Life in the ghetto is troublesome. The environment itself is not conducive at all. Our houses are sarrounded with dirt all over, with raw sewage lying in the open.

My house is located next to the sewerage and we are very much prone to cholera. Many a times my children play around the sewage, feasting on dirt, touching with their fingers, then they lick their fingers again.This traumatizes me.

Right now, my children are sick, as a result of the dirt. Many a times,I am not in a position to buy drugs for their medication since I do not have the money and the drugs recommended by the doctor are costly.I rely on painkillers like Panadol which are not very effective for the illness.

With this type of poverty we are facing, we decided to start a merry-go-round for women, whereby, we do give fifty shillings in a week and the money is distributed to two people in the group. This has really helped us, since we can buy medicine for our children.

Not only that, we in the community are able to provide for ourselves, hence, saving most of us from indulging in bad behaviors such as, prostitution and early marriages in the society. More so, we are able to help our aging mothers financially.

Those who refused to join the merry-go-round, still throng the streets of Nairobi in the evening to exchange their bodies in return for quick money, not putting into consideration, about their health.

My grand father took me in and struggled to cater for my needs till the age of three. When he decided to take me to my uncle’s place who had children almost my age.

Since I was not used to mingling with other children of my age, staying with my uncle became bothersome and it did not take more than six months before I decided to go to the streets, as I could no longer bear the pain. My uncle always complained of me, saying my parents were just shifting problems to him.

One day, I woke up and said, enough was enough, and decided to go back home. I was lucky enough to have managed to trace my parents house after many years. The moment my mother saw me, I expected her to exclaim joyously, instead, she was very bitter.

On seeing me, I reminded her of the sad memories, in particular the divorce between her and my father two years ago. Since, she was not ready to receive me, I decided to go and look for my place in the streets.

I started spending nights in the cold, slept on empty stomach, followed passers-by,begging for money. With time, I became a street urchin. I f I would not have collected anything by the end of the day, I would feast on goat’s blood, from the butchers located within the streets, instead of the butchers pouring them.

I f only I had a chance of getting education, I would have helped most of the street children academically. What I can offer them now is Biblical teaching.

My mother was a great role model to me, as she would provide for my needs, seeing me grow up in a lovely way was her great achievement.She enabled me  learn and appreciate what true love and care was.

As fate would have it, one day my mother fell sick, I thought it was just a common cold and after a few days, she would be better. As days went by, they turned into months and my mother’s situation worsened more and more. She could no longer not only go to work frequently,but even to prepare me for school.

I watched my mother writhing in pain but could not do anything. All I could do was to wipe her tears, each and every moment he was in great pain. I did not have a relative in mind I knew his/her place here in Nairobi. I had to rely on neighbors assistance but this could not last for long.

She took me to my aunt’s place so that she could take care of me. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I could not imagine staying without my mother around me. I had no option, but just to follow her orders.

I had to repeat a grade in school.  After staying with my aunt for one year,
my cousin started abusing, beating, cutting me with a panga, and making
me work like a house girl.  But I was still going to school.Then she
decided to co me to Nairobi and leave me and her children.

Her firstborn was seven and the other was three years.  She left maize and beans for us to cook, but it was not enough for the months she was gone.  She did not tell me when she would come back. I struggled with those children and there was nobody to help me  feed them.

I decided to go to Nairobi to look for help because my mother was
there.  When I got in touch with my mother, she shouted at me and
beat me. “Why do you come here?  You don’t want to continue with
school?” I told  her we did not have food.

She gave me 500 shillings and ordered me to go back to Nyeri. After two weeks, she was back and the mistreatment worsened to an extent of making me run away and I went to put up with a friend of mine, far away from my aunt’s place.

The moment I reached 14 years of age, I decided to come back to Nairobi, in search of peace and where I would feel loved. Little did I know of what was ahead of me.

I found a boyfriend who cheated on me.  I had three
children with him and then he left me and married another wife.  So
now I am alone and my children still have problems.  There are no good
jobs and I  am now selling porridge to feed my children and earn rent.