Today, I got to visit the 2nd largest slum in Kenya… I’ve been to slums before but only as a very out of place white passer-by. Today was different.

Several staff members at Made in the Streets grew up in this particular slum… One of them – a close friend of Bari’s – took us to visit some of his extended family who live there.

As soon as we stepped out of the car, I was surrounded by children excitedly shouting, “mizungu! Mizungu!” (white person! White person!) and stretching out their hands in the hopes that I might greet them with a tap, grasp, or shake of the hand.

Even as we walked, groups of unwashed children followed shouting in adorable Kenyan accents, “How are you?!” (the typical mizungu greeting).

It was touching in a way I hadn’t experienced before… Before, in the other places, the people either glared as you walked by or begged for money or tried pushily to sell you stuff. The children looked suspiciously and even when you smiled, it took them a while to return the smile if they did at all.

But this was different. The kids were just excited. The people were excited. Women holding children smiled and waved. Workers carving and welding and knitting in their shops smiled and waved hello. Some even greeted with, “How are you?” And they didn’t seem to want anything in return.

At first I just walked and observed. Not familiar but not unfamiliar. Tiny dirt alleys lined with tin shacks filled with holes. A constant sewage and drainage stream running through the middle of the path. Drying clothes on ropes llining the walk. Ducking clothes, hopping drainage creeks, weaving here and there, pausing now and then to touch hands with an excited and sometimes snotty but beautiful child, I followed Jackton to his relatives’ place.

We finally arrived. A rectangle run home. I’d guess 10×10. Holey tin walls. A sheet across the middle of the room separating the back dirt floor from the front room with plastic floor laid over the dirt. Rats, Mosquitos, they come and go as they please mostly. Typically 8-10 people live in such, though Jackton’s family is lucky to only have 3 or 4 living there.

We sat and chatted and took pictures for a while. That was the other weird thing – pictures.

Other places that I’ve been, I was hesitant to pull out the camera. 1. For the ethical dilemma that this is people’s lives and they probably don’t want to be imposed upon in such a way. 2. It just magnifies the fact that you’re white and comparatively speaking, rich, to pull out your jumbo SLR camera. 3. People usually seem unwary.

But this was different. People ASKED if I had a camera and if I would take their picture. Some told me to take video. I did. But it was weird. I gave one of Jackton’s nieces the phone and let her do most of the filming.

All that being said, it was a humbling experience…

I always have entirely conflicting feelings when I come across poverty.

On one hand it was quite interesting to see a nice family in the slums. There’s part of you that goes, ok, they’ve got this figured out. Theyre happy; theyre fed; theyre Receiving edication; theyre working in some way. It’s not easy, but they’re making it work. And that’s respectable. Who am I to say you have to have this or this or have this Amount of money to have a good life?

But then there’s that other hand. That hand holding stories from kids who grew up there who were forced to sell themselves, who were raped walking down the street, who lived as orphans with jailed or dead parents, who got high on glue every day to forget their hunger, who had rats eat the bottom of their feet every night. Not ok on all accounts.

And there’s another part of you that just wants to give everyone there a comfortable life. But you can’t.

And that’s when I see that the difference between this place and some others. Here, there is hope. At least some of it. Tons of organizations/schools/orphanages/charities have started in the past years. And that’s cool. Hope is powerful. The problem is far from solved – be it here or India or Somalia or Cambodia. We are screwed up people, and probably injustice will remain – manifesting itself In whatever way the times allow. But there is hope. And it’s cool to watch.