The air at Lang’ata Cemetery was heavy with grief and unasked questions as Nairobi bid a tearful farewell to 15 of its street children, their young lives cut short by the harsh indifference of the city.

In scenes that would break the hardest of hearts, fellow street families—the "chokoras" we ignore at traffic lights—served as the pallbearers. They carried the small white coffins, some containing bodies of infants as young as three months old. The burial, coordinated by philanthropist Agnes Kagure, was a rare moment of dignity for a community that lives and dies in the shadows.

A Mystery in the Morgue

The most disturbing aspect of this tragedy is the silence surrounding the deaths. The bodies were collected from various city mortuaries, including City Mortuary and Mama Lucy Hospital. Causes of death remain vague—pneumonia, malnutrition, "mob justice"—euphemisms for the brutal reality of street life. There were no government officials present, no speeches from the Children’s Department.

"These are not just bodies; they are our brothers and sisters," cried one mourner, a teenager clutching a wooden cross. "The city killed them, and now the city buries them."

• The Youngest Victim: The sight of a tiny coffin for a 3-month-old baby brought the gathering to its knees. Born on the pavement, died on the pavement.
• The solidarity: Agnes Kagure provided the buses and the coffins, stepping in where the state had failed. She called for a systemic overhaul of how Nairobi handles its vulnerable children.
• The Reality: The burial highlights the exploding crisis of homelessness in Nairobi, exacerbated by the demolitions in informal settlements.

The City Moves On

As the red earth of Lang’ata covered the 15 coffins, the traffic on Lang’ata Road roared on, oblivious. Nairobi had buried its shame, but the problem remains alive on the streets. Tonight, another child will sleep in the cold, and unless we act, another coffin will soon be needed.