Inside Kibera: My Days in the Heart of the Slums

After going through a very difficult season in Europe, I made the decision to return home to Kenya for a few months. I was tired — emotionally, mentally, and spiritually — and I needed to find peace of mind. I didn’t have much money, but I was willing to take a simple step toward healing.

That step led me to Kibera.

Arriving in Kibera

I decided to stay with a family in the slums for a few days. It wasn’t an easy decision, but at that point in my life, I had to be tough enough to accept change, even when it was uncomfortable. I hoped the change of environment might help shift something inside me.

After arriving in Nairobi and spending one night in a modest hotel, I made my way to Kibera the next day. My host family welcomed me warmly. They lived in a one-roomed structure, divided by a curtain. They had three children, and during my stay, I slept on a couch in that same room. The space was small and simple — not luxurious by any means — but it was full of life.

Daily Life in Kibera

At night, we used a small metal lamp filled with paraffin to light the room. Its dim glow cast soft shadows across the walls, and it reminded me just how different life here was from the electricity-dependent life I’d known in Europe. To get drinking water, we had to walk a few kilometers. Bathing was done in a makeshift bathroom, and toilets were public — shared by many and far from clean.

In the mornings, we had Kenyan tea — a mix of milk, water, and tea leaves. In the evenings, we shared ugali (maize meal) with some vegetables. Just two meals a day. It made me reflect deeply on how easily we take things like food variety and comfort for granted.

The Environment and the People

The environment was not all that clean — open sewer water ran through the paths, and rubbish was scattered in many places. But what amazed me most was how even the smallest children, some still crawling, were used to this reality. I found myself wondering how those little babies, growing up in such tough surroundings, could still look so healthy, happy, and full of life. It made me think twice about strength — not just physical, but spiritual and emotional resilience.

During the day, I explored the community. What struck me immediately was the openness — people would stand by the roadside and ask me to take their pictures, smiling proudly as if to say, “We are here. We matter.” That simple human connection touched me deeply.

Even more unforgettable were the small makeshift stalls along the roadside, selling fruits and vegetables — most of them run by young girls. These stalls were not just shops; they were lifelines. I became a regular customer, and it was often the only place where I could buy food. These young vendors were full of drive and energy. Their strength taught me valuable lessons about dignity, hope, and survival.

An Inner Battle

Despite the poverty, the people of Kibera were full of life — smiling, laughing, and pushing through every day with joy and resilience. And then there was me — living among them, yet haunted by voices in my head that made no sense. I couldn’t sleep. Not even with the best medications. Not even a short nap. Their external reality was hard, but their inner world seemed free. Mine was the opposite.

A Final Thought

If you’re going through a difficult season — mentally, emotionally, or spiritually — I want you to know that you’re not alone. Sometimes, peace doesn’t come from running away from your struggles, but from facing them with honesty and courage. My time in Kibera reminded me that even in the hardest conditions, people can laugh, love, and keep going. You may feel broken, but healing is possible. It starts with small steps, honest moments, and sometimes, just sitting quietly and listening — to others, and to yourself. No matter where you are in life, never underestimate your ability to rise again.