In the central and and northern regions of Kenya, the first weekend of sunshine and no rain has arrived after the violent floods of the past weeks that have claimed more than 260 official victims, with 70 people still missing, more than 200,000 displaced and 55,000 people left without a roof, which means that no one will rebuild it or provide them with a new one.
In addition to this, there is a great deal of damage to infrastructure, isolated villages, and moral damage, the invisible but profound damage of those who have struggled to build something for themselves and who, through no fault of their own, have fled in a matter of moments.
The clichés about Africa have always led us to think that these people have nothing and it always rains wet for them, that they are resigned to resignation and that they are 'last' people who can only be helped to survive.
Nairobi, on the other hand, shows that this is not the case: the majority of the people live in what we would call miserable conditions, but they are part of a Kenyan middle class that wakes up every day, goes to work, sends their children to school and behaves more or less like us westerners, or like we Italians were in the 1950s for example, especially in the south. For these people, the floods have meant losing everything, with the knowledge that there is no state to think of them and that, paradoxically, the large and small non-governmental organisations, think of the 'last', those who had nothing to lose and have lost it and whom conscience or 'good looks' dictate that they should help first.
In the meantime, they now also have to reckon with disease, because the rains have brought malaria back above the alert threshold and cholera outbreaks are appearing.