In the days leading up to our Kipsongo visit, I started thinking about what this place would look like. What I’d see. Would we be in danger? Knowing the unspeakable crimes that happen to woman and children in Kipsongo, it was hard not to let your mind wander. You start picturing some end-of-the-world scenario where anything goes. I thought about all the kids I had met at the school who live in the slum. Would I see them in the slum? Would they be in danger while we were there? I laid in bed, sorting through all these crazy thoughts. Maybe a little sleep deprived, a little malnourished and coming down with something I caught during the week—but somehow amidst the delirium, I think we all felt strongly that it was necessary to see Kipsongo.

Apparently the a group of men in the slum acting as elders decided that they would not arrange safe escorting through the slum unless Richard & Helen could give them something in return. They all met at 8AM and worked on an agreement the entire afternon. We were instructed to be ready to leave at any second in the event that they figure this all out. Finally, we got the call near 2:30PM. The elders had asked that we wire $1,000 US that they can use for food. Once the transfer is complete, we’d have the go ahead. While we were waiting, Chicks for Children was working behind the scenes to wire the money. Ten of us piled into the jeep and off we went.

We arrived at some sort of multipurpose building that acted as a formal entrance. There were maybe six or eight men waiting for us. I’m assuming these were a mix of the elders and the escorts they’ve arranged for us. One 20-something kid named Albert introduced himself to me immediately. He was clean cut and very well-spoken. Albert acted as my personal tour guide through most of our walk. He’d often engage me in small talk about my life or point out things he wanted me to see as we walked. The second our tour started I realized something. Whatever I had done between my ears to prepare myself for the sights we would see had now calmed and all my energy and all my purpose was working in some untapped part of my mind. It honestly feels like a joke to type these words. Like some new-age, transcendental journey. I can’t explain it other than I felt different in that moment. I felt fully prepared to do anything I needed to do while I was here. I had left myself behind and there was nothing to lose. As we saw the people and the living conditions, I felt such a sense of community. It was almost positive. The people were in terrible shape: open wounds, one man even bloody, bugs on everything and everyone, malnourished farm animals and dogs running free, houses made from trash and mud. But this is only half of the story. We weren’t here at night.

Your brain would turn off and on constantly. As if I was just watching this all happen at a distance. Then in a moment you’d snap out of it and feel the heat, the bugs, the smells right there in front of you. You’d remember all the stories of what happens in Kipsongo after nightfall. The murder, theft, rape, intense abuse of women and children. You’d put those situations in these environments. In this close-knit community. It was almost too much to bare. At one point, a four or five year old boy came running up to us rambling on in Swahili. Albert said, “Do you recognize him? He says he knows you from school.” He was happy as a clam. I pictured him here after we leave. At night. In danger of all the evils that happen here. Then a woman came up to me. She was thanking me over and over again. I didn’t recognize her at first, but I had just bought something from her at a pop-up market this morning. Her name is Patricia. She lives here? Where does she go at night? Is she safe? I can’t even take it…everyone is so happy right now but what will they do once we leave?

Sometimes Albert and I would get to talking and find ourselves slightly off the beatin’ path—instantly surrounded by a new set of men from the slum. He’d take my hand, “Alright, keep up with me. Twende, Nate, twende.” Which means, “Let’s go.” I’d try not to show on my face that those moments were a little terrifying. At one point a baby girl came up to me wanting to be held. I picked her up. Immediately Albert said, “No, no, Nate. Just put her down please.” As I put her down I realized there was a maggot on her leg. It was now on my arm.

As we left, we received many “thank you's,” many “asante sana's” (thank you very much). Many “God bless you's” and handshakes from the elders. It was all very positive. Albert asked that I take his greetings back to America with me. He also asked me if I had met a girl named Irene at the school yet. “Of course I have! She’s amazing.” Albert revealed that he is her older brother. And Patricia asked that I look for her on Facebook—incredible

Tonight we lit lanterns with the kids at the orphanage—metaphorically representing their hopes and dreams rising into the stars. Which went right along with my new-age inner journey I had just come back from earlier in the day. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything we had just seen. Everything we had just seen use to be a home for these children. For some of them not even that long ago. Now they are all here—rescued and removed from it. Allowed to be a kid again. Allowed to dream again. I was given one of the lanterns to light off so I made sure to stand next to Ezekiel and reiterate its purpose before I let go. He kept his eye on it all the way until it was a speck in the night sky. Every now and then he’d tug on me and point: “Nate Nate, there it is. Our lantern is going into the stars!”