My
Kibera Girls Soccer Academy Story
By Jeremy Levinger
When I first arrived at
the D.C. grounds entrance to Kibera to be escorted to the Kibera Girls Soccer Academy
by the first student I would officially meet and connect with, Lynn Seru, I had
no idea what to expect. What I was shown during the next six months was by far
the most compassionate and connected community I have ever seen. I was given
the amazing privilege of assisting with the poetry and theatre club, which was
putting on their own play under the supervision of the wonderfully talented and
enthusiastic Anne Moraa, Michael Onsando, Olly, Aguta Okwena, Naddya Adhiambo
Oluoch-Olunya, Checkmate Mido, Kennet B, and more. I was soon blown away by all
the raw emotion, vivid imagery, and pure emotional honesty portrayed in the
poems and skits that the girls had created. Most of them revolved around gender
roles in Kibera relating to education, as well as how Kenyan society views those
who live in informal settlements such as Kibera and Mathare. For example, here
are some lines from Lynn Seru’s poem I
Represent: “Falling down does not make you a failure, but staying down
makes you a failure, and you only live once, but if you live right, once is
enough.” Some poems addressed Kenya’s
leadership, such as Irene Awinja’s If I
Had Powers: “If I am a leader, I will always work – not only for my
family…I will not choose who to help.” After
months of rehearsal, the girls showcased their play at the Alliance Francaise
de Nairobi and proved just how talented the young women in Kibera are! There
were other times when individual students performed their poetry in other
venues, such as for the Slam Africa monthly poetry competition at Dass
Ethiopian Restaurant in Westlands. The girls were always determined to learn
more, write more, read more, and spread a positive message for other Kibera
residents.
Outside of poetry and theatre club, I loved how
intellectually curious the students were. For example, before travelling I was
completely unaware how popular Mexican soap operas are in Kenya. I typically
would have to rush back home to my host mom so we could watch Soy Tu Dueña together, despite the not
so great voiceovers. Once my students found out that I spoke Spanish, they
would constantly ask me how to say phrases in Spanish, in hopes to understand
full telenovelas on their own one day. I would try to translate everything I
could, under the condition that they would teach me that word or phrase in
Swahili or sheng (local slang).
When I speak with some of the former students online, I
am not shocked to hear they have went onto college and are securing influential
job positions, such as in the local Kibera radio station Pamoja FM, and in
local churches, start-up businesses for the community, and even back at Kibera
Girls Soccer Academy. The warm welcomes that KGSA and the surrounding residents
of Kibera showed me have yet to be matched in another internship or job
position since. I strongly urge everyone reading to visit and volunteer with
the Kibera Girls Soccer Academy if you ever get the chance. I am also thrilled
that the foundation is working on securing on-campus housing for students at
KGSA! I encourage everyone to donate for this very worthy cause, since it can
be hard to find tranquil and safe places to study in Kibera. I will leave everyone with a quote that represents
Kibera well, which one of the students told me during my first days with KGSA:
“Be greatful or be a great fool.”
Below is a poem by Jeremy Levinger written during his time in Kenya.
If I were a Tree (Ningelikuwa Mti)
If I were a tree, I would grow in the depths of Kibera; down
there, like Lindi, or in the holes, like Mashimoni. I would grow where people
respect my roots, because they know the beauty of what's hidden. My branches
would gota (fist pound) every passerby and my bark would be stapled with flyers
of Ohangla (traditional Luo music) and Reggae concerts. Mothers would carry
unga (maize flour) under me and my leaves would protect them from the rain. I'd
bear fruits for the local crazies, who need food for thought to reveal how
clever they really are. I'd build seats where my ways split, so students could
climb me to study and reach even greater heights. I'd have loose limbs that
children could hang on to cross sewage water and my leaves would blow away
smoke from burning trash. I would be a monument, so people could say "I
live near the big tree". People would know where I come from and
would understand my roots, because underground is just a concept. If you look
close enough, you would see my roots, drinking tears of abandoned mothers and
drunkards, inspiring me to stand tall. You'd see green, deep in the heart of the
chocolate city, and you'd hear the same birds that wake you up every
morning. You'd see pain, gripping to the same beaten soil as usual, but I'm
still smiling, still focusing on what I'm carrying; the nature of the
community. If I were a tree, only the poor would hug me.
