Crime, Poverty and the Streets of Mathare

In the heart of Nairobi’s Mathare slums, where rusty tin roofs huddled together like neglected dreams, lived a young man named Brian. At 17, life for him was a far cry from anything resembling hope. His family, like many others in the slum, was trapped in a cycle of poverty. His mother worked tirelessly as a mama mbogo, struggling to put food on the table for Brian and his younger siblings. His father had passed away when he was just a boy, leaving behind only memories and the burden of survival.

Growing up in Mathare, Brian saw the harsh reality of life firsthand—empty promises from politicians, a failing school system, and the constant threat of hunger. Without guidance and with frustration boiling over, it wasn’t long before the allure of crime lured him in. Peer pressure and the need to provide for his family pushed him into the arms of a local gang. They promised quick money, which would enable him put food on the table and respect in the streets.

At first, it started small—petty theft, pickpocketing, and selling bhang. But soon, Brian found himself in more dangerous situations. Armed robberies became part of his new reality, and drugs were not just something he sold, but something he used to numb the pain and hopelessness. He was barely 18 when the police caught up with him during a botched robbery. The trial was swift, and he was sentenced to three years in prison.

Prison was harsh. It was not just the cold concrete walls, but the mental and emotional toll that suffocated him. He met men who had been in and out of the system their entire lives. Some had given up on ever leading a life outside crime, while others still held onto a sliver of hope. Brian tried to keep his head down, serving his time quietly. He attended a few rehabilitation programs in jail, but the lessons felt distant, unrelatable to someone who had never seen life beyond the slums.

When Brian was finally released at 21, he returned to Mathare, but nothing had changed. The slum was still the same—poverty was the king, and jobs were rare. He tried, at first, to look for work. But employers were reluctant to hire someone with a criminal record, especially for someone from his background. Every door he knocked on slammed shut, and with each rejection, the weight of hopelessness returned. His mother’s health had deteriorated, and his siblings were growing older, their needs more pressing than ever.

The streets called out to him once more. The gang welcomed him back, and the cycle of crime began again—this time, even more dangerous than before. His heart was heavier with the knowledge that he

had tried to change, but the world had given him no second chances. Robbery, drug dealing, and gang violence became his reality once more.

Brian was trapped in an endless spiral, a product of the system that had failed him. He wanted to escape, but the chains of poverty, lack of opportunity, and the stigma of his past were too strong to break.

Brian was trapped in an endless spiral, a product of the system that had failed him. He wanted to escape, but the chains of poverty, lack of opportunity, and the stigma of his past were too strong to break.

Each day felt the same—another battle for survival, another run-in with reminders of his past mistakes. He’d lie awake at night, haunted by what could have been, by dreams of a life he once thought possible. Friends had drifted away, family was distant, and all he had was a part-time job that barely covered rent.

One evening, after another long shift, he found himself sitting in the park, feeling like a shadow among the city lights. Just then, a stranger approached him, a woman with a warm smile and a clipboard. “We’re looking for volunteers,” she said, “for a community project that helps rebuild the neighborhood. It’s not paid, but it’s a chance to learn new skills and connect with people.”

Brian hesitated. Volunteer work seemed like a luxury he couldn’t afford. But something about the woman’s warmth made him consider it. With nothing left to lose, he agreed.

Over the next few weeks, Brian spent his mornings at the project site. He learned carpentry and painted alongside people from all walks of life—teachers, ex-cons, retirees, college students. The work was tough, but for the first time in a long time, he felt purposeful.

He also met Marcus, a former inmate who had become a mentor in the program. Marcus had been through his own cycle of poverty and prison and understood the weight Brian carried. “This system doesn’t define us,” Marcus would say. “Our choices do.”

Gradually, Brian’s perspective began to shift. Marcus encouraged him to apply for a training program he’d heard about through the project. The program offered free certification for people looking to start over, and with Marcus’s help, Brian completed his application. When the acceptance letter arrived a month later, Brian realized he was finally seeing a way out of the spiral of a life in crime.

The training wasn’t easy, but he kept pushing forward. And with each step, he felt the chains loosen a little more. By the time he completed the program, Brian had not only a new set of skills but a new circle of people who believed in him.

It didn’t happen overnight, but eventually, Brian found a stable job, moved to a better place, and began mentoring others like Marcus had mentored him. He wasn’t just surviving anymore; he was living—and helping others find their own way out of the darkness.

Brian had broken the chains, not because of some miracle, but because he’d found people willing to lend a hand, and a community that believed in second chances.