“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.