Inside the squeezed compound, hemmed in by concrete walls, a group of boys play football barefoot, their feet kicking up as if the narrow space were a stadium.
For a moment, it was easy to forget where we were. The street children were conspicuously jovial and in high spirits, unperturbed by the heating afternoon sun.
Our arrival at Made in the Streets Rescue Centre in Nairobi’s Mlango Kubwa seemed not to have caught their attention. Some of the children were busy playing as others cleaned utensils.
Moments later, the ball was abandoned. The boys lined up quietly and walked into a small hall for prayers. Heads bowed, hands clasped, they whispered words of hope.
Thereafter, they were served lunch comprising beans and rice. After which, some lingered. Others slipped out of the gate getting back to the streets, hoping for a similar meal the next day when they come back.
Among them is Brian Muinini and another who preferred not to give his name. Their stories revealed the brutal reality behind the brief safety this centre offers amidst tribulations they face that, at times, claim their lives.
“I didn’t choose the streets. Home became too unfriendly to survive,” muttered Brian. The 13-year-old grew up in Meru with both parents, but peace did not last.
His parents separated, and he moved to Isiolo with his mother. Life quickly unraveled. His father stopped sending money, food became scarce, and school fees was impossible to raise.
“Some days we slept hungry,” he recalls. “Sometimes I would go a whole day without eating. Life became unbearable. There was no money for school fees, and so I dropped out and went to the streets.”
Eventually, he said, hunger pushed him to board a lorry transporting goats, locally known as a ‘gari ya mbuzi’ that brought him to the capital city. The arrival in the big unforgiving city marked the beginning of his life on the streets.
Yusuf, another beneficiary of the centre, says he would want to leave the streets, but returning home is not an option because of the abuse he received.
“Life in the streets is very hard. Sometimes we get hit by cars. Sometimes when someone is hit, others hang themselves,” he narrates.
For many of these children, the pain of losing their counterparts runs deeper than hunger or homelessness. It is grief layered upon rejection, trauma and addiction.
“What makes someone decide it’s better to just end their life?” he poses. “You think and think. You ask yourself where you will go. But you have no home.”
Their wish is to leave the streets where they face daily harassment, stigma and exploitation, and go to school.
“People push us around. Even when we try to find work, it’s not easy,” laments Yusuf.
The recent suicide of a close friend has visibly shaken him deeply. Yusuf describes how his friend, once full of life, became withdrawn as financial pressures and drug use took hold.
“He was okay before. Later, he started struggling because of money. He hanged himself near Mathare. He was using drugs,” recounts Yusuf.
When news of the death spread, the group was devastated.
“When you hear that, you feel very bad. We all feel the pain,” he says.
Majority of them, he admitted, use substances to numb hunger, cold nights and emotional trauma.
“Yes, many of us use drugs. I also use drugs,” he admits. “But I think about quitting. I want to stop.”
Shelvin Nasimiyu from Kiambio shared that she chose the streets as her home three years ago after she faced constant abuse from her employers. She worked as a house-help and says she could not return home to a situation that is so severe.
“I can’t go back home bare-handed. I would want to one day go back home to my mother with a skill and a job to help rescue her from poverty. It hurts me seeing my family in that sorry state,” she says, revealing how, on several occasions, she is sexually harassed.
The last time Shelvin, 18, went back home she found her younger brother had also escaped and gone to the streets.
Street life is defined by hunger, fear, and rejection. Each morning begins with uncertainty about whether they will eat, bathe, or escape harassment.
The street families are often chased from shops, insulted by passers-by, and treated as criminals. Worse still, death is always lurking.
Brian explains that drugs are often an escape from the tribulations.
“When you are high, you forget hunger. You forget stress. But later, it destroys you,” he says.
He remembers a close friend who died after prolonged drug use.
“He had no money, no job, no family. One day, he just gave up and hanged himself in Mathare slums. I felt so sad.”
John Njue, the centre’s manager, says the rise in street children and suicides is closely tied to deeper social fractures.
“Sometimes, living in the streets is not easy,” he explains. “Physical abuse, sexual abuse, rejection from family, all these can push children to a point where they just want to end their lives.”
He notes that many of the children had stable homes at some point.
“Maybe they had a steady family. Then the parents pass on or couples separate, and disagreements affect the children,” says Njue.
In broken homes, children often internalise blame.
“Sometimes, the kids blame themselves. They think what is happening to the family is because of them,” he told The Nairobian.
Through partnerships and life skills forums, the centre is trying to intervene amid overwhelming needs of the street children who keep flocking at the place for assistance, especially food.
Harassment
Since last year, the centre has documented 38 deaths involving members of the street families attributed to mental health, drug and substance abuse, hunger, and preventable diseases.
“Frustrations of life. Sometimes living on the streets is not easy. Experiencing physical abuse or sexual abuse or rejection from the family can push these kids to a point where they just want to end their lives,” notes Njue.
“So we have life skills forums whereby we are helping them overcome those challenges. But I think our society has not embraced the idea of counselling. Whenever these kids or families experience trauma, they don’t know where to turn to,” he adds.
The stories of Brian, Yusuf and Shelvin mirror those of nine street children who were recently found dead under unclear circumstances.
Initial reports indicated that most them committed suicide. However, autopsy conducted on the bodies revealed pneumonia and starvation as the causes of the deaths. Others were found to have severe body injuries suspected to have been killed in mob injustice incidents. The nine, who included a three-month-old infant, were buried at Langata Cemetery.
The Ministry of Gender, Culture and Children Services has since launched an inquiry into the deaths as authorities seek to determine the causes and circumstances behind the fatalities.
“The office has received reports of bodies that were collected from the City Mortuary, alleged to be of street families. The office is working with the Nairobi City County to gather information to verify the reports. This will help confirm the entry date of the body, source, gender, and possible cause of death, including but not limited to physical injuries,” said Gender Cabinet Secretary Hannah Cheptumo.
According to the ministry, the country has made significant progress in street families rehabilitation, with the 2025 National Census of Street Families indicating a reduction in the street population from 46,936 in 2018 to 18,049.
Peter Mweke, a reformed street family member who now advocates for the welfare of the street-connected children, urged the government to intervene and address their plight.
“Let the government build homes for the families and take them to school so that they can learn how to survive,” he said.
Despite the trauma, hope still flickers. Brian says he and his colleagues do not want to remain on the streets forever. Their greatest unfulfilled dream is pursuing education.
“If I got a chance to go back to school, I would leave the streets,” asserts Brian. “School is the only way out.”
The street children are challenging the government double its effort on the fight against drugs and substances abuse, build more rehabilitation centres, and take street children back to school.
“If they just take us to school and feed us, our lives can change. I want to help my family,” says Shelvin.
Eric Mukoya, the executive director of Undugu Society of Kenya, an organisation that has worked with street-connected communities for decades, laments that street-connected communities live in extreme conditions, marked by fear, hunger and harassment.
According to Mukoya, many lack legal identification, a fact that locks them out of essential services such as healthcare, education and social protection. Further, access to government platforms like e-Citizen remains out of their reach.
“These deaths illustrate the harsh realities of street life and the failure of State agencies to fulfil their mandate to protect children. Waiving fees after death is not justice,” says Mukoya.