“People who are desperate are capable of anything, poverty makes them ill.” (Anna)
Excerpt from Fanny´s diary:
“The last night. We lay laughing, planning Berlin. Joseph stumbles into the room” Talk slowly! “, Fear in his brown eyes. We are going to sleep soon. A moment of rest. Steps, no, you can’t call it steps. It was running legs, like I’ve never heard before. You could feel them, through the walls, running, hurrying, full of fear, “Be quiet!” Joseph yells at us in a whispering voice. In a swift move he puts out the candle. I jump up. Look for weapons, or try to find a hiding place, or anything. It had nothing to do with thinking. Joseph pulls me back onto the bed, holds me. And still the deep, raging, steady steps that hold so much force that it makes the air in the room pulsate. Each of us lying on its own. Joseph’s hand on my left clawing into mine. Firm pressure on both sides. Anna fumbles my arm, I am grabbing her hand. We hold tight on to each other. But no matter how strongly we are holding hands, there is no safety. What safety could possibly come? There is none. None. None that protects your life. Joseph cuddles in my arm after the steps have died away and only the silence of the creeping fear is left of the disaster that had come to meet us. Anna huddles against my other arm. I want to give all of us the security that we seek in each other, but how is that supposed to work? I am just a hollow body in which it screams. Endless minutes we remain in this position.
A motorcycle circles the streets. Horror of being robbed. Concern for the robbers. Policemen are chasing them. Please, no shots. My heart is racing. Cockroaches and voices in the yard, which I think of being robbers. I can hear nothing but the beating of my heart. Did not know that hearts can beat so loud.
Excerpt from Anna´s diary:
“To us it is so easy to go. Our friends. Our family. They have to stay. But it is not wrong to long for safety. Their love and prayers are with us. The gratitude of the teacher whose orphanage we are trying to support is traveling with us. In the backpack the posters that explain about illnesses. The posters that can save lives. In the heart memories of horror and violence. Feelings of guilt, shock and strain. Eyes that have seen too much. Too much that can not be true. Love. We find and we embody it everywhere. Sounds in the night. Following the stars through the black. The melody of life changes from place to place, but its magic does not disappear.
View from the balcony of a richer house on Mali Saba, Dandorra
The home of Joseph Muranga, one person who helped us initiating the support structures in Kenia
View over the rooftops of the Mali Saba Slum