HEART CBO

The Cry of a Street Girl: “I Want to Belong”

My name is Tamari.
I was born beside a dirty stream where plastic bottles float like forgotten dreams and flies feast on waste.

My mother gave birth to me there alone, barefoot, with her back against a cracked wall and her heart shattered from the world’s rejection.

There was no hospital. No midwife. No warm welcome.
Just pain, blood, and silence.

They say childhood is a time of laughter.
Mine left the day I arrived.

From the beginning, I was like a small rat; chased, insulted, kicked off paths and verandas like garbage.

Mama was thrown out of her home, pregnant, poor, and bruised.

She tried to raise me. Then came my brother. Then my sister both born out of r**e and survival.

When I was nine, she left and never came back.
I became their mother.

I’ve learnt the art to smile and cry to wash my face.

I know how to sn**ch and steal.
How to run over broken glasses and scratch through fences.

I know how to fight like a boy and sleep like a bird; one eye open, always ready to fly or fight.
Because on these streets, softness gets you broken.

I sniff glue when the hunger becomes unbearable. I beg when I’m lucky. I steal when I have no choice.

And then… I became a mother too.
Not because I was ready.
But because no one asked me.

My baby girl cries at night like I used to.
Have you ever given your child an empty breast to suck, just to quiet her down because all you had for supper was dirty hotel sink water?

I have.

I held her close, skin to skin, praying that my heartbeat would lie to her and say everything was okay.

Sometimes well-wishers give us food, Clothes and Soap.

And I’m grateful. Truly.

But a one time meal doesn’t build tomorrow.
I don’t just want kindness.
I want to belong.

I want a home not a pavement.

A family not a gang.

A church that welcomes me, not one where people shift in their seats when I walk in.

A hospital that won’t turn me away when my child is burning with fever.

I want my siblings in school not sniffing glue under a bridge.

I want my daughter to know stories not scars.

I’m not asking for the world. Just a place to start.

Just someone to say:

“Tamari, you are not a burden. You are a loved girl with dreams. You matter.”!!

This is my cry.
Not just mine, but of every girl born beside a stream of sorrow, raised in shadows, now raising others in the same fight.

Don’t just see our dirt.
See our journey.
See our pain.
See our dreams.
😭😭

Shout out to my newest followers! Excited to have you onboard! Thuo Rubia, Karwitha Winnie, Bahati Mwendwa, Getrude Kathurim

This week has just been difficult for us as a team. What was supposed to be a celebration and a happy moment turned into a life changing experience.

It reminded us to be grateful to God for all the small things we have. We were reminded that we have done nothing to deserve a family a roof over our heads, warm clothes and a meal everyday.

We feel the burden to cause change and we want you to be a part of it.
Imagine your daughter or son sleeping or living in the streets not because they choose that life but because; poverty, domestic violence or they became orphans.

No one deserves to lack. No one chooses to lack. However it's our responsibility to help those who are willing to be helped and to show the blind the way.

I will share with you images of what we experienced to help you understand what we feel and if that inspires you to help please let do this together.