From the Editor “I got everyone’s attention and stepped off the bomb bay catwalk into space.” —Quentin Petersen, from this issue’s Voices BEFORE I TRAVELED TO KENYA to document the College’s first immersion experience in Africa last summer, I’d never heard of Kibera. In case you haven’t either: The second largest slum in Africa, Kibera was spawned in 1912 as a place for rural people to live when they came to Nairobi to work for the British. Today between 170,000 and 400,000 people live there. The lack of an exact figure tells you something about how the world views the individuals in this place. There’s no running water, no electricity or gas, no drainage or sewers. In fact, Nairobi does not officially recognize Kibera’s existence. My introduction to the place came the day after we’d been welcomed at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport by 40 singing, smiling youth. Two days later as our bus skirted the center of Nairobi, we were suddenly in a place with far too many people jammed into too little space. An occasional mud or wooden shack sat between rows of stalls made of rusted metal pipes, tatters of old gray plastic tarps hanging from their tops like Spanish moss in a Louisiana swamp. People were selling shoes, boxes of food, clothes—like a flea market with necessities instead of knickknacks. This was about survival, not shopping. An old woman wedged between two sellers doing brisk business caught Professor Bill Cook’s attention. Her table was still full of merchandise. “What will she do if no one buys her stuff,” he asked one of the Franciscans traveling with us. “Then the other two will share with her,” Brother Matthew said. The economics of heaven in the streets of hell. I was praying that the bus wouldn’t break down when I learned our schedule was to bring us back to this very place two days later. THAT FRIDAY WE ATTENDED A MEETING between Kibera’s Muslims and Christians sponsored by a group formed after the violence that followed the 2008 national elections, when hundreds died. Our event at a mosque in the slum was moved when organizers feared that they could not protect our large contingent in an area where, as one woman said, “There are some bad boys.” We crowded into a rundown 20’ x 50’ building. For the first time since our landing, I felt conspicuously white. As if sensing our discomfort, one of our hosts spoke up. 10
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Kibera, Kenya