I was in Kenya in December last year and was invited to visit Miriam with my family.
It was an afternoon of tropical downpours and we turned off the main road into a sea of mud. A short way along this rough track was a long low building with a gate at one end. We balanced on a small plank to cross an enormous puddle to get to the gate. Through this gate was a long rectangular concrete courtyard lined with doorways. Neatly stacked outside the doors were large couloured plastic laundry tubs and a crisscross of washing lines.
We came to Mirriam’s door and were greeted by a very old lady with a huge smile. She led us into their house which consisted of one tiny room. A narrow bed just fitted down the length of the far side of the room. There was a small low table in the centre of the room and a bench seat along the other wall. A wood fueled stove in the corner was cooking some delicious smelling food. The bed was neatly curtained off and this was decorated with pictures drawn by Joyce. We chatted about how their schooling was going and they showed us their reports. It was a truly humbling experience to be welcomed into their home which was just one tiny room and to realise that these girls had aspirations as huge as our own children and yet so very, very little to achieve them with.