Operation: Street Boys

“You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.”

I recognized his torn blue sweater and sweet face almost every time I went into town. He was different than the other boys that I saw in the street. He never once asked us for anything, never acted like he was high, and when I decided to introduce myself to him one day he was nothing but polite. His name was Dennis. From then on I was always sure to talk to him, and even pointed him out to my teammates. Bethany and I tried asking him where he lived one day, and from the way his head dropped immediately we knew what the answer was. We agreed right then that we wanted him in the center.

The center used to have an additional location in town called the Drop-In Center. This is where street boys would typically go before coming to the CYEC. After a while of showing that they could be committed to going regularly and they were off glue, then they could move to the center. However, since it is no longer running, we weren’t sure what the protocol was for new kids. Another volunteer from Penn State, Orry, was also interested in this, as he had met not only Dennis but also another boy named Maina who was just as nice. After talking to some of the staff, he got permission to bring both of the boys!!

We were on a mission. The very next morning Orry and I went into town and began to search for them. After 20 minutes of walking around we found Maina in a park. Like Orry had said, he was very kind, and he helped us to then find Dennis. We took both of them to a café and bought them chai and ndazi (tea and donut-like things).  We asked them if they wanted to go with us to the center. They had both heard about it from other people, and both nodded their heads, yes. After leaving the café we asked if they needed to get anything. Neither one did, so we lead them to the matatu stage. We hopped on the one headed back home, and Orry and I let out a sigh of relief at how easy it was.

            While waiting to leave, however, Dennis said he needed to use the restroom. He hopped out, and we looked at Maina. “He isn’t coming back,” he said. Fail. We asked him if he still wanted to go, and he said that he would rather go the next day. We planned to meet at the same park the next morning, and asked him to try to talk to Dennis about it. Going back without them gave us such a feeling of failure. We weren’t confident that either of the boys would really be waiting for us the next day, but there was nothing more we could do but be hopeful.

            The next morning, we ran into Dennis on our way to the park. He seemed a bit unsure of us, but he went with us to the park to meet Maina. First we had chai and ndazi again, and then we had the boys talk to Nurse Dan who works in the health clinic at the center. We ran into him by chance, but we couldn’t have been more thankful for it. Dennis was still skeptical about going, but Dan assured him that he could just go with us for the day and we would bring him back whenever. An older boy named Simon who had previously lived at the center was trying so hard to help us. He even agreed to go with us to make the boys feel more comfortable and was reassuring Dennis the whole time.

            The next 10 minutes were a blur. People were staring as we walked with them. We were quickly surrounded by several other street boys, all talking to either us or the boys, some speaking in Swahili and others in English. Everyone just seemed to know what was happening. When we got to the matatu stage, Maina hopped right in with Orry as Dennis held back. He froze. A group of men surrounded him, some nudging him closer while others just talked to him in Swahili. I knew they were trying to help, but I knew we couldn’t force him to go with us. I wanted nothing more than for him to just grab my hand and come with me, but instead I just told him that it was okay, that I understood. I shook his hand, and he walked away.

Me and Maina

            But the truth is, I don’t understand. Yesterday Maina and Dennis were living the same unsure life and heading nowhere. But today, Maina is playing with other kids at the center and making friends. He is guaranteed 3 meals a day, a bed, a place to bathe, and will soon be going back to school. He has hope. But Dennis is still living on the streets. I know he has friends and people look out for him, but nothing in his life is consistent. Who knows when his next meal will be or where he’ll sleep tonight. He has no chance of going back to school, and therefore, a very slim chance of having a good future. To me, the choice is obvious and it was as simple as getting on a matatu, but I know he is afraid. I wish I could make him realize how his life could be changed, and I still intend to.

            But for now, I have to be thankful that we were able to at least help one boy. Watching Maina at the center has been amazing. He is starting to come out of his shell, and I see how much he likes it here. He wants badly to go back to school, and I know that he’ll work so hard once he is there.

Please keep both of these boys in your thoughts and prayers.