In the heart of Kibera, one of Nairobi’s most densely populated slums, a school offers refuge to orphans and children whose parents cannot afford food, let alone school fees.

A train cuts right through Kibera, houses right next to the open tracks, people crossing, children playing. The train, the poverty, insecurity and disease leave these children vulnerable to trauma, which traps them in the past and blocks their ability to learn.

A Kenyan colleague took me along to visit the school to explore providing trauma healing for the children. We met the founder—an ordinary woman with an extraordinary heart and courageous faith in God to provide.

Inside the crowded classrooms, one dedicated teacher juggled all subjects, all grades, hoping some students might make it beyond primary school—even to university. In the courtyard, the children lined up for ugali, often their only food for the day.

Then the dancing began. The children sang their hearts out, clapping, one drumming on an empty plastic jug. They danced on and on, taking turns as lead, sweat glistening in the hot sun.

And somehow, in that rhythm and movement, they found healing.

“When we dance, we don’t feel the pain.”

Dance, dance. Especially when troubles in life increase.