George Obama sits in front of his home in a slum in Nairobi, Kenya
In November 2008, I stood in a bar in Kenya watching Barack Obama give his victory speech. From the wild cheering of the crowd on TV, and his repeated appeals to them personally-"You said," "You heard," "You called"-I felt as if the people of America knew this man far better than I, even though we shared the same father.If there was a leading light in the Obama clan, he was it; and if therewas a shadowed place that no one liked to talk about, then that, Iguess, was me.

Kenya, Africa

After a relatively privileged childhood, I crashed and burned in myteenage years. I had migrated from the plush suburbs of Nairobi, Kenya,to the wild chaos of the ghetto. I lost myself in drink and drugs and became a gun-toting gangster.In my early 20s, I spent a year in a Nairobi prison on robbery charges.My imprisonment included a starvation diet and 24/7 lockdowns inovercrowded, airless cells. But I came out a different man, resolved to turn my life around and find a different path.

Along with some fellow slum dwellers, I set up a youth group for ghetto kids. My passion was football (soccer), which is followed religiously throughout Africa. When we first established the Huruma Centre Football Club, none of our kids had so much as a pair of football boots, let alone any uniform. Some were so hungry when they turned up that they had no energy to play.At other times, the team had to trek for miles to matches because wecouldn't afford any transportation. In spite of all that, our playerswere passionate, and we started winning. Then, as my brother's profilegrew in America and around the world, the media came looking for hisAfrican relatives.

Eventually the press found me in my slum. My new notoriety was a blessing and a curse. Many people presume I have a direct line to the White House, but I don't. I've only met my big brother twice and have spoken to him just once since the election, to say congratulations.Still, because of our connection, I managed to pull in funds fromphilanthropists to support the work of the youth group. I raised enoughmoney to buy the team gold and green uniforms-with their own numbers onthe back. Last fall, Obama's Champs won the Nairobi Super League-a featthat, just a couple of years back, would have been unthinkable for ateam from the slums. With the sponsorship I've attracted because of mylast name, we can now afford to take buses all across Kenya for matches.

A slum in Kenya
I still live in one of Africa's biggest slums, along with some 4.5 million others. We have little or no access to health care, no welfare, and no free schooling. The average income is less than $5 a day-and that's for those who find work as servants, taxi drivers, or garbage collectors. For the rest, there is nothing. Mybrother has risen to be the leader of the most powerful country in theworld. In Kenya I hope to be a leader among the poorest, most powerlesspeople on earth-the people of the ghetto.

Hope-it's an idea my brother talked about a lot. But it was onlyrecently that I learned again what it means to feel the true spirit ofthat word. Here, a little goes a long way.

By George Obama | NEWSWEEK Published Jan 2, 2010 From the magazine issue dated Jan 11, 2010