Life and Death in Nairobi

I am still in Nairobi, finishing up purchases for the solar panels for the library and waiting for transport back to the Village at Kitui. This is my first visit back to KAREN, the town outside Nairobi and home of the Children's Home of Nyumbani. It is the first trip back since Ken (Kennedy) died a couple weeks ago. Ken was 12 years old. His parents died of AIDS and he was left with an uncle. The uncle abandoned him at a hospital, since he could not care for Ken who was malnourished and HIV positive. Ken came to Nyumbani about a year ago an struggled with eating issues as well as HIV. If he didn't eat, the ARV drugs that could save his life would not work and would poison him. He had good weeks and bad weeks and finally he died in the arms of his "mum" the caregiver from the cottage, weighing about 20 pounds. There was no feeding machine available, only a tube and syringe to get nourishment to him. Two electric feeding machines have been donated and will arrive at some time from the states - too late for Ken but will save others. Ken asked to be taken to the cottage to be with his friends but told mum that he was not going to make it and he died as she carried him to his friends. He was buried not far from the orphanage - one of millions of orphans and those infected with this disease. Many of the children here have suffered through illnesses related to AIDS - TB, malaria, meningitis, pneumonia.

We were driving Friday to downtown Nairobi to purchase the solar panels when traffic slowed (not unusual). There in the middle of the street was a young man, dead from some type of head trauma. He died alone in the street, no one near him. No one stopped, no cars, no police. It happens all the time in Nairobi, a city known for its violence and death. I will never get over it or understand it. Ken died with love, respect, prayers in the arms of those who had come to love him. Millions die here with no one - in the streets, in the slums, unknown only to their creator. I remain grateful to work in the remote areas, free from such violence and numbness. Sometimes one can only say a prayer and go on.