A man walks along a path in Kibera on a rainy evening. [PHOTO/SeattleGlobalist]
Whenever people of the 'outside world' talk of Kibera, the picture at the back of their minds is a dirty, poverty-stricken slum in the grip of crime and death.
However, the world never tries to understand the story of Africa's largest slum. Nobody is interested to tell the story from an inner angle.
Whereas the things said about the slum could be true, Kibera however remains something else in the eyes of residents themselves.
"I was born and raised in Kibera. This is my home. There is a time our father took us to settle back to the village in Busia but things just didn't click. Life was unbearable there despite the bounties of agriculture and free-flowing water. We were back within three weeks and have never gone there (Busia) again," says Ernest Wandera from his house in Laini Saba.
The slum is always associated with crime. But the residents think something else:
"Always referring to Kibera in relation to crime is a negative mentality perpetrated by people who do not want to know what Kibera is. The crime that happens here is the crime of a city, not Kibera. It happens all over Nairobi. People kill each other in Hurlingham and Westlands but it never appears in the news until it happens here," says Gabriel Ochieng, a local music producer working in town but living in Makina.
In the slum, children are said to join crime at tender ages of between ten and fifteen and sometimes lower than this.
One eye-catching observation however is how kids play along the streets till darkness falls.
"Our children know what growing up together means. We raise them as a community. Although most of us come from different communities in Kenya, here we teach them to grow up as one. Their tribe is Kibera," says Mama Agnes Wanjiku, a grocer at Makina.
Whereas the elders could contend with their lives, children however have to struggle to cope in the harsh environment.
Sometimes all there is for them in a day is a free space in the evening. The whole day is spent hungry because parents cannot put the food on the table.
"When growing up, my father used to work in Industrial Area and life was bearable. Then illness came in and he was bedridden for over a year. That period we would go a whole day without food in the house since our mother now had to struggle with her charcoal business to meet medical expenses as well as our upkeep. It was tough," says Salim Adil.
"But it was a good learning period in my life. I've grown up into the person I am and I thank God for raising me in Kibera because I doubt I would be this powerful with life," he adds.
Adil is a local doctor who now supports his aged mother still living in Kibera.
Sometimes, the age of children only counts on paper. In real life, they are expected to be full adults.
When violence breaks out, they are expected to take cover and protect themselves from danger. When parents are not at home, the older children take care of the younger ones.
"When police invaded this area in the last electioneering period, I was not at home. But I was glad to see my girl of 16 had taken charge and protected the younger ones," Mama Agnes adds from her grocery kibanda.