Whichever way they tread, the stench surrounds them. They are too young to know what goes on, but every day, like commanders inspecting a guard of honour, the nursery school children must pass between rows of half-naked women, waving off the overpowering odour of illicit drugs and sweat.
On this hot Friday afternoon, we visit this dungeon in Nairobi’s downtown. There is a façade of calm and everyone seems busy, with hawkers shouting at the top of their voices to attract buyers.