel. She was raising 6 children. Two of them were not her own, but had lost their parents to HIV. Florence lived in the same kind of home. She had five children. She tried to earn a small livin by collecting fire wood in the forest. In March, she was arrested. When she didn't come home that night, no one knew where she was. Her children wondered when she would return. In the end, her three youngest children went to live with their aunt and the two oldest lived at home. They had no food, but what they could beg from neighbours. They didn't know what to do. Joyce had HIV. She was tall, but probably weighed just over 100 pounds. HIV had already taken her husband. Her husband's family forced her to leave the family Samba (a plot of land). She went back to her family. Almost as soon as she returned her father passed away. Her own brothers and sisters were afraid of HIV AIDS. They too rejected. So Joyce had no place to go but to fnd a home in the Kibera slum.
Each of these women have almost no choice. They have children who need food. They need a warm place to sleep. Many of them would like to go to school, but they don't have money for a uniform or shoes or books.