Eye Opener

My intern, ("Intern") – as an introduction, he was one of the first two GEF Scholars to graduate secondary, with a resume that would have blown mine away after high school; head boy of 700 or so students, started several clubs, earned top status (like eagle scout) in something similar to the boy scouts, started a company, natural leader, intellectual, athletic, confident, articulate – you name it. Without him I would be helpless getting around Nairobi and hiring him was the single best decision I have made here so far. Enough about him, onto the story…

I have been looking for office space in the Donholm area of Nairobi – strategically located between town, the airport, and Kayole. Intern and I had been bouncing around from retail space to office space to find any vacancies for a couple days. Without Craigslist, finding real estate to lease is incredibly difficult, by the way. We were crossing the street from one building next to a clinic (not the type of clinic you might imagine; basically a loosely standing tent that serves those who cannot afford a hospital) when we were approached by two people asking if I was a doctor. I said no, but asked what the problem was. They escorted me to a woman sitting on a bench, bouncing a 12 or so month old girl on her leg, the mother's eyes closed and the baby too weak/malnourished to let out a cry much more than a squeak. Her lips were cracked, and her eyes were locked on us; she was fully alert. I was told the woman had not fed or given water to her in three days, and when people approached and inquired why she was doing this, she responded, "It is better if the baby just dies." At the time, I was told the woman was mentally handicapped. I would found out she was not so much physically handicapped as emotionally. So, Intern and I did the only thing we could think of at the time– we ran to the nearby store, bought whole cow milk, juice and fruit and returned to feed the mother and the baby. The rationale is that if the mother is not eating, then the baby cannot eat, regardless of the mother's mal-intent. We were told that the police were coming, and that the situation would be dealt with. We left stunned.

The next day, we went back to the office, and the woman was back on the same bench, bouncing the now crying baby girl on her knee. I was heartbroken – what would cause someone to be in the mindset that it is better for her baby daughter to die than to fight for her survival? I don't think I have ever know or seen such despair in a person's face; she had purely given up.

The day after, I met with a woman from Trust for Indigenous Culture and Health ("TICAH" – look them up, they are amazing). Our meeting was an introduction, as they are allowing us use of a medicinal garden consisting all of local herbs that can be found and grown cheaply that help everything from stomach aches, high blood pressure, night sweats to STD's and HIV. As western medicine fails this poor, inaccessible area of the world, the creativity of humanity still finds a way with often very positive results. In their work, TICAH does local market research to better understand local culture and problems people in these communities face. During a specific survey, they asked the question of a group of local, poor women – what was your first sexual experience? The results were shocking – of the many interviewed, 9 out of 10 answered their first sexual experience was rape. 90%!! But the question was also the FIRST experience… so this implies that rape is so prevalent in these communities in Kenya that it is not only uncommon but is almost an anomaly if a woman lives her entire life without being raped. I have heard of the politically supported systematic rape in Uganda to subjugate a population, and the numbers of rapes are even high in the U.S., but this blew me away – it also must be systematically supported either by the socioeconomic circumstances or the sub-culture of poverty in Africa. Also considering that abortion is illegal in Kenya, and the mother can be thrown in jail (assuming she survives the primitive methods of performing them) it dawned on me, OK, well, maybe there are circumstances, catalyzed by poverty and an inability to see any positive option that might cause a mother to wish for her baby to die…

Today, when Intern and I returned to the office building to pick up a lease, Grace (the mother mentioned above – today I learned her name) was there, not with her baby. She was actually smiling… her baby was currently with her father, but also she had just found someone who would take her and her children in Western Kenya. Yes, she asked for money for bus fair. I split it 4 ways, and it was less than $8 for me – the landlord pitched, so did the building owner's son, and Intern also did to my objections (I later reimbursed him – he needs to save for University in the fall). The landlord knew her and her situation better – apparently she had to get far away from the pastor of a nearby church. Turns out it was something I couldn't have imagined or guessed. She left with the money in her hand and a smile on her face… I guess I hope I never see her again and she gets safely out west to greener pastures.