Heroes and Villains..

You wake up very early one day.
You go through your usual morning motions and in no time are good to go. There is nothing special about the feel of this particular morning but you somehow know it will be a good day.
Just like most of Nairobi roads are in the morning, you have the very hectic Outering Road and Juja Road traffic jams to beat. In between these there is Kariobangi Roundabout; a deviously brisk place. You have nothing but hard memories for this place...in the morning it's bad, in the evening it's hellish and that's just being very civil. But you conquer jam one, confusion two, jam three and just barely beat the clock.
It is Wednesday, one of the most delicate days of the week; And today it's the monthly pediatric psycho-social support group. Today you are running it.
You check in and engage in a little chit-chat with your colleagues; the usual adult jokes that are the staple of a far-from homogeneous setting. You jest and ridicule and laugh and jest some more. Your sport betting inclined friends' fortunes have taken a nose dive and you take the opportunity to rub it in! This is perhaps the only time you will have today for such vain engagements. For in a short while it shall be raining work-
One by one everybody settles down.

There is a very erroneous notion which I hear pretty often; that HIV infected people should not have children let alone enjoy coitus. This must have had its roots in the 90s and early 2000s when efforts to combat HIV were rather clumsy and knowledge about the same rather shaky. It must rank as the golden era of stigmatization. Health care providers must have gone about it with a certain sense of detachment and incidentally perpetuated the ostracization. It is why anyone infected and happening to fall pregnant was frowned upon. Whether this was done subtly or covertly the message was clear.
We have come a long way from those early days. Childbirth and intimacy are universal human rights. Advancements in HIV care have also seen to the possibility of eliminating vertical transmissions. But we still see infections and this is saddening. And so it happens that the infected children and their parents or guardians need an attention that though not strictly special is still special all the same. There are a lot of sensitive issues that have to be scouted when dealing with this group. On this particular Wednesday you are working with the social worker and the other team members to run these activities.

Mathare Valley.

What is an informal settlement? For these people it is very formal. The entire bulk of the city's low wage earners make this and other similar settlements their home. It is all they can afford. It is also very true that the material net worth in some of the shanties will put many a decently employed fellow to shame. It is however an undeniable fact that these people have got so much to contend with. You only need to take a guided (yes guided) walk here to appreciate the dire conditions that nobody is willing or unable to do anything about. This in itself is a catalyst for so many of the social problems observed here. Crime and a complete breakdown of law and order, violence, an open and thriving illicit drug and alcohol market. It is a world unto itself these parts. I am no sociologist nor moralist and so won't wade into this territory.
What is however clear to me is these backyards are deep and with many layers. The physical conditions and low economic status of the majority of the people here make this a truly deserving segment of the urban population. This is where you come in not just augmenting the government efforts but playing a very big role in bringing these social services close to where they are really needed.
It is Wednesday. The preceding Sunday as you go to a medical camp you have organized in one of the locations of the vast settlement you are waylaid by a gang of ruffians and mugged at knife point. It is ten in the morning. You are lucky to come out unscathed with only blows to the head and face. This has come to be accepted as the norm here. Mathare Valley.
Back to this particular Wednesday. The group session goes on well. Then you settle down to the individual consultations and it goes without saying that by lunch time you have had a great deal to handle. If it is not relatives who have no idea what the medicines the young ones under their care are taking then it is parents who have traveled to the rural home and overstayed by a month; effectively missing medicines for the same duration or this sensitive teenager who is shown open dislike and neglect by his current guardians.
It is thus way past the conventional lunch time when you get to sneak out for a quick one.


The after lunch.
You start off right where you left off because nothing has moved. Then your attention is drawn to a disturbance outside. It is just too much to be ignored and so you step outside and up the first floor to investigate. You walk right into cameras and a mass of confusion. A group of street urchins are here with some shocking accusations. That one of them we did a circumcision on died from an unspecified complication, another developed a severe infection and yet another had his glans cut off. Of course all these come as a shocker but what is more shocking is the deep involvement of the media and the police. However an argument that lasts close to two hours ensues. Your day is about to take a dip for the worst.
Do we have an active street children program? No. Do we go out there on the streets rounding up the street children for forced treatments let alone procedures? No. But do we offer services to this same group? Yes. Is this a crime? For they come to us willingly without any coercion or incentive. By this time you are simply stupefied by these ridiculous claims. This cannot possibly be happening. In no time you are being labelled a criminal, a villain. What is your crime? "Let us go to the police station you record a statement". All this time the media guys are bursting at the seams with glee, "Story imeiva, Story Imeiva". You are unceremoniously hounded out of your workplace, your protestations nearly landing you in handcuffs. You are roughed up and led to the media house van. Then to the police station.
When you get here more shock and anguish awaits you. You are held at the holding area or something of the sort, all the while the police officers here making their rude rough jokes about you. They actually think this is a joke.
You are getting agitated by the minute...