Last week, my friend and mother figure
when I lived in Kenya, had an AK-47 thrust in her face as carjackers
surrounded her car on a busy highway. She and her mother, the
passenger, were shot in the head. Shot. Dead.
Bill Bryson, a popular travel author describes Kibera, Kenya as:
…a sea of tin roofs filling a mile or so of steamy hillside on the
south side of the city. Kibera is the biggest slum in Nairobi, possibly
the biggest in Africa. Nobody knows how many people live in there. It’s
at lease 700,000, but it may be as many as a million, perhaps more. At
least 50,000 of Kibera’s children are AIDS orphans. At least a fifth of
the residents are HIV positive, but it could be as high as 50 percent.
Nobody knows. Nothing about Kibera is certain and official, including
its existence. It appears on no maps. It just is. You can’t just go to
Kibera if you are an outsider. Well, you can, but you won’t come out
again.
I was nauseated by
Zelda’s sudden death and reminded of my time living in Kibera. I also
suddenly grew nauseated by a certain phrase that I have heard and found
myself saying on countless occasions, and maybe you have uttered as
well.
I was at a Christian
college recruiting for upcoming mission trips several weeks ago.
Student after student would come and talk to us, look at the price, and
say, “I am a poor college student. I really need to work this summer.”
Some didn’t even go so far as to use an excuse of work. They were
simply “too poor.”
To read the rest of this article, visit http://www.wreckedfortheordinary.com/ in the Poverty section for the rest of this challenging story by AIM staff, Allie Pohlmeier (who is also my roommate).
Wrecked for the Ordinary is a monthly collection of writings of people who are sold out for Christ. Read their stories, experience their art, share their lives.
