The Nairobi Experience
The trip to Kenya put on by the Benedictine Volunteer Corps, called The Nairobi Experience, is one I will not soon forget. The level of immersion, connection, and wisdom we experienced cannot be fully relayed through text or an anecdote to a friend. I think that’s the beauty of it. I heard about this trip last year. I was around campus when the guys were looking for flights, planning the trip, and eventually taking off. I was excited for my friends (a little envious too). “I want to go to Kenya!” I thought. I knew my time would come, God willing. A year later, as the end of the year was approaching, rumblings of ‘The Nairobi Experience’ came about. I knew I was in. No matter how many PTO days I needed to take, or family time I needed to sacrifice, I was making it happen. I recognized the rarity of a trip like this. And I had seen the effect it had on my peers who went the year prior. Furthering that sentiment, it became apparent to me the overwhelming positive impact a year in Africa had on my fellow BVC mates. Hearing stories, bearing witness to their calm demeanor — it was apparent something changed. Br. Paul always talks about how “something happens” to a BVC volunteer while they are away serving. You can’t quite put your finger on it but something happens. The Nairobi Experience was the perfect opportunity to taste some of what makes Africa, and Kenya, such a prolific place.
It was a three-legged trip. The first leg included time in the city of Nairobi. We stayed at the guest house (Amani Center) at St. Benedict Catholic Parish, Ruaraka off of one of the busiest highways in Nairobi: Thika Road. You walk out the gate of the monastery and within 5 feet there is an elderly lady selling peanuts. You look further down the road and you’ll see about 7 other vendors selling anything from backpacks to mangos. This is Nairobi. About 30 yards down the road is Thika. Running perpendicular, Thika Road is filled with Mutatu buses, Boda motorcycles, walkers, bikers, school children, you name it. It’s a bit of an inlet. So it’s a main road but separated from the madness of the highway. The focus during the first leg was to explore and get acclimated to the city. Going to the national museum, bantering with the locals, hiking through the Karuru Forest (a forest in the middle of the city? Crazy), bartering with street vendors. You know, the famous saying: “Do as the Nairobians do.” This part of the trip was a perfect introduction to the life of the volunteers away from their work sites. Unlike many other BVC sites, the work is away from the monastery grounds. The Nairobi volunteers showed us a few of their favorite running routes, places to work out, and establishments to go out for a bite to eat and drink. One of the coolest parts of this specific part of the trip was meeting they friends they’ve made since calling Nairobi home. What are the chances you’ll see someone you know while walking down the street in a random part of a city that 6 million people call home? I would’ve thought slim to none. But not in Nairobi. On multiple occasions, we were walking as a group and all of a sudden a Nairobi BVC volunteer was greeting a friend. The loving energy of the city and Kenya at large is real.
You will not meet any people as warm and kind to strangers as Kenyans. Normally when you meet someone you can exchange a handshake, a name, even a smile if they’re nice. But the game is different in Kenya. It’s not in question if a Kenyan is pleased to meet you because they will show you with their eyes. They place value in the mundane interactions with each other and outsiders. It’s a commitment to welcome visitors and treat everyone with respect. This was one part of the trip that gave me the most joy. To meet new people, shake hands, take in the undeniable fire for life each person had. It’s contagious. I found myself absolutely giddy to smile and give the universal sign for “all good!?” 👍
The second leg was time out in the village of Nunguni. About 2 hours outside of the city, Nunguni was where we met Peter Kimeu, the father of James Kimeu (SJU ’09 Alum), spent time with his family, and learned about his initiative called Decent Living Institute of Organic Farming. The objective (of DLIOF) being to set up local families with sustainable practices they can use every day to ensure a future of high produce yields and the continuation of education of hope and what good living means. The beautiful hills of Nunguni are filled with every crop under the sun. Banana, avocado, pumpkin, and kale to name a few. Terrace farming is the strategy of choice — making the most of the plot of land they own. We hiked through the hills, met locals who are helping create a consistent water supply, and best of all visited some folk’s homes. This was true immersion. We split into 2’s, each group assigned a family to visit and questions we had to make sure to ask. This experience was heartwarming to say the least. Logan Braaten (who is a volunteer in Rwanda) and I visited some of Peter’s neighbors. Peter keeps in touch with them frequently as they only live 5 minutes away by foot, and he employs their uncle to work around the house and cook food for guests when they have them. I met the leader of the household which is the mother, her two kids, and their 5 cousins. The 7 kids are all in school. 6 of them in primary. 1 of them in secondary. Boniface is the name of the one in secondary, and Peter asked him to be a mediator to mend the potential language barrier. This family showed us the shelter they slept under, the crops they were growing, their livestock roaming around, and their favorite places to play in the hills. They shared with us their main challenges — which always led back to the weather not behaving. All in all it was a special day and a perfect way to wrap up our time in the village. To see the smiles on their faces — especially the kids inspired me like no other. They were completely enamored by my watch. Or even more simply by the hair on my arms. They all wanted to hold my hand, throw acorns back & forth, and show me where their secret passionfruit was growing. It was something I will never forget. The very last thing we did in the village was play their local soccer team in the heart of the town. The two teams ran through the heart of the town before the game started. It was an opportunity to meet some of the players from the opposing team before we started the friendly and wave to local shop owners as we paraded through. It was a dirt patch on top of a hill. No shade. No grass. No fences. No problem. We got our butts whooped in front of about 60 locals. It was remarkable to be a part of a special day for the village of Nunguni and Wakueni county at large.
The third leg was back in the city, with the focus being spending time in and around the slums, interacting with the street kids. This was the most eye-opening, heartbreaking (& heartwarming at the same time), unique part of the trip. A huge part of the work the BVC volunteers do in Nairobi involves the street kids. These are the kids that live in the slums of Nairobi. We were escorted by Alfajiri workers through the Methare slum. The sheer size of the slum is astonishing. Both the area it covers and the amount of people living there. Mlango Kubwa was the sector we walked through. At the time of visit, Mlango Kubwa had the same travel advisory threat level as Israel. That puts it into perspective. The pungent smell of plastic burning, trash stacked up as tall as me, commotion everywhere, people working, music blaring, kids playing. The amount of stimulation in the slum was overbearing. The darkside of the slum is bad living conditions, poor water supply, poor air quality, crime, and most apparent of all: addiction. Mostly men, but also including children that seemed to be as young as 10 years old, were addicted to jet fuel or shoe glue. They have it in plastic water bottles or bags, then they dip a towel and stick it in their mouth. Huffing the day away. Huffing hunger away. Huffing coldness away. They are like zombies in a movie. You notice it from a mile away. Lights on, no one’s home. In their own little world, stumbling around, mumbling noises. This is the sad nature of the slum. The endless cycle that a lot of the people living there deal with. “What do you say when a kid tells you he needs to huff jet fuel at night because it’s too cold to sleep otherwise?” I asked Jacob Lipke, a BVC Nairobi volunteer. “Nothing,” he replied. “You just have to listen.” This was numbing.
A consistent on the other side of the spectrum was the happiness shown by the children. Raw. Unfiltered. Not yet corrupted by the unfairness of life. The consistent was the excitement and smiles on the children’s faces as we walked through. Maybe because they weren’t yet old enough to be high on jet fuel or shoe glue. Maybe it was their first time seeing a white person. Either way, amid total hell on earth, these little beacons of light were at our side, at our feet — just wanting to be a part of whatever we were doing. This was refreshing. The end of our trip was quality time at Alfajiri with the street kids. A couple times a week, they hop on a Mutatu to go have some time away from the slum. We painted with them, learned their names (as they learned ours), did karate, danced, and sang. Really just spent time being kids. It was a heartwarming day that never should’ve ended. You could see how smart each kid was in their own way. And the heartbreaking thing was knowing the life they would return to when they went back to their base. That’s what they call it. Not their homes, but their base. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know as many of the kids as possible. Hearing stories about the kids, good and bad, from the Alfajiri workers was a privilege. The small interactions gave me hope. The leader of Alfajiri, Lenoir put it best: “Success is sharing a moment of love with the kids. Letting them know they are heard. Letting them know they mean something.” This is what gave me a sense of hope. I committed to being fully present, not wishing our time together away, not looking forward to what was next on the itinerary. Committing to sharing love. And receiving it back. That was special.
I’ve noticed through my brief experience traveling that there are often sacrifices needed to be made if you want to have a top notch travel experience. Full immersion? You’re probably not going to drag a group of 15 men with you. Too much baggage. Too many liabilities. Want to travel with a big group? Okay, that is fine, you better be willing to sacrifice the fullest of immersions into said country/ culture. What made this trip so special was we got the best of both worlds. We immersed fully into each part of Kenya: the city of Nairobi, the village of Nunguni, the slum of Methare. We talked to locals that normal tourists won’t ever meet. We walked amongst the people of the biggest slum in Africa. We were likely the first white people that went to the homes of the village people. And we did it as a group of 15 former, current, and future Benedictine Volunteers. There were many firsts for both sides: the visitors (us) and the hosts (Kenyans). And props to Kenyans at large, we were welcomed with open arms. Even though we live 8,157 miles away, even though we may not look like each other, we were treated as one of their own. And that’s something I truly felt. We were one. We are one.
