This is the question I got to ask myself today (Saturday 19th). While walking to Nakumatt (the supermarket) my attention was caught by the woman ahead of me who crossed to the other side of the road. It was an odd place at which to cross. As my eyes returned to the path ahead, I see a crumpled figure – a woman – with her child tied on her back as women do here.
The first thought that came to mind was the story of the good Samaritan, and also the song from school with the words “would you walk by on the other side…”
I’ve nothing on me except a Visa card and so I do walk past. I try to gauge if she’s been crying, if she has any energy to help herself and her child. I carry on my way to the bank and then the supermarket.
Walking the isles I’m thinking “what does she need today, at this moment?” In Kenya, maize flour is the staple ingredient – it’s not so expensive but it what she could make the most amount of food from. But does she have a place to cook it? Is she living on the street?
I settle on a bottle of Coke (what Kenyan doesn’t like Coke) and a good sized packet of peanuts – thinking that the child was not so young.
Walking back up the hill from Nakumatt, I’m sort of hoping she’s not there as that means she’s not in such a bad shape. At the same time, I want to be able to give her the Coke and peanuts as I don’t want to go home and enjoy them myself. Looking at the bend coming up, I see her still there. I wait for two slow walking security guards to pass her and then I start my approach.
“Habari.” See looks up. In the awkwardness of the moment I’m already in my shopping grabbing the peanuts and the Coke. “I saw you here on my way to the shops and I thought you might like these.” “Do you have a nyumbani (a home)?” She shakes her head in a ‘no’ sort of way. “I pray that you may be able to find somewhere to sleep tonight.” I make eye contact with the child on her back and say “Sasa!” The child smiles. I’m disappointed to see that the child is younger than I had thought. I hope the peanuts aren’t too much of a problem for him.
As I begin to walk off, I pass the two security guards who are standing, talking to a third. “What’s up with her?” they ask. I tell them she was there earlier and so I thought I’d just chat with her. With pleasantries exchanged, I turn into my road and home.
Since writing this, I have been reminded through a friend's blog that things aren't always so different in Britain: http://onlybestrongandcourageous.blogspot.com/2009/09/blinkered.html



