I am reminded of one of the reasons why I am here, in Nairobi , every time I
hear someone open their mouths and something horrifying comes out.
A baby in the building next to me cries all day and night. I
don't have kids, but this is not the cry of a stubborn child. It's the cry of a
neglected and abused child. From what I can tell, the single Mother works all
day, leaving the raising of her precious baby boy to an impatient, intolerant,
unloving house keeper, who either ignores the baby or screams at him.
I hear him cry for what seems like hours with a cry that
leaves you wondering how his little throat is not bleeding. And then I hear
these words out of her mouth as she stands in the doorway from outside. “Nitakuchapa! I will beat you saa hii…
Ohhhh to Jesus be glory!!” And then she goes back to her 90 degree angle,
hunched over a pile of laundry or sweeping the hallway with a small bunch of
reeds all the while singing praise songs that she likely learned at church.