Matthew Meyer, Ecosandals.com

Matthew Meyer is a third-year law student at the University of Michigan. In 1995 he cofounded the Wikyo Akala Project, which today sells used-tire sandals around the world at Ecosandals.com.

Each time I travel to Kenya to visit the Wikyo Akala Project, sandal-makers invite me over for lunch. Such hospitality is common throughout East Africa; in fact, there is a Swahili saying that a visitor is a blessing. There is a Matthew Meyer saying that people who offer me food are a blessing. So we get along well, although the sandal-makers probably end up having me as a lunch guest far more often than they ever intended.

The Korogocho diet is largely vegetarian, as meat is prohibitively expensive, so the lunches generally consist of ugali (a Kenyan corn-based staple) and sukamawiki (flavored greens that are said to give you strength). Usually the lunches are little feasts, with as many as 10 friends and family members of the sandal-maker joining us. We wash our hands, say a brief prayer, and then dig in to communal plates at the center of the table. A few extra kids often miraculously appear to assist once we start eating the food.

But last week, when I went to the house of a sandal-maker named Maina, there was no such feast or fanfare. Maina served us alone. There was no family around. Two other visitors and I had a few pieces of bread and sodas. Maina's home, like that of all the sandal-makers, is a simple one-room structure. The bed is set off from the sitting area with a curtain. A little gas stove and two pots in the corner of the room constitute the kitchen. With the exception of his bed and sofa, all of Maina's material possessions could probably fit in the backpack I carried to his home that day.

"Where is your mother?" I instinctively asked. He was silent for a moment, and in that interval I remembered that Maina's mother had died over a year ago, while I was back in Michigan.

Death -- from AIDS, typhoid, cholera, childbirth, car accidents -- casts a ubiquitous shadow over Korogocho. Few sandal-makers have two living parents. Of the five that have been with the project the longest, three have recently lost an immediate family member. This makes it easy for me to explain to potential customers in the U.S. why buying sandals at Ecosandals.com is important -- why it is critical to help provide money for housing and education and medicine to the people of Korogocho -- but it didn't make it any easier for me to sit across from Maina, foot in mouth, and understand his pain.

Still, Maina gracefully thanked me for joining him for lunch and explained that sandal sales had paid for the soda I drank and the bread I ate -- not to mention the room I sat in and, he said, even the smile on his face. That's good news, obviously, but we still have not sold enough to pay Maina as much as we (or he) would like. Maina's mother died during his initial three-month training period, and simply paying his $10 monthly rent became a huge chore. Fighting personal tragedy is always difficult; doing so when the tragedy has taken away the hand that feeds you can be devastating. But Maina learned to cope without his mother. He works hard and pays his own rent. His peers consider him a leader in the project. Sandal-makers are guaranteed 30 percent of all profits, which enables Maina to earn as much as $50 per month.

By local standards, that's a decent wage -- but it doesn't mitigate the living conditions in Korogocho, to which no human being should be subjected. Death, disease, malnutrition, illiteracy, and violent crime are just a few of the challenges that confront the sandal-makers virtually every day. Still, I have learned, over time, that we cannot solve all of Maina's problems at once. What we can do is offer a friendly and interesting workplace, a greater understanding of environmental and economic sustainability, and the financial and personal rewards of hard work. It is not enough, but it is something; for Maina, at least, it has been of help during a difficult year.