Children Raising Children by Jeanne Perin

It was a sunny day in the slum of Limuru yesterday. Betty and I were with Rachael, an HIV nurse, and Hannah, a Community Helper, a volunteer role vital to the work the clinic does in people’s homes. The four of us were  gingerly walking down a long, rocky, and clay-packed path with local children shouting “How are you?” at us.  As we neared the bottom of the incline, we came to a lovely garden where our client, Elizabeth, was hoeing. It was lush and meticulously kept and put our small backyard garden in Norfolk quite to shame.

She finished quickly when she saw us and led us around a building to her small apartment. What came into view around the corner was a tree with a ragged blanket under it where four distressed young children were seated. The oldest, about four, was holding and patting his 8-month-old or so little sister who was crying inconsolably. A younger brother sat next to him looking perplexed and unhappy while another baby girl sat crying with tears and more smeared on her face. Her pink jacket was wet with tears, the rest of her was soaked as well, and the entire sight made my heart stop and begin to break. My arms however, were immobilized. The impulse to pick up one of them was thwarted by the thought of getting wet and dirty if I touched them. I wasn’t up to their rescue, but fortunately,  Rachael and Hannah were. They each chose one and cleaned them as best they could. The smallest girl was tied on her big brother‘s back with a chukka  (all-purpose shawl ), and they gave the other girl to Elizabeth,  who was her neighbor, a familiar face. With the babies quiet, we convened in Elizabeth’s small but neat living room and Racheal conducted the interview, checking her progress with HIV and the ARV’s (antiretroviral) medications she is taking.

As has happened repeatedly since coming to Kenya, I’m humbled by my own inadequacy, the way I live out my own culture being too small to fully embrace a different one.  If humbling is what I need, as I suspect it is, then this experience was very constructive.  

And what about the children? Elizabeth told us that the parents left the three littlest ones in the care of the four-year-old.  The reason isn’t known, but it’s a common sight to see very young children put in charge of infants while the mom or both parents work or beg for food. The family is on my prayer list, and that’s the best I can do for them. Which brings me to the point of this blog – to be here effectively, we have to give up the notion to fix problems and instead, do what we can to help and not hurt and leave the rest to God. He doesn’t have a culture problem, and if I’m patient and trusting, he will help me grow out of mine.

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