How survival is bought, sold, and measured in the dark markets of human life

By Kinya Kaunjuga and Dr. Steve Letchford

Three shots to the chest, “Pow! Pow! Pow! That’s how you do it. We’ll get you out of the country and you’ll never be caught.”
 
His voice was so gruff that he barely spoke above a whisper. The recruits leaned forward to hear him, like a choir watching their conductor’s hand.
 
“You know why I chose you? Because I knew you would do this to help your families.” He almost made murder sound noble. “Remember, you can never tell anyone about this, especially them.”
 
That is fortunately what my older brother did. He told me and I told my parents. My brother’s nickname used to be “Soja” (Soldier), now he’s known as “Savdo” (Saved).
 
Paul was telling us his older brother Savdo’s story as we sat spellbound in small groups. We were holding Banda’s first training on Preventing Human Trafficking in Mukuru, one of Nairobi’s largest slum. Twenty health workers and community members gathered at Cana Family Clinic, where Paul, in his day job, is one of the clinic’s BandaGo software super users. But on this day his focus shifted to a story that had shaped his family.
 
 “A trafficker doesn’t rush,” he added. “They start months before, slowly weaving their way in — with free meals, small gifts, the promise of a job, a listening ear. Simple things. Yet for children  and young people living in poverty, those things are treasures.”
 
Savdo had a little brother and parents who, despite their poverty, weren’t going to let him go. He narrowly escaped the traffickers’ snare. But every child has their own story, and many of those stories make you want to turn your head away and run.

An alley in a slum in Nairobi, Kenya.

The Hidden Cost of Survival

Each day after school, Chiumbo (her name has been changed for privacy) became a small, burdened shadow weaving through Mukuru’s narrow alleys, selling the illicit alcohol brewed by her mother.
 
Dust hangs constantly in the slum air, and filthy flies, enticed by the homemade concoction she carried, clung to her skin mercilessly, a reminder of a life not chosen but imposed.
 
Since the age of eight, her parents, caught in the ruthless grip of poverty, had sent her out to make money for the family, a practice so common in the slum it has become an invisible, insidious norm. Over time, that demand turned darker. As her body came of age, she became the family’s last currency.

Children like Chiumbo are far too often handed over to, or enticed by, traffickers who offer to pay off family debts, sending them off to awful situations in faraway places.

Every day in Nairobi’s slums, survival is negotiated in impossible ways. Children sometimes work jobs no child should ever know.

The Power of Being Seen

One afternoon, a persistent, racking cough led Chiumbo to the Cana clinic. The waiting room hummed with life and pain: crying babies, hushed voices, and the faint scent of antiseptic.
 
When her turn came, she met Josephine, who saw beyond the cough. Years of serving as both nurse and chaplain in the clinic had trained her to notice the flinch, the silence, the gaze that avoids. She had learned the delicate art of asking just enough — of recognizing a child at risk before they disappear completely. 
 
Her experience and intuition have uncovered many hidden stories. Children like Chiumbo often arrive seeking medical care, yet what they truly need runs much deeper. In the quiet of a consulting room, Josephine’s gentle conversations often become the first step toward safety, healing, and freedom. 

Elizabeth Melendez Good says, talking about trafficking in another part of the world, that almost all of the over 1000 young women and men that The Foundation United have helped get out of trafficking in places like Tampa and Las Vegas have been “hidden in plain sight,” passing through schools, churches and clinics.

It’s easy to turn away. But behind every statistic is a child like Chiumbo — trying to survive a system that has already failed her.

Children who live in slums and rural villages are responsible for tasks such as taking care of their younger siblings, fetching water and firewood, cooking and running errands outside the home. Photo of a nurse in a medical clinic in the slums of Masaka, Uganda (courtesy of Hearth to Hearth ministries). She is attending to a child who has carried her sibling to the clinic for medical attention.

The Banda Health mission isn't complicated, it's technology with a human heart

At Banda Health, our mission is to empower clinics caring for the sick in slums and villages, and to strengthen community members who are bringing hope to underserved populations.

Thank you for being a part of this journey with us.

Picture of Kinya Kaunjuga

Kinya Kaunjuga

Kinya, our corporate storyteller, is an Aggie, and has lived and worked in Africa, Asia and North America. She’s met people from almost every part of the world and believes everybody has a story worth listening to.

Picture of Steve Letchford

Steve Letchford

Steve co-founded Banda Health with Wes Brown in 2016 to use technology and ministry partnerships to extend the impact of medical missions to the many patients who never make it our mission hospitals, or if they do make it, arrive when it is too late.