DEVELOPMENT: Why my heart bleeds for Dandora

DEVELOPMENT: Why my heart bleeds for Dandora

J.M OKINDA sent this story to me from Nairobi and asked me to post it. He is part of the Sagam Village family and is attending a conference.

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[In part one of this feature, John Okinda takes you through a journey to Dandora dumpsite where he discovers the level of neglect and extent of pollution. He shares wit the fears that visitors to site harbour as they dare to explore Nairobi’s biggest and oldest dump-site.]


The mere mention of the name Dandora sends chilling cold down the spines of many people.It is a place that has been associated with freelance lifestyle, crime, idleness and all manner of lawlessness.

Our journey to this feared and dreaded part of the city begins early noon. Earlier in the day, the tour organizers had warned us of the lurking dangers associated with the dumpsite. We are warned that we need to take caution with our cameras and other gadgets. They even recount to us a case where a ‘a mkamba’ boy on a similar kind of a trip lost track in the vast dump-site and had to be rescued by a local volunteers.

Armed with these warnings and chilly media records of what goes on at Dandora, we set to explore and witness for ourselves. The journey to Dandora from Nairobi dam takes off in earnest. On our way, we come face to face with trucks loaded with garbage en route to the dump-site. The stench that fills the air provides us with a small dose of what to expect at the site.

As we enter Dandora estate, we can’t help notice groups of idle youth taking sluggish walks along the littered streets. Others are crowded in front of shops either smoking or chewing khat.

We are finally at Dandora dampsite. Instantly, life seems to come to a standstill for us. We take a while before we embark from our van. We ensure all the windows are properly shut, we can’t leave anything to chance here. By this time, we wished we had carried some form of air filters. We are literally choking from the foul emission from the site. The air is smoky and heavy.

We gather some amount of courage and venture a few meters into the dump-site as our curiosity to witness the happenings first hand. We are cautious not to venture deep into the site for security reasons. By this time, the smell of lifelessness fills the air. The expanse of the site is breathtaking.

Just twenty meters away from where I’m standing, a group of unkempt, shrunken and haggard looking men, children and women scavenge through the wastes for either food or other products.

But wait until ‘fresh’ garbage arrives. You are treated to a spectacular scene of man and animal accommodating each other as they search for food remains. There is frenzy of activity as both animals and humans try to gather as much food as they can.


At the site, you come across all manner of garbage. Mounds of waste paper, broken bottles, plastics, hospital wastes, industrial wastes, dead animals and many.

The scavengers on the other hand don’t seem to be bothered by the foul stench emitted from the garbage site. “I have lived with the smell for the last 18 years” offers Mwangi.
As we become easy with the dump-site environment, curious onlookers and idlers begin to mingle around us. From far, they look friendly though fierce. We are a bit unsettled because of the security of the expensive video cameras, still cameras, binoculars and phones we are carrying.

We nonetheless brave ourselves and engage a few scavengers on a lively discussion, with the selfish hope that they might defend us from harassment or robbery from the site roamers.

I edge closer to a woman in her mid twenties. She’s collecting green polythene bags. I greet her but she shies off before I could ask her anything. My attempt to have a chat with her bears no fruit as she suddenly dashes and disappears in the huge mound of garbage a few meters away. A scavenger then offers to tell me that the woman who had just dashed away collects polythene bags, which she sells at a nearby recycling factory. Many dumpsite residents do the same. The wastes fetch two shillings per kilo. On average, polythene scavengers take home an average of shs.100 per day.

It’s time for us to leave the dump-site. It’s been a grueling two hours of difficult interaction with the dump-site community and the surrounding. But I have learnt useful lessons and made interesting discoveries.

The most important lesson I learnt was the huge number of dump-site dependants for livelihood, both humans, wild and domestic animals. You and I may probably call for the relocation of the dump-site, but to the dump-site community, that would be wishful thinking. They were born, breed, socialized, live and depend on the dump-site for their lives. To them, ‘no dump-site, no life’.

The dump-site community rely on it for various needs. There are those who scavenge for food, regardless of its state, as long as it is food. Others come for anything recyclable-bones, plastics, paper, bottles etc. Because of its expanse, criminals have been known to use it as a hideout.

The environmental and health implications of the dump-site are enormous and goes beyond your wildest imagination. Watching little kids of four years search for food from the site makes you feel like shading tears. Scavenging the site without any protective gear expose the scavengers to various degrees of bruises and injuries from broken glass, needles and sharp metals from medical wastes. This exposure may lead to contracting of all manner of diseases and infections.

Because of low level of income, most scavengers cannot afford quality and adequate healthcare. They end up with untreated ailments, which reduce their life expectancy with a huge margin.

It’s a harsh world to live in. It’s competition for food and valuable resources. Here, the winner takes it all. The saying of ‘ the earliest bird catches the worm’ applies here. Humans fight and struggle with animals for food. It is a place nobody cares what goes on. It is as neglected and shunned by the locals the same way it is feared by the outsiders.