Community Health Promoters from Rhonda Ward during a past Mental Health Sensitization Forum facilitated by MIDRIFT HURINET
"My name is Grace Ndinda, a PFA provider trained by MIDRIFT HURINET and an Elder in our local community.
My area of intervention is Rhonda Ward of Nakuru Town West Sub County.
One evening in December last year, my neighbor linked me to a pregnant lady.
She was 8 months pregnant and came from Limuru.
He informed me that she had met her in town and was looking for accommodation, but her story was distressing.
She had one thousand shillings, and apart from her pregnancy, she was accompanied by three other children.
I inquired from her on what had happened.
She informed me that her husband, who was battling alcoholism, had thrown her out and threatened to kill them (her and her kids) and burn the house.
From her narration, her world felt like it had collapsed around her as she stood on the edge of an unkind path, clutching her three children while the weight of another life grew inside her.
The words her husband had hurled at her still echoed in her mind, sharp and venomous, as if they were meant to tear apart not just her heart but her very being.
The biting night air smelled despair and loneliness, her stomach twisting with fear for the little ones tugging at her dress. She felt the sting of betrayal; the man she once trusted was now a stranger whose loyalty lay in the bottom of a bottle.
Anger simmered beneath the layers of sorrow and humiliation, but the overwhelming ache of uncertainty consumed her—where would they go? What would they eat? Yet, even in the depths of her pain, a flicker of resilience burned, fragile but alive.
For the sake of her children, she knew she had to rise above this storm, no matter how impossible it seemed.
She picked up her kids without their belongings, went straight to the stage, and boarded a vehicle to Nakuru with no one or place in mind once she arrived.
At this moment, she met the neighbor in town and inquired about possibly getting a house for one thousand shillings.
There are cheap, affordable houses in my neighborhood. I went to the landlord and explained the situation.
He gave them a house and told them not to pay until they were financially stable.
We were also able to mobilize food donations for them.
Tears blurred her vision as she sat on a plastic chair donated by another neighbor, her arms wrapped tightly around her three children, their small faces etched with fear and confusion.
The weight of her growing belly was a constant reminder of the life within her, yet it felt like hope was slipping away. Her heart swelled with disbelief and gratitude as she realized she wasn't invisible; someone saw her pain and cared enough to act.
She allowed herself to exhale for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the crushing loneliness lifting ever so slightly.
Amid her brokenness, these neighbors became beacons of light, igniting a flicker of hope that she and her children might still find safety, warmth, and a chance to rebuild.
I returned to the house and talked to the woman the following day.
She opened up about her situation and agreed to go through Psychological First Aid (PFA).
She also feared that her husband would trace her and harm her and her children.
After the intervention, she agreed to be linked to a Problem Management Plus (PM+) Helper, which I did.
I also went to the area Chief and reported the incident in case of any eventuality.
Through food donations and neighbors' regular visits, she could relax and look after her kids.
In January this year, I was called to the Chief's office.
The PM+ helper had found a shelter ready to accommodate the woman and her kids and wanted me to write that I had referred the case.
I rushed to the office and wrote the letter, and after a few hours, they were accommodated in the shelter.
As I watched the young mother step hesitantly into the shelter, her three children clutching at her sides, a wave of relief swept over me.
The sight of the warm, well-lit space filled me with a deep sense of accomplishment and quiet pride.
I could see the mother's shoulders, burdened by days of fear and uncertainty, finally begin to relax.
Once clouded with confusion, the children's eyes now sparkled with curiosity as they glimpsed the colorful playroom in the corner.
It was a moment that reminded me why I did what I did.
My chest tightened, not from sadness but from the overwhelming power of hope taking root where despair once reigned.
In that instant, I felt a connection to this family and to every person I had helped before and would help again.
The tears I wiped discreetly from my eyes were ones of joy and resolve, knowing that this shelter wasn't just a place for them to sleep; it symbolized safety, dignity, and the promise of a new beginning."
By:Jacob Karani