International Year of Shelter for the Homeless

Over 25 years ago, the United Nations declared Shelter as a human right. Since then, the neglect of honoring that right has condemned over one billion people to live in extremely unsanitary and unhealthy conditions. Over 100 million people have no shelter whatsoever. They sleep in the streets under bridges, in vacant lots and doorways. Similar problems are coming to the surface in the industrialized countries, but few governments today have policies in place that meet the basic needs of their people, particularly the poor and disadvantaged.

These are facts provided by the United Nations Centre for Human Settlements (HABITAT), located in Nairobi, Kenya.

A colleague here at Catholic Theological Union, a Dutch priest, Mathew Haumann, a Mill Hill Missionary, who has been in Kenya since his ordination in 1963, provides us with an "on-the-scene" description of what these problems entail, and some of the causes.

NAIROBI, a bleak, swampy stretch of soppy landscape, windswept, devoid of human habitation of any sort, the resort of thousands of wild animals of every species. The only evidence of occasional presence of human kind is the old caravan track skirting the bog-like plain." In these words, R. W. Preston described Nairobi in 1899. There was a human presence there of course. The Masai came there regularly to herd their cows, sheep and goats, but they did not leave behind as many tell-tale signs of their presence as we whites do.

Nairobi is a beautiful city with many open spaces, parks and gardens surrounding its mini skyscrapers and odd reminders of its birth as a railway town, a little more than seventy years ago. The main streets are a riot of colour with bouganvilleas, hibiscus, oleanders and the glorious blue flowering jacaranda trees. Nairobi is often called 'the safari capital of the world'." This is written on the tourist map of Kenya in 1981. A description like this belongs on a tourist map. Although this description is not untrue, it is not the whole truth. Another name in the tourist brochures is "City in the Sun". That also is true for the greater part of the year. But in the musical "Portraits of Survival", the parking-boys and the prostitutes sing "where is the sun for us?"

They, and many others, have the right to ask this question as Nairobi clearly is a "two- faced city", presenting a modern face to the world. It has the face of the tourist and conference city, full of luxury and comfort. It is the heart of the government, the centre of the national and international elite, who come along with the powerful multi-nationals. Ambassadors live here in beautiful villas and palaces with big gardens. The swimming pools of the rich get sufficient water, as do the golf courses which are of an internationally high standard. But Nairobi has another face as well. The majority of the more than 1 million inhabitants live in the backyard of this modern city. They live in the greatest poverty and their number is growing. They helped to build the city in the sun, they sweep the streets in the rich areas, whilst in their own areas the garbage is rarely collected. The tourist might meet these people now and again - the parking-boys (youths who live on the streets and make their living through small crimes and finding parking spots for cars), the prostitutes or the driver of the V.W. combi in which he goes on safari.

These people live in slums and poor areas like Mathare Valley in East Nairobi. There are many other slums in other parts of Nairobi. Some of these you will not find on a map of Nairobi. Officially, many of these neighbourhoods do not exist. On the map they form only white spots. Mathare Valley was put on the map as an inhabited area only after a cholera epidemic broke out some years ago and the existence of its substantial population could no longer be denied.

Here there is no space, there are no beautiful flowers or trees. Every place is packed with people. The Nairobi and Mathare Rivers no longer remind anyone of cool waters. They have become stinking open sewers. Often these parts are called the "self-help city" as nearly everything here has been created by the people themselves, made out of nothing or out of what is thrown away by the rich city.

Contrasts between the rich and the poor in Nairobi are enormous. In the rich quarters less than 500 people live on a square kilometre. In Mathare Valley nearly 50,000 people are packed together in such a space. The house rents in the "good" areas of Nairobi are often more than what the poor will earn in a whole year. But the rich can pay this without any difficulty, or it is paid by the company, the government or the boss in Europe. The poor more often than not cannot afford the 200 shillings for a hovel in Mathare Valley or a room in Eastleigh. It is more than half a month's salary. Out of poverty people move to places like New Crogan or Kinyago to build their own dwelling, a hut of throw-away polythene and cardboard.

Relations between the different tribes in Kenya of old are not very good. They nickname one another, usually in an uncomplimentary manner. Here in Nairobi, two new tribes are being formed, the tribe of the rich and the tribe of the poor. The rich talk about the poor with a certain contempt or perhaps it is a little fear. They call them the watu, the simple folks, with the colonial connotation of "the good-for-nothings". The poor call the rich, with a mixture of contempt and jealousy, the "Wabenzi", which means "those Mercedes Benz people". Another name for them is the "Wamba kali", which means "dangerous dogs", for outside the gates of nearly all the houses of the rich you will see a board on which is written "Beware of the Dog".

Which brings up the subject of crime.

One night, there was a lot of shooting in our neighborhood. At breakfast, the cook tells us that three people have been shot. They were thieves, he has heard, and he goes off to the kitchen to wash the dishes. He is not that impressed; thieves should be shot, at least that is how he sees it.

Abungu has heard the shooting too. For him it is less simple than for our old cook. Abungu is a teacher in one of our informal schools. He finds it criminal that suspected thieves are shot by the Police. He finds it a criminal world in which he lives anyway, especially on mornings like this.

Abungu is a bit of a mixture between a philosopher and a freedom fighter. He has his own way of looking at things and he isn't reluctant to speak his mind.

As I walk into the school office he greets me with a broad smile. "Good morning, criminal", he greets me...."What have I done today?" I respond...."We are all criminals," Abungu says, "every one of us. I sell chang'aa (illegally brewed gin) for my mother. It is forbidden by law, so I am a criminal."

"But so are you, don't fool yourself, you as a 'Mzungu' (white person), you use a far greater portion of the world's energy than you have a right to. I happen to think that that is criminal too."

Abungu says it all with a big grin on his face, but he knows he runs the risk of being arrested, whilst I am in no such danger. He pulls the green army beret, his freedom fighting self, over one ear and he starts philosophizing. "Has it been proved that the three who were shot are guilty?"

There is a fire in his eyes now, and I feel like saying that I didn't shoot them, but Abungu goes on" "Stealing is against the law, but it depends a lot on who steals, from whom you steal and what you steal as to whether or not you are shot at," Abungu says.

He gives me a lecture. Crime for him is more than an act against the law. That may be the definition one finds in a dictionary, but for Abungu that is not good enough. He has been studying this matter for a whole day with some other teachers.

He searches through a heap of papers on his desk. Yes, here, he has got it; a list of "crimes" that his pupils are acquainted with. Stealing, robbery, bribery, child abuse, drug addiction, abortion, unlicensed business, prostitution, robbery with violence, pick-pocketing, smuggling, trespassing, etc. It is a very long list and it classifies nearly all the people in Mathare Valley as criminals. Abungu himself comes from a family of criminals. His mother brews chang'aa. Just imagine that; his mother a criminal. She brewed chang'aa to give him, Abungu, a decent education. He got a good education; he went to a good school, but he still lives in this "criminal" world. All this is against the law, but is it criminal? Abungu would rather call it by another name;

Poverty!

Real crime, that is a different matter for him. Is it not a crime that people don't have sufficient to eat? That they have to live here in these dreadful conditions, that ordinary human rights are being denied? That these three have been shot without a trial; is that not a crime?" Abungu fires off these questions; he doesn't expect an answer from me; for him the answer is already clear.

I know Abungu as a very understanding man, who cares for his pupils and is always willing to help. But he doesn't want to be just a good Samaritan. He also wants to look where these robbers have gone to.

He rummages through the papers on his desk again. Then he reads: Del Monte - also called Kenya Canners; labour force is 10,000 of which 7,000 are casual workers. They earn K.Shs. 450 per month of which K.Shs. 200 is deducted for housing. Often four workers live in one room. The Chairman of Del Monte earns 3.5 million. Del Monte controls over 80,000 acres of fertile Kenyan land of which less than one-third is planted. Is it correct that vast tracts of Kenyan land are turned over to multi-nationals for export crops while some people here face starvation? Until recently Del Monte paid no Kenyan tax. Abungu nonchalantly throws the paper back onto his desk. "None of it is against the law," says Abungu, "But is this not criminal?"

Many of the children being taught by Abungu have committed one or other of those little "crimes". But Abungu knows that the big criminals in Kenya don't live in Mathare Valley or in any of the other slums.

A few days ago we had a tremendous rainstorm in Mathare Valley. Mathare River flooded, houses were washed away and people were made homeless. "Do you remember?" Abungu asks. Of course I do. My own colleagues could not come home by car because the water was too high in the street.

"These people were in real need," says Abungu, "and each of the homeless received a blanket from the Government. But when Del Monte said that they had financial problems, they received a thousand acres of land which was taken away from the farmers."

Abungu spits it all out as if I personally have done all this. Or does it just sound like that because I feel guilty since much of this has been done by us, the people from the West? He looks at his watch and asks whether he can do anything for me. He has to go to the classroom and teach his "criminals" now.

Before he walks to the class he picks up another piece of paper and lets me read it.

This Abungu doesn't only educate the parking-boys...