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It's a Saturday morning in Kibera on the outskirts of Kenya's capital, Nairobi.

Matatu drivers beep their horns looking for minibus passengers.

Motor bikes weave through their crowds as street vendors call out their prices.

Everyone on the narrow winding street seems to be in a hurry, including 14-year-old Lydia.

When I wake up, I have to do my chores, wash dishes, mop for the house, and then I go for shower, I dress, then I come for ballet.

Yes, ballet, classical ballet.

Of all the unlikely dance forms, here in one of Africa's largest informal settlements.

Kibera is home to a flourishing dance school, one that Lydia has been attending for more than five years.

When I started coming for ballet, my mom went to Tanzania, so I had to stay with my father alone.

He didn't have school fees for me to go to school, so I used to stay at home.

Lydia's childhood has been full of uncertainty, but for her and hundreds of other children

living here in Kibera, ballet has remained a constant.

Ballet was a place for me to, like, feel at home.

After a stressful day of school, I come for ballet, I express myself, I find friends, we play together.

So ballet has been a very helpful place for me.

On Saturdays, Lydia heads across Kibera through the crowds and past the street vendors, including her mom, who sells fried fish.

Eventually, she reaches the Tacuice gates of Project Elimu,

where she passes the white letters spelling out,

home to Kibra ballerinas.

Two, three, four, one, two, one.

When I'm dancing, I feel joyful, I feel free.

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