Crazy Day: Part II
Talk about Naive
Tony and I cycle into town after work and lock our bikes together around a sign post. We walk to where Walter displays his handmade wares for sale. He has a spot at the entrance of a shopping center, along with the other guys who hawk their goods on the side walk. I'm impressed with Walter's handmade flower vases and clocks. It's after 6:40 and my internet cafe time is slipping slowly away from me. Walter packs his stuff in a giant, faded cardboard box that no longer stays closed. He ties it up with rope and puts it behind the sliding locked gate of the center where security guards will watch it until tomorrow morning. As he's working to box up his stuff and Tony is on the phone, two street boys comes up to me with their hands out. Tony begins talking to the boys in Luo, then he says something to Walter. Walter secures his box behind the gate and calls the boys over to a woman sitting on the curb selling bananas and oranges. Each boy picks out an orange and begins eating.
Tony gets off the phone and talks to the first boy, who is hiding a plastic bottle containing glue. He exchanges the bottle for bananas, telling me to never give the boys money because they use it for glue. He holds the bottle for me to sniff and all I can say is “dang!” because it's much more potent than one might imagine. When we were growing up, we called it airplane glue and used it to put together model airplanes and cars. It's been a long time since I smelled airplane glue. Suddenly, I look around and see other boys carrying their bottles and wonder how I've missed it this long.
Talk about naïve.
And didn't I see boys at the matatu station fighting over what appeared to be an empty, plastic bottle? So that's why they were tussling over the bottle. The bottles are not capped, allowing the glue to harden and turn somewhat brownish. It doesn't take much glue, usually just the bottom and a side of the bottle is coated, but it's still strong. This is how they spend their days, sniffing and looking through hazy eyes with their hands out.
Walter and Tony know these boys, though, better than the boys know themselves. They know because they've been there. Perhaps not on the street, but from the slums with little hope and hooked on drugs. When Walter and Tony talk to these boys, it is with compassion and firmness. They get tough when it's required and they calm the boys and talk to them like the humans they are, unlike many people who are afraid of boys on glue, or any street child who asks for money. Sometimes people hit the boys.
Walter, Tony and I go to an Indian restaurant and order Cokes while we look over the plans for the Pamba Zuko shelter to be built in Nyalenda. I visit the cyber cafe for 20 minutes, just before it closes, and arrive home around 9pm. I charge the new phone (!), shower, read a fluffy novel entitled "Hot Flashes" and munch on banana chips (they taste just like potato chips!). What a crazy day. From buying a mobile in a very prosperous Safaricom sales room filled with music and conditioned air to standing on the street with two locals, meeting their friends and the street boys high on glue. When we first arrived in Kisumu, just walking down the hectic streets, past vendors, hawkers, street children and blaring music, was disorienting. These days, I'm standing on the side walk talking to the people who once frightened me and feeling safe with Walter and Tony. I like this view from the inside much, much better.
Tony and I cycle into town after work and lock our bikes together around a sign post. We walk to where Walter displays his handmade wares for sale. He has a spot at the entrance of a shopping center, along with the other guys who hawk their goods on the side walk. I'm impressed with Walter's handmade flower vases and clocks. It's after 6:40 and my internet cafe time is slipping slowly away from me. Walter packs his stuff in a giant, faded cardboard box that no longer stays closed. He ties it up with rope and puts it behind the sliding locked gate of the center where security guards will watch it until tomorrow morning. As he's working to box up his stuff and Tony is on the phone, two street boys comes up to me with their hands out. Tony begins talking to the boys in Luo, then he says something to Walter. Walter secures his box behind the gate and calls the boys over to a woman sitting on the curb selling bananas and oranges. Each boy picks out an orange and begins eating.
Tony gets off the phone and talks to the first boy, who is hiding a plastic bottle containing glue. He exchanges the bottle for bananas, telling me to never give the boys money because they use it for glue. He holds the bottle for me to sniff and all I can say is “dang!” because it's much more potent than one might imagine. When we were growing up, we called it airplane glue and used it to put together model airplanes and cars. It's been a long time since I smelled airplane glue. Suddenly, I look around and see other boys carrying their bottles and wonder how I've missed it this long.
Talk about naïve.
And didn't I see boys at the matatu station fighting over what appeared to be an empty, plastic bottle? So that's why they were tussling over the bottle. The bottles are not capped, allowing the glue to harden and turn somewhat brownish. It doesn't take much glue, usually just the bottom and a side of the bottle is coated, but it's still strong. This is how they spend their days, sniffing and looking through hazy eyes with their hands out.
Walter and Tony know these boys, though, better than the boys know themselves. They know because they've been there. Perhaps not on the street, but from the slums with little hope and hooked on drugs. When Walter and Tony talk to these boys, it is with compassion and firmness. They get tough when it's required and they calm the boys and talk to them like the humans they are, unlike many people who are afraid of boys on glue, or any street child who asks for money. Sometimes people hit the boys.
Walter, Tony and I go to an Indian restaurant and order Cokes while we look over the plans for the Pamba Zuko shelter to be built in Nyalenda. I visit the cyber cafe for 20 minutes, just before it closes, and arrive home around 9pm. I charge the new phone (!), shower, read a fluffy novel entitled "Hot Flashes" and munch on banana chips (they taste just like potato chips!). What a crazy day. From buying a mobile in a very prosperous Safaricom sales room filled with music and conditioned air to standing on the street with two locals, meeting their friends and the street boys high on glue. When we first arrived in Kisumu, just walking down the hectic streets, past vendors, hawkers, street children and blaring music, was disorienting. These days, I'm standing on the side walk talking to the people who once frightened me and feeling safe with Walter and Tony. I like this view from the inside much, much better.
posted by Cindi at 12:54 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home