How Kenyan children suffer in hopelessness

Three decades since inception of the international Day of African Children and the African child is still tied down by the yoke of disease, abuse, orphan hood and hopelessness.

Still, the African child is unrelenting in pursuit for light in place of darkness, hope in place of hopelessness and well-being in place of poverty.

In Kenya, the ills of child labor, trafficking and abuse are still rampant. As the continent celebrates the day today under the theme: "Leave No Child Behind for Africa's Development", Saturday Standard explores factors that hold Kenyan children behind.

“I am 13, and head of my family…”

Every morning, John Omondi, 13, wakes up to the portrait of his late mother hanging on the wall of his grandmother’s house. He believes she watches over them.

He has been living with his sister Zilpa Adhiambo, 10, for the past two years after their grandmother died.

“I am used to this life. Nobody offered to take us when our grandmother died,” he says.

Omondi is in Form One at Dago Kokore Secondary School in Kisumu. Apart from being a student, he considers himself a parent. 

In the evening, he clutches his school bag while picking firewood on his way home. At home, he takes off school uniforms and picks a bucket to fetch water from the well.

He makes charcoal for money, or gets donation for well-wishers who are often sympathetic of the many responsibilities on his shoulders.  

The recent rains have frustrated them. Their house is cold. Not even the fire in their sooty kitchen provides warmth.

He chokes when he narrates about life after his grandmother died.

One relative offered to adopt the youngest who was about four years old. She was left with her younger sister Adhiambo who was eight. 

“Nobody offered to take us,” he says, his gaze fixed on the ground.

Omondi explains that he passed KCPE exams and some of his relatives raised his school fees, but the future is bleak, as none has committed to paying till end of his secondary education.

He admits he has had to knock on many doors to beg for money to buy items for his sister.

He cannot count the number of days they have gone without a food.

He says since their grandmother died, they have never gone to a health facility when they are sick.

Charles Oyange, a teacher at Bar Ogwal primary school where his sister goes to school says she had potential, but their home situation interferes with her performance.

Their close neighbour Sabina Adhiambo says she is worried about the children.

 “He had an A- in his first term exams and later dropped to a B+ in his second term exams. It is worrying,” she says.

Omondi attributes the drop to lack of good lighting in the house. They burn Kerosene and firewood to provide light for revision and homework assignments.

“During rains we cannot study. We have to draw excess water flowing in the house,” he says.

He adds that his teachers are not aware of his struggles, so he has not been placed in any support group

“Nobody talks about lost and abused children…”

The plastered walls at Agatsa Itambo's home in Shinyalu, Kakamega County have crumbled away leaving gaping patches.

"I have no energy. I lost interest in everything," she says, and immediately starts talking about her granddaughter Irene Lubuye who disappeared two years ago. She was 13 years old.

Circumstances of her disappearance are scrawled on the many documents delicately wrapped in clear polythene –documents Agatsa hopes will lead to the arrest of those who took Irene.

Two years ago, she got a call from Likhobero special school where Irene who had mild cerebral palsy studied.

She was astounded. She had seen Irene off in the morning, and watched as she clung to her school bag and ran to school. A team that volunteered to help says they went beyond Kakamega forest but found nothing.

Three days later, a confused Irene appeared. Her gait was unstable, legs wide apart, and her eye lashes wet with tears.

"We could not believe the stench coming from her body. She was a mess”, says Aggrey Majimbo, a human rights activist in Kakamega who was part of the search team.

Hospital reports revealed she had been raped and her private parts torn.

Agatsa says her granddaughter became so scared; a leaf falling on her shoulder would startle her and send her into rage.

She implored her to reveal the culprit, and was surprised when Irene took her to the doorstep of their neighbour and pointed a man in his sixties.

They filed a report with police. A few days later, Irene disappeared again, and has never been found.

Her unsolved case forms part of the rising number of children who disappear in Kenya without a trace.

Shinyalu DCIO Vincent Obae says they are aware of the matter, and are investigating.

The wait, Agatsa says, has been too long. She says she is tormented by thoughts of what could have happened to her grandchild.

"I keep wondering if she was killed, or taken to another country," she says.

Kakamega governor Wycliffe Oparanya admits his county has many cases of lost and abandoned children due to lack of a strong social department.

"The national government needs to sit with counties to discuss budget allocations and what they can do to improve child services," he says.

He blames the luhya culture where fathers get full custody of children in case of separation.

"The children end up feeling isolated, because in most cases, they are raised by step mothers who can be hostile to them," he says.

A survey by National Crime Research Centre in 2015 indicates that most of victims of domestic trafficking come from rural areas and those trafficked out of the country are from urban areas. Sexual exploitation, labour and extraction of body parts are the main reasons for trafficking. Busia, Moyale, and Kakamega are listed as high risk areas for trafficking.

As the country commemorates Day of the African child, Agatsa celebrates Irene’s memory, and many children who were taken from their homes never to be seen.

“I am pregnant and I live in the streets…”

A group of street children are sniffing glue at the Kenya Railway Corporation’s open field in Kitale town. At the adjacent makeshift shop, Esther Nafula, 15, sits idly and sneers at the group of touts teasing her.

Nafula joined the street life in 2013 after her mother died. She claims abuse from her father pushed her away from home.

“The beating was too much too much, so I decided to leave,” she says.

Despite frequent crackdowns from law enforcement officials, they refuse to leave the streets.

Street life, she says, is brutal. Three months ago she was walking home in Folkland village, a notorious chang’aa brewing area, when a boda boda rider lured her into sex.

“He offered me a lift. Along the way he stopped and asked for sex and then gave me sh. 50,” she says. She conceived.

She says she has no plan, but says would rather take the hard life at the streets than go home to her father.

Nafula’s friend Cherop says street life is worse for women. Lack of sanitary towels, police brutality, and drug abuse makes every day a chore.

 “We sell these used boxes and scrap mental which we recover from people’s rubbish to buy a little food and glue,” says Cherop.

She then sniffs heavily on a small bottle concealed under her sweater.

Although the street children receive free healthcare at the local county hospital, those vulnerable families are not receiving adequate support and attention.

 ‘Several of my friends have died of sickness. We don’t access HIV services,” says Cherop.

According to the Trans-Nzoia County Children officer Mr Astone Maungu there are over 1000 street children in Kitale town.

Child labour still rampant in Mau Narok

Hundreds of children hover around many lorries parked at Mau Narok center in Nakuru county.  It is Tuesday, but children as young as five scramble to get space inside the vehicles where they will be driven for several kilometres to work in farms.

 "Employers prefer children because they are workaholic," says Isaac Kamau, a driver of one of the vehicles.

Child labour at the area contributes to increased cases of school drop outs, poor performance of candidates in national examinations and early marriages.

At 15, Brian Mureithi (not his real name) is in class eight, but spends most days in farms.

"I was sent from school to collect Sh400. My single mother cannot raise it," he says. He decided to step out and earn it.  He says children are paid Sh5 per kilogram of harvested peas. In a day, he harvests about 50 kilograms, and takes home sh.250.

Some of the children's hands are covered in blisters from the constant plucking.

"I haven't eaten. I woke up early to get a lift at the center, but they left me…," said one boy who pleaded with us to give him a lift.

Some sleep by the road for days when they do not get fare to return home.  There have been reports of physical abuse and non-payment after work from farm owners.

When there is no work, the children collect 'matigio' (substandard produce left behind during harvesting) that they later sell at cheaper prices.

Gwataniro primary school head teacher Kihara Mwangi said there is high school dropout, absenteeism and early pregnancy in the area due to child labour.

County education director Isaac Atebe said

Head teachers have been instructed to monitor attendance of learners, and write a report to the sub county director of education to curb the menace.

The sub county education director is expected to notify chiefs and other administrators who would then approach the farms.

Nakuru County Commissioner Joshua Nkanatha said they will be arresting anyone using children to provide labour.

Story by Mactilda Mbenywe, Mercy Kahenda, Osinde Obare and Mercy Adhiambo