The Hands I Held By Tad Acker

I will start by noting that it is very difficult to put such an emotional experience into words.

My first encounter with Kibera was from the back seat of a van and, not surprisingly, viewing a slum through the window of a van was just like I thought it would be -- bumpy pavement, masses of pedestrians, tiny scooters spitting exhaust and carrying as many as 3 or 4 riders, and small shops selling live chickens, bags of flour, laundry detergent, and everything else under the sun. I felt like I was watching TV through the lens of someone else’s camera.

However, on our first day, the team did “home visits” so that we could witness where the children in Crossing Threshold’s (CT) schools lived. This was a different lens altogether.  Spending time in a 10’X15’ dwelling that houses a 4-person family and is separated from the elements (and literally thousands of neighbors) by a single sheet of corrugated sheet metal is a shock to one’s senses. Most of these families have no regular source of income or food, no plumbing, and a lone wire taped to a single light bulb for electricity. It is not something any American I know can imagine.

Then you meet the people – resilient and determined despite their circumstances. On one of our home visits, I met a 41-year-old grandmother, who had recently lost her daughter and who was lovingly taking care of her 11-year-old granddaughter (a student at one of the CT schools). She had no source of income, or food, but had a business idea to add one more propane burner to her cooking capabilities, and a new larger pot. If she had these things, she believed she could make large quantities of a popular local porridge for sale and then feed her family. I believe she calculated a capital investment at $300…an utterly impossible sum for her. Was I heartbroken or inspired? 

Then came the first school and a gigantic wave of children. To get there, we ventured single file down a few hundred yards of mud paths, ducking under jagged metal roofs and around corners to enter a school courtyard. Then WOW…we were greeted with cheers, shrieks of laughter, hugs, and beaming smiles. One young girl grabbed my hand and wouldn’t let go. I have never been a hand holder, but this simple gesture touched something deep in me. It is hard to describe how warm and loving it is.  

So here is what I would say. That 7-day trip was the most heart-wrenching, elating, and gratifying experience I have ever had. I get choked up every time I think of it and I can hardly wait to go back.

 By Tad Acker