Habari?

We traipsed through Kawangware’s post-rain mud, which – this being one of Nairobi’s poorest slums – mixes with feces, both human and animal. We were off to visit the homes of a few Ray of Hope children. I was fortunate to enter the homes of my two sponsor children, with whom I have corresponded for the past 1.5 years, since my first and most recent visit here. I felt blessed to share with them the moments where they each showed me their dwellings, to pose for photos with them inside their homes, and to meet one child’s family members, who were inside. (The other child’s mother was out for the day, searching for food that the child and his brother could eat that night.)

I held hands with several children, at various points throughout the walk. For a stretch, I walked with a seven-year-old boy who was all smiles and few words. As we walked by another student-teacher pair, we heard the child teaching the Glide volunteer some Swahili (“Kiswahili,” in Swahili) words. My wide-grinned, silent walking partner turned to me and asked, “Would you like me to teach you some Kiswahili?” My heart melting at both his thoughtfulness and polite manner, I exclaimed, “Yes, please!”

So this child taught me to say, “How are you?” (“Habari?”) and to answer, “Fine” (“Nzuri”). I was exuberant, not so much to learn these two phrases – although that was pretty cool – but at his conscientious and diligent approach to teaching me. This little child, roughly nine years old, would not be content until I pronounced the words just right. He needed to do his job well, and he did.

A few minutes later, this boy turned to me and asked, “Would you like to write a story in English, which I can then translate into Kiswahili for you?”

You can’t know hearts this big in bodies so small, short of coming here and experiencing it for yourself. So, to anyone who is able to visit Kawangware and has considered it, I say, “Karibu” (“Welcome”): You, too, will have a safe place to reside in these precious hearts.