Listen First

“Seek first to understand, then to be understood.” ~Stephen R. Covey, 7 Habits of Effective People

We descended into Kibera led by one of the district elders. This “illegal city,” built on the steep slopes of a long valley, is located on the outskirts of Nairobi, Kenya. A single dirt road runs along the facing slope. Packed dirt pathways wend their way up and down the hillsides like hamster trails, connecting hundreds of small hovels, most the size of a bedroom, housing six to eight families each. I was reminded of a clubhouse, made of scrap wood, tar paper and corrugated chicken-house roofing, my brothers and I built as kids.

Slowly we picked our way down the first slope. The path was narrow, steep and rutted, partially filled with greenish gray-blue sewage. As we neared the bottom of the valley the path bent slightly to the left, then to the right. The base of the valley came into view. Here, in the bowels of Kibera, the sewage run-off from a portion of the city collected in a large brackish pool of unidentifiable sludge. The only means of getting to the other side was an Indiana Jones-like bridge which crossed a narrower part of the sludge pool. “Bridge” would be a beneficent term, as it was no more than scraps of wood fastened together into something like a ladder.

We crossed safely, but as we watched in horror, a pig on the opposing bank lost its footing and slid into the sickening ooze. It squealed miserably as it struggled for purchase on the bank, finally scrabbling out of the mire, with a slick coat of brackish green still clinging to its skin.

Our circuitous route led us up the opposing hillside. We weaved in and out between shacks, ducking pieces of metal roofing which jutted out, carefully stepping across the sewage filled ruts to wider places in the path. Teresa’s foot suddenly slipped into the muck. Quickly she pulled it out, but a horrible stench followed with it.

As we continued up the path, we were greeted by the chants of children: “Muzungu,” “Muzungu,” meaning “white person” or “European person.” Sometimes they played and chanted: “How are you?” “How are you?” “How are you?” their voices strangely harmonic creating a surreal self accompanied ballet. They were not mocking us; rather they were greeting us.

The path crested. Ahead of us a long level cut, running parallel to the hillside, formed a kind of “Main Street.” We turned right onto this thoroughfare of sorts. As we walked along, I realized the small shanties on both sides were the Kiberian version of store fronts: promoting goods and services alike. Vegetables, handmade tools, cooked food, woven clothes; even Kung Fu movies were available for purchase. The local laundromat was a simple round metal tub in which two men washed clothes using only their bare feet. It was a day, just like a day anywhere else in the world: people “work’n for a liv’n, just try’n to get by”. In that instant, Main Street, Kibera was Main Street, Anywhere-in-the-World.

Turning right again, we started back down the hill. Carefully negotiating the treacherous path we again made our way to the valley floor and back up the hillside returning to the place on the dirt road where we had begun. Nearby four little boys were playing their version of soccer with a ball made of knotted rags. Turning uphill one last time we began our final ascent up the steep hill to the summit where our bus was parked. Children’s voices chanted behind us, “How are you?”

Over half the population of Nairobi resides in slums like Kibera. There are more than 150 of them in areas we would consider uninhabitable as they are located in flood plains, on steep slopes like Kibera, or in hazardous industrial areas like Dandora. The circumstances which lead to the existence of these slums, or “illegal cities”, are many and complex. Not surprisingly, greed and corruption are high on the list.

This does not mean there have not been efforts made to correct the problems. The World Bank has poured millions of Kenyan Shillings into Kibera in an effort to bring electricity to the area, but to no avail. Curiously, one of the reasons attempts at change have been ineffective is no one ever asked the residents what they wanted. No one took the time to ask the question, let alone listen to the answer! “What do you want?”

Stewardship can easily be confused with the capitalistic model of the transfer of goods and services. If you’ve got, what I’ve got, you should be happy. In other words, if I give other people what I have (i.e. the kind of possessions or the amount of money) then that will solve their problems. Unfortunately such an approach, though well intentioned, can be misguided.

During a reception in our parish courtyard I noticed a homeless man from the park next door. He was comfortably seated in an out-of-the-way place listening to the music. Being the Good Samaritan I imagined myself to be, I made up a plate of food and proudly presented it to the man. He graciously accepted it. I went on about my business smugly congratulating myself for being such a “good steward”. When we were cleaning up afterwards, I discovered the untouched plate of food under his empty chair. I complained bitterly to one of my coworkers who simply responded, “Maybe he wasn’t hungry?”

As stewards we are often called upon to ask questions rather than remedy situations. Busy minds and busy mouths lead to hearts which are blind to real needs. “Big egos have little ears” (Rev. Robert Schuller). Open ears, a still tongue, and empty, available hands are sometimes the greatest gifts we can offer someone. Asking sincere questions, waiting for and listening to the answer are a great place for a steward to start.

By the way: “How are you?”

Dear God: Remind me daily I must hear my brother and sister first, before I can help them.


“Many a man would rather you heard his story than granted his request.” ~Phillip Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterton, English statesman (1694-1773)


© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.

“90 Second Stewardship” This reflection is written by James E. Carper, Stewardship Director for Saint Monica Catholic Community in Santa Monica, California. All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.