Dump Run

9 April 2012

Today my dad took Danae, James (the farmer here at InStep), and I into Kitale to run a few arrends. We dropped James off in town to haggle over prices of agricultural goods because Kenyans get better deals than white people, and then we headed to the dump. I'm not really sure where to begin describing the dump, so my thoughts may be a bit scattered--I know, I know, my thoughts are always scattered, but bear with me.

There is a family that runs the dump and they haven't been paid for two years by the government. And now the family has been given a notice that they have to move out of the house on the dump property for who knows what reason. This is a family that subsists on sorting through the trash for items they can sell for a minimal profit. Their job at the dump is to burn the trash that comes in. The mom was seriously burned last year while tending a fire because something in the fire exploded. The hospital, along with everyone else in the surrounding area of Kitale, comes and dumps their used needles and trash. The kids run around barefoot in this filth and pick up who knows what diseases. These living conditions would be reprehensible anywhere in the US or Canada, but this is normal here in Kenya. As we were saying good-bye to the dump family, the father kept asking my dad for help and money to fix the situation. My dad told the guy that he can't ask for help; if God says to help and brings my dad or Jeff to the family to help that's ok, but the guy can't ask for it. It seems like if you are mzungu (white person), that means you have money and give hand-outs to people. And while most white people who come to Kenya do have much more than the vast population of Kenya, us giving all out money to one person is not going to bring help or change to this country.

I'll tell you, life on the compound of the children's home is a lot easier to deal with than life outside it. The children's home provides a shelter from the worst parts of Kenya. It's easy to forget where I am when I'm surrounded by children who are loved and cared for, but step outside into the community and you will see the poverty and affluence that mix like water and oil.