Living in Korogocho informal settlements: John's story
By Pamela Sittoni
NAIROBI, Kenya, 14 March 2012 – As his peers in Korogocho, an informal settlement in Nairobi, leave for school, 15-year-old John Kinuthia sets off too. But instead of heading to school, he walks half a kilometre to the city’s largest dumpsite to eke out a living.
At the dump, John joins men, women and children scurrying about the garbage. None of them have protective clothing, gloves or masks. All they have are hooks, which they use to fish out items, and gunny bags to bring their wares to buyers.
“I rummage through the mounds of garbage for plastics, clothes, shoes… anything that I can sell for a little money,” John said. The items either make it to factories for recycling or, in the case of clothes, cutlery, electronic and the household goods, they are re-sold in the streets.
Life in the slums
Between 1980 and 2009, the population of Nairobi, the capital, ballooned from 862,000 to about 3.4 million – a growth accompanied by increasing rates of poverty and poor health outcomes. Around two thirds of the city’s population now lives in crowded informal settlements, often with poor access to basic services.
John dropped out of school in 2010, when his mother could no longer afford it. Although primary education is free, parents are expected to buy uniform and desks for their children and contribute to school projects.
His mother, Jemima Wambui, wishes he could go back to school. But her earnings, from selling chapati bread on the roadside, are simply not enough. “I have to fend for John and his sister, and her four children. I have to clothe them, feed them and pay the rent. They all rely on me,” she said.
John’s neighbor, Bonventure Odhiambo, 15, is also out of school. Bonventure dropped out of school after the death of his grandmother in western Kenya, where he had been living. He had to join his mother in Nairobi, and now spends his days watching his young sisters. There is no space in the informal settlement for them to play.
Their mother, Selina Atieno, said, “I couldn’t raise the money to buy a desk and new uniform. The school also required his birth certificate before he could be enrolled in standard eight . The process of getting him a birth certificate is also cumbersome. But I really wish he could go to school.”
Like John, Ms. Atieno works at the dump, earning barely enough to pay rent and buy food and water for the family.
They and their neighbours have no access to basic sanitation or health services; open drains along the roads flow with filth. They are lucky to have water points, but lack electricity.
A need for data
According to local priest and educator John Webootsa, the area has only two public primary schools. “These schools serve only a small fraction of the population of this area… Other parents have to struggle to send their children to the informal schools, which are privately run.”
As a result, about 30 per cent of children in this informal settlement don’t go to school at all, Mr. Webootsa said.
“Most of them will end up at the dumpsite, because they must earn a living somehow. In fact, child prostitution and child marriage are so common here,” he said.
Where available, urban data reveal wide disparities in children’s rates of survival and nutritional status, the result of unequal access to services. Yet even this information is often hard to find. Further data and analysis are needed to address the needs of these impoverished and excluded urban children.
Mr. Webootsa is advocating for the government to allocate more resources for children in informal settlements. UNICEF’s flagship report, ‘The State of the World’s Children 2012’ also calls on governments to direct resources and services to these children, and to help understand the scale of urban poverty so officials and partner organizations can better address children’s needs.