They say, “Trust the process,” but knowing the steps taken throughout the process is the key to trust. Feeding the hungry means our first step starts at 4:30 a.m. Two volunteers wake up and freshen up. At 5:00 a.m., before the sun burns off the night chill, we boil water on a charcoal stove. Using some of the hot water, we go down on our knees and begin kneading the dough, hoping and praying that what we have will be enough for everyone present.
Feeding the Forgotten Beneath Nairobi’s Sky
On the ground, Ubuntu Village Inc. (a 501c3 nonprofit organization) has two volunteers in Nairobi. We are armed only with our will to help the helpless in whatever way possible, even if that means helping them cross the road. There is no emergency shelter for the needy, no office, just the urge to make someone else’s life better.
Just hands. Chapati. And hope.
The Boy with A Torn Shirt
He was sitting under a billboard for a luxury apartment. I could see his ribs cast shadows against his skin through his torn shirt. He didn’t ask for food. He asked if we had a job.
We gave him a chapati. He smiled like we gave him a future.
That boy—we don’t know his name. But we remember his thank you. We remember how he tore the bread in two and gave half to a sleeping friend. You learn something about humanity on these streets—the poor give. The rich advertise.
This Isn’t Charity. It’s Urgency
We don’t have the time or knowledge to write grant proposals or the time to pose for press photos. We cook, carry, and give. We’ve learned to stretch one 2 kg packet of flour into 30 chapatis. In the past year, we’ve served 4,000 meals from borrowed pots, assistance for Ubuntu Village, and our own pockets.
We’ve cried over empty gas cylinders and broken hearts. No savings–everything gone for emergencies. And every time we think we can’t keep going, someone says, “Thank you, I really didn’t know what to do.” We wipe our eyes. And go back to kneading.
The Woman with the Missing Tooth
She called us angels. Can you believe that? She was sitting in an alley, legs swollen, wrapped in old newspaper. With a warm smile, we handed her a plate of rice and beans. She took it like an offering. Then she told us her story.
She was once a schoolteacher. She lost her husband to COVID, lost her home to ruthless in-laws, lost her job due to depression, and lost her son to the streets. Now, she waits for a warm plate and a kind word every day. She calls us angels. But we are just messengers. The real angels are the people who give to people like us.
What Your Money Actually Does
This isn’t abstract.
2000 Ksh (Kenyan shillings)/approximately $16 feeds 16 people for a day.
2,000 shillings/$16 buys cooking oil, onions, beans, and flour—enough to make a small miracle in the city’s darkest corners. We don’t waste a single shilling. Every cent goes straight into food. Into dignity. Into a plate that says, “You matter.” We don’t have much, but we go where others won’t. Places too broken for press releases.
And every person we feed is a life touched. A reason to keep moving.
Hopefully, Our Movements Don’t Go Unnoticed
Friends, neighbors, and even strangers join us in some of the preparations. They offer salt, water, sugar, cooking oil, and, at times, warm company filled with interesting conversations and jokes. Wouldn’t it be better if we had a steady supply of donations to keep up with the situation on the streets? Wouldn’t it be better to have an emergency shelter where we could accommodate street children and give them a sense of home?
Wouldn’t it be better if we could afford to send some, if not all, of the street children to school to be educated and help them stand on their own two feet as responsible members of society? Wouldn’t it be better if we could create community-friendly jobs, employing the accountable and educated members of the street families to earn an honest income and inspire the street children to want to better their lives?
Wouldn’t it be better if we could help a generation from the unforgiving grasp of misery and poverty?
Who Cares?
You’ve walked past them. Maybe you looked away. Perhaps it hurt to see them. Now imagine if it were your father. Your sister. Your child.
One missed paycheck. One illness. One eviction. That’s how close most of us end up on the streets.
And yet, the people we serve still say thank you. We’re not just feeding bodies. We’re feeding hope.
What If You Skipped One Night Out This Week?
One night out = 13,000 shillings/$100. That’s 100 people fed, 100 names not forgotten, 100 faces lit with relief. Isn’t that a better deal?
How We Do It
Whenever we can, we cook fresh meals at home and package them in recycled containers. We walk, ride, or hitch rides to different parts of Nairobi. We feed, listen, and hug. We come back with stories, tears, and empty pots.
And every week, we wonder: Will we have enough next time?
You Are Part of This Now
If you’ve read this far, it means you feel it too. That ache. That burning sense that something must be done. You can’t save everyone. Neither can we. But together, we can feed one more. And another. And another.
This Is Not Guilt. This Is an Invitation. To be part of something raw and real. To be part of a rebellion against indifference.
To say, with your money, your time, your voice:
“These lives matter. This hunger ends with me.”
What We Need
3200 shillings ($25) for gas refill
4500 shillings ($35) for 25 kg of beans
2100 shillings ($17) for a bale of wheat flour
2500 shillings ($20) for a 10-liter cooking oil
2000 shillings ($16) for transport
Extra hands. Extra plates. Extra love.
Anything you can donate will be much appreciated. No amount is too small. Even a shilling or a dollar adds another name to our list.
What We Give Back
Stories, photos, gratitude, transparency—we’ll show you the faces you’re giving fed. We’ll send you updates—honest, raw, and unfiltered—no fluff, just facts, and pictures of food.
The Children Who Call Us Auntie and Uncle run when they see us. They don’t care about our names. They care about the smell of freshly prepared food. We’ve watched them grow. We’ve watched them cough in the cold. We’ve watched them sleep beside rats. We’ve watched them protect each other with the kind of loyalty only hunger can teach.
They need us.
And we need you.
Your Donation Is Not a Drop. It’s a Ripple.
You’re not feeding one person. You’re feeding their friend. And their friend’s friend. You’re feeding trust. Community. Resistance against apathy.
We Don’t Want Your Sympathy. We Want Your Solidarity. Please stand with us.
Scan the QR Code below. Send what you can. Please share this with someone who needs to see it. And if you can’t give money, give a word, a moment, or attention.
Because that’s where real change begins.
A Simple Request
Next Sunday, while you rest in your bed or enjoy your brunch, remember this:
Two volunteers will be on the streets of Nairobi, carrying hot food in old containers, looking into the eyes of those the world ignores. You can be part of that—not someday, but today.
GIVE
PLEDGE: “I will not let another week pass without helping feed one forgotten soul.”
Ashes and chapati. That’s what we work with.
But with your help, we can serve dignity, too.
–Salim Mbogo
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