Compassion; A tool of trade

 The Nairobi CBD remains famous for being a buzz hive of activities. Ranging from the “mrembo salon!” calls along every Best Lady store in town, to the “mrembo nails!” chants to pants being randomly draped on your shoulders as you navigate Tom Mboya Street, to becks of  “twende Kakamega” as you hurriedly scuffle to make it in time for your 8am lecture.  Woe unto you if that happens to be the day that you decide to rock your natural 4C African hair. Woe unto you if your pace isn’t fast enough to get past the calls and finally, woe unto you aren’t strong enough to resist the firm grips that drag you to buy clothes that you most definitely don’t need.

At the heart of all this chaos are street families, they remain quite distinct amidst all the buzz. The other night, I  was leaving carrefour and a small girl, roughly aged four years walked up to me and said “Aunty nibuyie unga” What might seem to be a normal request from a homeless person stuck with me for the rest of the night. This girl didn’t ask me for any food, she specifically asked for maize flour, and I couldn’t help but look back to my experience when I was her age.

At four years old,  I never had to worry about whether or not there was flour at home. At best, my worries would come from an unfinished puzzle that I had or the fear that someone would knock down a building block castle that had taken me forever to assemble. But here she was; a four year old girl, walking in pitch darkness, calling on strangers asking for help to at least have food in her tummy.

And while I sympathize with homeless people and try to help where I can, I still feel like some homeless parents use their kids as bait to get help. They tap into compassion as a tool of manipulation. The rationale is simple, really. You can easily say no to an adult person, but it’s much harder to say no to a child. Will you survive the guilt of knowing that you left an innocent kid helpless on the streets, with no food? Won’t you feel as though you’ve neglected  your moral obligation to help that child? 

My immediate response to this situation is to fault those parents for dragging their kids into these harsh situations. The kids don’t deserve it. But I’m also forced to take a step back and have a full circle moment. All, or rather most parents love their kids and want the best for them. If this assumption is anything to go by, would I then be right to conclude that these parents have done everything that they possibly could to fend for their families and that they only involve their children as a measure of last resort?  

Does me questioning the parents’ choice to subject their children to such ‘hostility’ come from a point of privilege or is it right to at least hope - have a glimmer of hope that life doesn’t have to get there? Is it arrogant of me to assume that if those parents are physically able, then it is their obligation to put food on the table and shifting this obligation to their kids is wrong?