The day Esther Gathoni the cleaner from Kangemi went to see the Pope

It is not yet light but the slum village of Kangemi is already awake. Dogs are howling and a cock is shattering the silence.

In Esther Gathoni’s meagre home – walls made from iron sheets, and just one room -  deep in the recesses of the slum, there is also some commotion.

The sound of raindrops falling furiously on her roof fills her with worry, because, this is the day she has an important trip to make.

She's going to see the Pope at the University of Nairobi grounds where he will conduct a mass that is expected to bring together more than 500,000 worshipers.

The rains have also interfered with the power supply in the area, so she is using a candle to light up the room to cook breakfast for her two children; Hellen Njoki, 11, and five-year-old Roseline Muthoni.

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“I always wake up at 5am and prepare everything for my little ones before I leave the house. But today, I woke up by 4am so that I could make it to the university on time,” says Ms Gathoni. She rubs her eyes and yawns, and fusses with the children.

The candle throws feeble light in the single room as she hurriedly prepares tea. I can see on the walls, which she has lined with lace in an attempt to give the room some feminine touch, a picture of the late Maurice Cardinal Otunga, and another of Pope Francis. Next to the photographs is a Catholic Church calendar.

She sits with her children around her small table where they pray before taking their breakfast. The children gulp down the milky tea and nibble at the slices of dry bread.

It is only then when the children are fed and sit back in the little room satisfied, their stomachs full, that she has time for herself. She walks a few steps into her bedroom; separated from her sitting room by a  lacy curtain. She is going to choose what to wear for what she refers to as "a very special event".

After going through her wardrobe carefully, she settles on black pants, a flowered blouse and red sweater. When I ask her why she has chosen this particular outfit, she laughs and says: “It is because the weather is gloomy. The rains may get stronger, and it could get colder. I want to be fully covered.”

For her shoes, Esther chooses slightly raised heels because the rains have made the ground so soggy and slippery. She says she cannot risk wearing flat shoes as they may make her slide and fall.

“Everything has to be thought through; the Pope doesn’t come to Kenya every other day,” she says shyly.

I ask her if it is a new outfit, something she has bought specifically in honour of Francis.

She laughs. “New. This is not new. None of it. I cannot afford new clothes on my salary and with the children to look after.” New or not, Gathoni looks smart and ready to meet the Pope.

It is 7.30 now and a faint glimmer of light has found its way into the room. The slum is fully awake now. It is time to leave for the mass.

But there is problem, a little domestic crisis. Her children are standing by the door. They grab hold of her trousers and try to pull her back. It is clear they want to go along with their mother.

She tells them that even though she would love them to accompany her to the historic event, it would not be possible because of the large crowds expected at the mass.

HUGE CROWD

She turns to me and says: “Every mother would want her children to go with her for such a beautiful event. However, this time I cannot take them because we were told the number of people there might be close to one million. Can you imagine what would happen if you lose your baby among a million people?”

But her five-year-old Musono is too young to listen to reason. She flings herself on her mother. Crowds of between 500,000 to a million mean nothing to a five-year-old. The little girl wants to go with her mum.

Gathoni whispers something to her children, hugs them, and then leaves.

As we walk through the mud and the rain, and try to avoid the deepest and most forbidding of the puddles, 31-year-old Gathoni tells me how life as a single mother, who until recently didn’t have a stable job, can be so hard.

For many years, she walked around Kangemi slums and knocked on doors seeking work as a cleaner. She looks back and says she remembers many days when she would go home empty-handed because she couldn’t find a decent job. On days that she did work, she would earn as little as Sh500. And that was on a good day.

“What did the children eat?” I ask her. She looks at me with wide eyes.

Now, she is employed in a school as a cleaner. Even though she doesn’t earn much, she says her finances have improved. She is more secure. She has a good employer and she feels happier.

As we approach town, the streets are filling up. The mood is good. The crowd is high. After all, why wouldn’t they be? It is a public holiday and a day like no other. They are all going to see the Holy Father. Francis. The Pope himself.

On the way, we come across several people Gathoni recognises from her Parish, St Joseph the Worker. The Pope will visit there tomorrow. They exchange lively greetings, and you can sense their excitement.

I ask her what the Pope’s visit means to her. “Oh! But he is the Pope. It means he has recognised Kenyans as a special people. That is why he chose to visit. There are many countries in the world, but he chose us,” she says.

As we get nearer, the crowd gets larger, more excited. People are screaming and the sense of anticipation is palpable. I can hear women ululating and I wonder if they can see the Popemobile and the escort.

I don’t know, because it is hard to see, and the nearer we get the crowd swallows us into its midst. Now, suddenly, Gathoni starts running. She is gasping for breath and she is scared that she will not make it to the entrance on time.

Soon, the entire crowd is running. Edward Njogu, who we have met on the way, gasps that the mass is important, because the Pope will bless the congregation, and he doesn’t want to miss out.

“I want the Pope to bless my wedding ring so that my marriage can be successful,” the 36-year-old Njogu says.

The numbers are swelled now as we pass the bus stops where coaches from different parishes as far as Kisumu, Mukumu and even Narok are lined up on the highways.

A group is standing there, ignoring the crowd fever, calmly discussing what the mass means to them, and most of them say the mass will leave them more blessed than they came.

It is 9.30 when we reach the university grounds. The road ahead is blocked so we have to make a detour. This makes everyone break into a trot that becomes a sprint.  And then something strange happened. As we enter the grounds, the mood changes. Worries vanish in a flash. The crowd breaks into a dance and begins to sing, joining the mass choir made of more than 300 singers.

The rain continues to fall. It is seeping into tired bones but it does not dampen either their enthusiasm or energy.

Gathoni joins them in every song they sing. Hallelujah, Uninyunyuzie maji, Baraka kutoka kwa Mungu, she sings. “I know these songs. We sing them at our Parish,” she tells me.

When the Pope steps up to talk, Gathoni is all ears. When the Pope talks about how important family is, Gathoni nods.

“The health of any society depends on the health of its family,” says Francis in his sermon.

Esther wholly agrees, adding that she believes there would be no country if there was no family.

When it is time to take communion, for a moment, she gets worried that the Fathers would not be able to reach her due to the large multitude at the campus.

SEA OF HUMANITY

“We are too many. Maybe some of us will not get communion,” she says.

She gets excited when she sees fathers dressed in crisp white gowns snake their way through the sea of humanity.

And then, all of a sudden, it is over. The Pope has gone. The priests who served him, are gathering up their articles of faith. It is time to go home.

The rains have made the grounds at UoN muddy and slippery. It becomes almost impossible for the crowd to walk out. Their shoes make sucking noises as they plod about seeking their way out.

It takes almost one hour for Gathoni to get to the highway. Then she boards a bus home.

At home, she is met by her children and curious neighbours but Gathoni is too tired to engage with them. Even though she is excited to share with them her experience at the mass, she says she just want to rest before she can relate to them how it felt to have the most powerful man in the Catholic Church stand before her.

And anyway, there is tomorrow (today) to think about. Pope Francis is coming to her church in Kangemi. And Esther is going to meet him.