33-year-old Beth Cecilia Piyai from Kajiado county is a mother of five. Her children –all boys -are aged 11 years, 9 years, 7 years, 5 years and 2 years. After delivering her lastborn child two years ago, Beth, an unemployed widow, developed a fistula, and had no means to have it repaired. But as from July 2019, Beth received a new lease of life. She tells us more.

“When I went into labor with my fifth-born son, I knew it would be a normal delivery devoid of any complications, just as it had been with my previous births.

My labor began while I was at home with my husband at 9pm. He then accompanied me to a nearby health facility where my labor continued.

However, when I had not delivered by 10am the following day, which was unusual based on my previous births, the nurses informed us it was because the baby was in breech position, hence the difficulty.

Aware of the potential risks associated with a breech birth, I was referred to a better-equipped facility. There, I was informed I would have to deliver my baby via caesarean section.

Something Wrong with my Caeserean Section

My baby was delivered successfully weighing 3.4kgs. However, I remember during the caesarean section (it was an epidural), the two doctors at one point appeared worried and in disagreement about something. Concerned, I asked if there was something wrong, to which they assured me that all was well, that I just needed to relax. A few minutes later, they called for another doctor.

When the third doctor came in, he put me to sleep through general anesthesia. I wasn’t informed about why this was being done. When I woke up about 13 hours later, I was handed my baby, who was in perfect health.

I continued recovering well, save for the time I noticed that alongside the lochia, I was also passing urine involuntarily. Since I had never undergone a caesarean section before, I assumed this was part of the side effects of the surgery. But just to be on the safe side, I asked the nurses about it, who told me it was nothing to be alarmed about, that the leaks would stop on their own.

Discovering that I had Fistula  

Three days later, my baby and I were discharged.

The urine leaks continued and when, a month later I was still wetting myself with urine, I decided to return to the hospital because I thought it was quite unusual.

At the hospital, the doctor informed me that I had developed a fistula. I was shocked because I hadn’t expected to develop such a complication because I had given birth in hospital. I always knew that people who give birth at home are the ones who undergo a myriad of complications, so the doctor’s diagnosis greatly surprised me.

Death of my Husband

Around the same time, my husband died suddenly through a road accident. It was a double tragedy. Widowed with five children –including a newborn, and now with a fistula!

The doctor told me that I would have to undergo a fistula repair surgery and referred me to Kenyatta National Hospital (KNH). I however never went to KNH because I knew that the surgery would cost a lot of money, which I didn’t have. So I decided to leave well alone and focus on raising my sons.

I couldn’t afford diapers to contain the leaked urine, so I would use pieces of old cloth which I would then wash at the end of the day.

Letting go of my Job Because of the Smell

Before I delivered my son, I was working in a salon. But with my fistula, it became difficult to return to work. Owing to the smell that would emanate from me and considering the nature of salon work –which many times has a personal touch, I found that the odour would be offensive to my clients, so I decided to stay at home.

One thing that I did was never hide my condition from family and friends. They were very supportive and would help me with food and baby sit my children whenever I needed to run an errand.

My eldest son has however always been worried about me, and especially how my fistula has limited me from taking advantage of various opportunities, including job offers.

I also stopped going to church regularly with my children like I used to, and when I went, it would be for only 30 minutes and even then, I would sit at the back of the church.

The Concern of a Son

One time, my eldest son asked me how much the surgery would cost, and I told him it needed a lot of money. Sometimes, I would give my sons 20 shillings each for camel rides, and he told me that instead of riding on the camel, he would instead save the 20 shillings in a piggy bank and let it accumulate until the day it would be enough for me to undergo the fistula repair surgery. I could see that the issue bothered him a lot, but I knew that there was no way I could ever afford to have the surgery.

In June this year, he one day excitedly told me that he had seen an advert on Citizen television announcing a free fistula repair surgery at KNH. He was so excited that finally, I could be treated!

But sadly, I didn’t share the same excitement with him.

Fear of another Surgery

I was worried about going to theatre again because, what would happen if I didn’t come out alive? Who would take care of my five sons? I didn’t want them to be orphaned, so I told him that I would not take up the offer.

My decision completely devastated him. He became so sad and withdrawn, making me miserable as well. But I was too scared, thinking of the future of my sons without me. Going under the knife was not an option for me.

But the more I looked at how dejected my son was, and how my reluctance to get a solution to my obvious predicament that had changed our lives for two years, I decided to overcome my fear –if only to bring back the joy in his life.

And that is how I took up the offer of the free fistula repair surgery at KNH this year. I have just undergone the surgery and I am very happy that I came out alive! The nurses and the doctors were very helpful and kept explaining every process, in detail, which assured me that all was going to be well. I am the happiest mother today!

At the age of 15 years, I fell pregnant. It was a relatively uneventful pregnancy since I didn’t experience any significant challenges. If only I could say the same of the labor!

When I went into labor, I trekked to the nearest public hospital where I had been undergoing my antenatal clinics. But I was in for a rude shock because the government nurses were on a nationwide strike, meaning there was no one giving care to patients and those seeking services, including pregnant women such as myself. There were only few volunteers, mostly retired nurses.

I was in labor for endless hours, just hoping for the best. Eventually, when the volunteers arrived to attend to me, they told me that my baby was already dead. Apparently, I had been in labor for too long. I was also informed me that because of my age and diminutive structure, I needed to have the foetus removed through a caesarean section. I was sad to hear that because I had been looking forward to becoming a mother. I was taken to theatre where they delivered my dead son. I went on to stay in hospital for two weeks as I recovered, where I continued being attended to by volunteers.

But my agony didn’t end there. Upon my return home, I noticed that I would wet myself like a baby. I couldn’t understand why this was the case, but I hoped that as my caesarean wound continued to heal, then the urine would stop leaking too. I nevertheless became ashamed and withdrawn because of the foul smell that would be with me constantly. It became very embarrassing to be in the presence of people, because they would begin holding their noses around me.

In fact, the most taunting comments came from my peers –fellow girls. They would refuse to hang out with me, and immediately walk away when I approached them, or when I walked into a room. I became so broken, to the point that I contemplated suicide. I was young, an outcast who was shunned by my friends. My son was dead, and I therefore felt that I had nothing to live for.

I decided to live a solitary life at home. I stopped going out to social places such as the church, to the market and other places where young girls would gather. I also decided to stop visiting friends, because while at their place, they would offer me a cup of tea or water to drink and immediately I did so, I would start leaking urine and hence stain their seats. I chose to stay home instead.

This went on for years until sometime in June this year, when a neighbor who works in Nairobi told me that there would be a free hospital camp for women who had a problem such as mine. Having witnessed the agony I had undergone over the years, and knowing I couldn’t afford the transport costs, she sent me money for my bus fare and I made my way to Kenyatta National Hospital (KNH) in Nairobi. When I got there, I was registered, evaluated by the doctors, and scheduled for the surgery, which went on successfully.

Today, as I recover at the KNH wards, I beam with happiness because I feel as though I am starting my life afresh. It has been a difficult five years where I was unable to accomplish much, because I was always in the house. Now I feel confident that I will be able to go out and even look for work and be able to earn my living.

I am grateful to all the people who made this surgery possible, because it helps people like me from the rural areas who are not able to afford such treatment. Thank you FDSA, FFF and other partners for giving me a new lease of life!

By Lesley C.

A friend will ask, how are you? Often we reply, am OK. But inside we’re not fine at all. We are all created as beautiful vessels. But sometimes the vessels break. We break, emotional, spiritually or physically. Others can be mended, others take long and others suffer silently alone without being mended.

A woman is a beautiful vessel, made by God. We are strong vessels but life can be so hard and leaves us broken. Though broken a woman can smile and takes care of her baby and family, carrying the wound and scar for years. I thank God that this scar wasn’t on our face, coz all women could be ugly, and we carry this scar for our families, our clan, our community, and our country. Without this scar there are no people, no presidents, no CEO’s, no Doc’s, no life on earth, this is the scar of ‘life’, scar of pride, scar of honor.

Today we come out to honor our scars, to heal our scars and to tell the world we are still the most beautiful and strongest vessels made.

We thank our Almighty Potter, who is mending our hearts and our scars through the gifted hands of our surgeon’s through the Flying Doctors Society, Created by our own children brought into this world by the scar.

Fistula doesn’t choose the vessel to destroy, whether you are poor, or rich, educated or not. It’s like any other disease but carried by shame and stigma.

Let’s lift our pride high women. This is a Scar of pride and Honor. We were beautifully and wonderfully made. Let’s shine and dance with Pride & Honor.

We call upon our children, our husbands, brothers & sisters. Don’t abandon us as we struggle to bring forth humanity.

GOD BLESS US. WE ARE PHENOMENAL WOMEN, GOD’S OWN CREATION

It all began on the night that she went into labor, at nine months pregnant. Even though she was mentally prepared for the baby’s arrival, she hadn’t anticipated that her labor to come at night. The time was 9pm.

Juliet’s house was a considerable distance away from the main road and with no public means to get her to hospital at that late hour, she began to panic. Thankfully, her older sister lived nearby and together, they decided to brave the difficult and risky walk through the dark bushes, hoping they would get to hospital before the baby arrived. Thus they began the eight-kilometer trek to the main road, where they hoped they would get a lift from a Good Samaritan to the hospital.

The time then was 11pm and slowly, the two women walked through the dangerous thicket, hopeful that they would not meet gangsters or at worst, wild animals.

“We live right next to the Aberdare forest and often, wild animals stray into our farms. Our paths only illuminated by our small mobile phones. Even though we were very scared, all we could do was pray and hope for the best,” she remembers.

After a walk of about 30 minutes, Juliet told her sister that she could walk no more. She was too exhausted.

“My sister then spread a lesso on the grass and asked me to sit down. I said my last prayers because I was sure that I was going to die. I felt horrible, because I would leave my young children parentless. However, my sister kept praying and telling me to be strong.”

After laboring for hours in the dark, cold night, an exasperated Juliet eventually delivered her baby with the assistance of her sister.

“My sister had thankfully carried a razor blade and a string, which she used for the delivery. The only light she had for the childbirth was the dim light from our mobile phones. Sadly, my baby – a boy, was already dead,” a mournful Juliet remembers.

After the birth, Juliet became cold and started shivering. She was also bleeding heavily.

“As I lay there, I wasn’t sure if I was alive or dead as I kept drifting in and out of consciousness. By the grace of God, 6am found me alive and at once we saw light, we slowly walked the remainder of the journey –about 6 kilometers to the main road where we stopped the first vehicle that passed,” Juliet remembers.

At the hospital, Juliet would be admitted for a week. During this time though, she noticed that her urine would freely flow, and hard as she tried to stop it, she just could not. The doctors informed her that she needed to undergo some tests to determine the nature of her problem, and referred her to a private hospital.

When she went there, she was informed that the tests would cost Sh13,000 –money she could not afford. She accepted that her new life would be all about leaking urine.

One day, she and her sisters were seated together listening to a radio broadcast, when they heard something interesting.

“It was an announcement calling all women who leaked either urine or faeces –or both, to attend a free fistula camp at the Kenyatta National Hospital in Nairobi. We could not believe our ears. I immediately travelled to Nairobi. That was in June 2015.”

Juliet underwent the free surgery and upon discharge, she boarded a matatu back to Nyeri.

“The matatu ride was rough and difficult, as I kept being thrown up and down. I was in so much pain from the fresh surgery and was relieved at the end of the two-and-a-half-hour journey.

Unfortunately, a few weeks later, she realized that she was back to the leaking urine problem.

One year later, in July 2016, she once again attended the free fistula camp sponsored by the Flying Doctors Society of Africa and the Freedom from Fistula Foundation. This time round, she planned to avoid travelling back to Nyeri immediately after discharge, until she was sure she had the doctor’s approval.

“I thank all the people who have made this surgery people, because my dignity has been restored and now I can carry on with my business –which had greatly suffered because of the fistula. I will now focus on raising my children again,” she says.

When it was time to deliver her baby, Milka began experiencing labor pains while at home at 5am. She then boarded a bicycle taxi (boda boda) and began her journey to the hospital.

With no clear road, the path that the bicycle took were rocky, bushy and practically non-existent, making the ride and arduous one for the woman in labor. The bicycle dropped her off at a stop, after which she then boarded yet another bicycle, which would then transport her to the main road where she would be able to find a vehicle that would take her to the hospital. By the time the heavily pregnant Milkah got to the hospital, it was 4pm. The journey from home to the hospital had taken her 11 hours.

She would eventually end up having a caesarean section after the doctors established that a normal delivery would not be possible because her pelvis was ‘too small’. Unfortunately, Milka’s baby was born dead.

Four years later, Milkah conceived again. This time round, she was married and was no longer living in a remote rural area where infrastructure was poor. When time came for her to deliver –signaled by labor pains, Milkah quickly made her way to the hospital.

Owing to her previous birth experience, Milkah informed the nurses about her ‘small pelvis’ condition, advising them to take her for a caeserian section immediately. However, the nurses ignored her pleas.

Four days later, still admitted in hospital and in labor, the nurses, rather belatedly, realized that she was not going to delivery naturally, and realized that a caesarean section was inevitable. But as fate would have it, it was at the same time that the country was undergoing a crisis in the health sector as doctors in public hospitals had gone on strike. Unfortunately for Milkah, there was no doctor in the public hospital she was in who would perform the surgery.

Her family then decided to rush her to a nearby private hospital, where she underwent a caesarean section. Unfortunately, once again, the baby was already dead –something they told her was because she had been in labor for too long and the baby had died out of distress.

However, her problems were far from over.

“A few days after being discharged from hospital and without a child for the second time, I realized that I was leaking urine. When I returned to the hospital, I was told it was as a result of prolonged labor which had caused internal injury. I was further informed that I needed Sh30,000 to correct the problem. I could not afford this money, so I returned home dejected,” she remembers.

However, relief came from her friend who had suffered the same condition and had the previous year undergone a successful fistula repair surgery at Kenyatta National Hospital (KNH) in Nairobi. She informed her of a similar surgery that was to be conducted by the same people -the Flying Doctors Society of Africa (FDSA) in collaboration with the Freedom from Fistula Foundation (FFF) and KNH.

We met Milkah recuperating at KNH three days after her free successful surgery. The joy that she beamed was contagious.

“I can’t believe that I’m not leaking urine anymore,” a jovial Milka told us, adding that “my life is just about to get back on track.”

Milka told us that she has always been a hardworking girl, never one to sit idle. However, all that had changed since the loss of her two babies and the fistula she developed.

“Before my first pregnancy, I was working as a chef and waiter at a small restaurant near home, which enabled me earn and income and contribute to the household expenses. However, after I lost my baby, my morale went down as I mourned the loss of my first child. After I got married, I wanted to get back to the workforce after I had nursed my baby, but that was not to be. Even worse, I now had this condition that further dented my self-esteem. After the loss of my child and the leaking urine problem, I lost all form of dignity and became a very sad girl. However, now that I have already undergone the surgery at no cost, I feel as though a new chapter of life is starting for me. My dignity has been restored!”

She traces the start of her agony to the birth of her second child in 1996. When labor came, she was at home with her husband. With the contractions increasing by the minute, it greatly worried the young couple because it was late in the night and they did not have a vehicle or any means of transport to get them to the hospital, which was a distance of 14 kilometers away. It however soon became clear that they would not make it to hospital, prompting her husband to dash out of the house to fetch his mother, who lived about 100 meters from their house. An experienced woman, they had no doubt that she would help them birth the child.

However, by the time Evalynne’s husband returned home with his mother, Evalynne had already given birth –alone. The following day, a neighbor who was a nurse, came and checked on them and after certifying that they were both okay, she left.

However, two weeks later, Evalynne noticed she was leaking stool and informed her husband about it. Concerned for her health, the couple yearned to see a doctor, but were nevertheless constrained by their finances. She never sought treatment, and leaking stool would define Evalynne’s life for the next 10 years.

One day in 2006, she met a doctor who told her that her condition was treatable through surgery. It would however cost Sh40,000 –a huge amount that would clearly be difficult for her to raise. But eventually, after almost a year, she raised the money and recalls the day of the surgery.

“The doctor’s clinic was a small office in the rural town center. The room where the surgery took place was not a theatre, but just a small bed which he asked me to lie in. He began the ‘operation’ at 10am, and I did not wake up until 5pm.”

But her agony was far from over. It was not an in-patient clinic, and so Evalynne had to return home -a distance of 14 kilometers aboard a boda boda (bicycle taxi) since she could not afford any other transport means.

“I had to sit on the bicycle all through the rough and dusty road. It was a most grueling, painful experience,” she remembers.

However, her joy was short-lived. She had expected to stop leaking stool after the surery, but became disappointed when the problem persisted. She suspects the arduous bicycle journey may have damaged her. Her life remained difficult.

“It was tough for me because, as a teacher, I have to stand before pupils all the time. Sometimes I would fart uncontrollably while other times, I would soil my clothes. My life was full of embarrassment,” she says.

One day, Evalynne heard a radio announcement calling on women suffering from leaking urine or stool to attend a free fistula repair camp in Nairobi, at the Kenyatta National Hospital (KNH). She wasted no time and immediately boarded a bus to Nairobi, where she underwent a successful fistula repair surgery in July 2016. The surgery was made possible by among others -the Flying Doctors Society of Africa (FDSA) and the Freedom from Fistula Foundation, in collaboration with KNH and Royal Media Services.

We met her a few days after her surgery, and she was all smiles.

“Do you know what I will now be able to do?” she asked us.

“I have always loved politics, but my ambition was limited by my fistula. But not anymore. I will run for office, starting with the Kenya National Union of Teachers (KNUT) politics in my Western Kenya backyard.

Evalynne informs us that she had once, on a campaign trail for an elective post in the teaching fraternity, stood up to address a crowd comprised of her fellow teachers.

“As I was speaking, I began farting loudly, uncontrollably. The farts were coming from both my front and back sides. It was so embarrassing as my entire audience heard the farts. I had to abruptly end my speech, as I felt so much shame and humiliation. That was the day I quit politics. But now, I will return since my problem is over. I am confident I will win and bring change to the education sector in the country, starting with my community in Bungoma,” she says.

Evalynne adds that she will use her influential teaching position to create awareness around fistula because, just like her, she knows of the many women who are suffering from the condition.

Having never gone to school all her life, Naropil would spend her days herding her husband’s livestock, or staying at home undertaking domestic chores. Her marital bliss would further be heightened when she fell pregnant shortly thereafter.

It was a smooth pregnancy for the 15 year-old, who knew that the end result would be a bouncing baby and a happy husband –and by extension -a happy family and a happy community around her.

At the end of her pregnancy, at nine months, Naropil would begin experiencing labor pains. Even though she was miles away from a health facility, it did not worry her since she had no intention of giving birth in a health center anyway.

“Where I come from, we don’t go to hospital. All health remedies are found locally. During birth, –mothers, aunts, cousins and female neighbors are the ones who assist in the delivery,” she says.

But after five days of intense pain with no baby in sight, her husband, fearful that he would lose his young and new wife, decided to go against his culture and take her to the local hospital. There, Naropil underwent an emergency caesarean section.

“Unfortunately, my baby was born dead. The doctors told me that I had taken too long to come to the hospital after my labor started, so the baby had died in my stomach. It was a baby girl,” a mournful Naropil says.

A few days after she was discharged from hospital, Naropil noticed that she would always urinate on herself. She wondered why she was unable to hold in her urine like she had always done before.

Naropil explained this ‘strange phenomenon’ to her husband, who told her not to worry and that with time, she would heal and the leaking urine problem would be a thing of the past. However, days, weeks and months went on, with the urine continuing to leak with no reprieve in sight.

Thankfully, in 2013 –two years after the stillbirth of her daughter, she decided to return to the hospital and inform them about the problem she had developed after the delivery.

“The doctors told me about a free surgery for women with problems like mine, and referred me to a private hospital in Nairobi for the surgery. I immediately went for it.”

However, Naropil says she was disappointed because even after the surgery, the leaking never stopped, yet the doctors had reassured her that it would. Disappointed, she continued with her regular life in rural Narok, sad that she would always have the leaking urine problem –and the constant smell it brought along.

That was until she learnt of the free fistula camp at the Kenyatta National Hospital in July 2016, which was being undertaken in collaboration with the Flying Doctors Society of Africa (FDSA) and the Freedom from Fistula Foundation (FFF). She informed her husband, who facilitated her journey to the capital city of Nairobi for her surgery.

We met her at the KNH ward, recuperating after having undergone a successful fistula repair surgery just two days before. She was beaming and full of hope.

“These doctors were very good and told me that they have now fixed the reason behind my urine leaks. I am very excited and when I return home and after six months, I will try to get pregnant again,” she said.

Before undergoing the fistula repair surgery, Naropil told us that she had once lost a pregnancy at two months, which nurses had told her was because of the fistula.

“The fistula has now been repaired and I believe I will be able to carry my next pregnancy to term. It is my great desire to be a mother. Aside from that, I really want to give my husband a child and I now believe that it will be possible to do so,” a beaming Naropil told us.

When she finally began experiencing labor pains, Mwikali decided to stay at home first as the pains progressed, until a time when she was sure the baby was just about to arrive. And it is exactly what she did.

However, when Mwikali arrived at the hospital, she was turned away, with the nurses telling her that her baby was not yet due. She returned home as instructed by the medics.

But at home, the pains did not stop and a few days later, she decided to return to the hospital. But once again, she was turned away, and told to return when she was sure her baby was almost coming.

Eventually, 18 days after she first experienced what believes were labor pains, she went to the hospital, ready to deliver her baby.

Mwikali describes her birth experience in the hospital as her worst experience ever.

“As my labor progressed and as I cried out with each contraction, calling out for the help, I was responded to rudely, with the nurses telling me to stop yelling or they would throw me out of the hospital. At some point, I remember receiving a slap from one of the nurses due to ‘my constant nagging’. I ended up delivering the baby on my own right there in the hospital ward, as the nurses engaged in pointless banter. None of them came to my assistance as I delivered my baby on my own,” a sad Mwikali remembers.

But her tribulations did not end there. She soon noticed that she could not hold in her faeces and urine anymore. After returning home with her newborn, the leaking stool and urine bothered Mwikali so much that she returned to the hospital, which was tens of kilometres away from her home. Due to the distance, which she needed to make on foot in rough terrain and under the scorching heat, she decided to leave her baby behind –under the care of relatives.

But once at the hospital, she was told that her case was severe and was immediately admitted. Sad at the thought of not returning to her baby that day, she could only hope that her newborn would be well taken care of by her relatives.

But the worst was yet to come.

A few days after her admission, she received news that her baby had died. He was only two weeks old.

“I was not around to offer him breastmilk. I come from a poor family where cow’s milk is a treasure, so my relatives were feeding him on porridge. I don’t know if they it was the porridge that was bad, or if it is because he was too little to take porridge. All that I know is that my baby –the only child I would ever have, died,” she says, a forlorn look on her face.

That was in 1963. For the last five decades, her life has been a miserable shell, where she hides from people because of her foul smell. Her life has also been characterized by constant visits to the hospital due to the issue, which has seen her undergo five surgeries that attempted to repair the fistulas. Only the second surgery was partly successful for it repaired her rectovaginal fistula. The vesicovaginal fistula was never successful.

In June 2015, while listening to her favorite radio station which broadcasts in her vernacular Kikamba language –Muusyi FM, she heard the call for women who leaked urine or feaces to make their way to the Kenyatta National Hospital in the capital city of Nairobi. And she did exactly that, hoping that the free services applied to all women –both young and old as she. Mwikali could not wait to be rid of the agony that her life had been for the last 52 years.

“It’s never too late for one to seek a better life even in their sunset years,” she told herself as she boarded a matatu to Nairobi.

After undergoing her sixth surgery which turned out successful, Mwikali was overjoyed, happy that she no longer leaks urine, but that she will never have to undergo surgery again.

“This is unbelievable. I had long given up hope of living a normal life again. Today, I am able to not only smile, but laugh out loud –something that I have not done in five decades. The nasty labor and birth experience, my son’s demise, combined with years of leaking urine and faeces robbed me of my laughter. But today, I can smile again. I can laugh again. Thank you Flying Doctors and the Freedom from Fistula Foundation and the lovely medical team that made this possible.”

Mwikali is one of the 208 beneficiaries of the free fistula medical camp this year. She is one of the six women from Kitui county who underwent successful repair surgery.

Story by Maryanne Waweru-Wanyama

“I remember labouring for days on end and when my baby finally came out, they told me that he was already dead. When I asked why he was dead, they told me that he was too big. I don’t know what happened to my baby’s body because I never saw him. They took him away and to date, I have never known where they buried him,” she says.

But those around her comforted her, telling her that she was still young, that she had her whole life ahead of her to give birth to as many children as she desired.

Irene was discharged from hospital the following day. But by then, she had already noticed something strange about her body.

“I noticed that I was unable to control my urine. However, it did not worry me as much because I assumed that it was something normal that happened to all mothers who had just given birth. I only hoped it would end soon. I was further comforted when I confided in my friend about it, who then assured me that as long as I ate a balanced diet, I would stop leaking the urine,” she says.

At that time, Irene was living with an aunt, having been orphaned when she was just a little girl.

“I followed my friend’s advice and tried as much as possible to eat a balanced diet. But it did not work. I continued wetting my pants,” says the girl who was forced to drop out of school after falling pregnant.

The previous jolly girl who walked tall and free now became a shadow of her former self, stuck in her own prison.

“I stopped meeting my friends and preferred to stay indoors throughout. I was too embarrassed by my leaking problem. At home, I would spread an old bedsheet which I would sit on all day long, wash it at night, dry it, then use it again the following day. It is a routine I have religiously undertaken for the last ten years. I practically have no social life. The four walls in my room are my only companions,” she says.

Last month, while listening to Egessa FM – a radio station that broadcasts in her vernacular Kisii language, Irene heard an announcement about a free medical camp in Nairobi calling on all women who leaked urine to access free treatment. Excited at the news, she quickly packed her bags and made her way to Kenyatta National Hospital.

A few days later, she underwent a successful VVF operation that repaired the injury she suffered during her difficult labor birth ten years ago. She was one of the three women from Kisii country who underwent a similar operation. This year’s free fistula medical camp, organized by the Flying Doctors Society of Africa and the Freedom from Fistula Foundation saw 208 women from across the country benefit.

Today, Irene is all smiles as she looks forward to the new phase in her life –she can finally reconnect with her childhood friends, and can finally get out of the house, literally.

Story by Maryanne Waweru-Wanyama.

We find Beatrice seated on her bed, sipping a hot mug of brown porridge. But seeing her mother comfortably sip on the porridge is something that her 40 year-old daughter Tabitha cannot stop marveling about. The strangeness of it all is that ever since she was born, Tabitha has always known her mother to avoid all liquids, especially when away from her house. As she sits at the feet of her mother’s hospital bed, she stares at her mother as she takes in each sip and tells her: “Mom, you truly are a different person now.” Her mother, over the last few days, has been wearing a permanent smile on her face and carrying around a rejuvenated personality. Tabitha is amazed at her mother’s new-found confidence. And it can all be credited to one surgery.

40 years ago, Beatrice gave birth to her lastborn child Tabitha in what she describes as a ‘difficult birth’ caused by a labor that went on for days on end. For the third time, Beatrice was giving birth at home, with the assistance of a neighbour. She had never been to an antenatal clinic and had never been attended to by a skilled birth attendant. As she carried her third pregnancy with Tabitha, she did not see the need to deliver in a hospital because all her previous pregnancies and births had been smooth with no complications whatsoever.

Beatrice Wambui who had suffered a fistula for four decades.

But the third birth did not go as expected. The labor was too long and she was in too much pain. Thankfully though, her bouncing baby girl –Tabitha, arrived happy and healthy. But not long after, the new mother notice that something was amiss. As she drank mugs of porridge and soup –liquids that new mothers are encouraged to consume, she noticed that she was unable to control her urine.

“I would wake up from my seat and find that my clothes were wet, and so was the area where I had been seated. I was perturbed because I knew it was related to the birth, but yet it was unfamiliar since I had not experienced anything like that in my previous births,” she told us.

But she did not think of seeking medical help. The then 41 year-old had been widowed during her pregnancy with Tabitha and with three children to look after, the peasant farmer’s thoughts were preoccupied with fending for them, and not making long trips to the hospital just because of a ‘leaking urine issue’ which she knew would not last for long.

But days, weeks and months went by, with her urine flowing unstopped. She had to make some adjustments in her life.

“I stopped taking liquids so that I could urinate on myself less frequently. I would only take liquids when I was in the comfort of my own home. Since I never used to put on anything other than a panty and the dress I was wearing, many times the urine would slip through, trickle down to my legs and onto the floor, leaving little pools of wetness. I therefore avoided places where people were gathered. I stopped attending functions such as family gatherings and weddings since I was too embarrassed and worse, I carried with me a foul smell,” she remembers.

And that was a life she lived for 41 years, until July 2015.

Through a relative of hers, Beatrice came to know about a free fistula camp organized by the Flying Doctors Society of East Africa and the Freedom from Fistula Foundation. Accompanied by her daughter Tabitha, she made her way to Kenyatta National Hospital for the screening process and was delighted when she was informed that she would undergo a surgical procedure which would see her no longer leak urine.

When we met the beaming ‘cucu’ on that Friday evening, she had just undergone a successful surgery performed by a team of specialist doctors, who repaired her vesico-vaginal fistula (VVF). Beatrice was one of the 12 women from Kiambu country whose fistulas were successfully repaired. A total of 208 women underwent repair surgeries during the 2015 free fistula medical camp at Kenyatta National Hospital.

As she sat up to receive us, Beatrice was upbeat, displayed in her delight as she happily sipped on her hot mug of porridge –the countless one that day –with no inhibitions whatsoever. Watching her mother do so touched a soft spot in Tabitha’s heart, one that made her struggle to conceal her tears. Indeed, her mother had indeed gotten a new lease of life.

As the mother and daughter pair bade us goodbye, Beatrice informed us of her plans upon leaving the hospital.

“I am now looking forward to attending family gatherings and all those other functions that I have missed out on for the last 41 years. Thank you very much to the team of doctor and all those other donors who have helped me start my life afresh!”

Story by Maryanne Waweru-Wanyama.