Nathaniel Hsieh: Kenya Fellow, USC

After about an hour and a half drive on dirt roads (a term generously used) that left many more than car sick, we finally arrived in Entasekera. This Maasai community, while small, contained a health center, Female Genital Mutilation CBO, secondary school, and special needs center. Considering the nature of my research I was extremely excited to visit the special needs center, but I don’t think anything could quite prepare me for what we were about to see and experience. As soon as we reached the center which was situated on top of a small hill, a lady approached us with a huge smile and outstretched hand. “Hi, my name is Franceska,” she began, and before long we were walking around the complex toward her office. A sign on one of the walls read “Namelok-Naretoi Home for Handicapped” and she explained that “Namelok-Naretoi” meant “sharing success”- in essence what the center aimed to do with all who were involved, disabled and “able” alike.  Once inside, Franceska began sharing her story which, we soon realized, was inextricably intertwined with the story of Namelok-Naretoi. Twenty years ago, Franceska embarked on a journey to simply gather data regarding people affected by disability in the surrounding yet remote Maasai villages. Being herself a Maasai, she knew that a large part of what she would be doing was finding disabled children who were often times hidden by communities who regarded them as cursed. After a few years of intensive field work and research, Franceska commenced her campaign to raise awareness in these communities, tearing down deep-seated communal beliefs that disability resulted from curses, witchcraft, and divine punishment and establishing a new paradigm that affirmed people with disabilities as made in the image of God and hence extremely valuable. This effort to simply effect a cultural paradigm shift lasted for four to five years before Franceska realized the need to do something with the handicapped children she had successfully brought out of hiding. Thus around fifteen years ago Franceska began Namelok-Naretoi as a rehabilitation center which purposed to provide disabled children with necessary surgeries and therapies at hospitals and centers she was familiar with because of her background as a nurse. The eventual goal was to provide these children with an education whether it be through integration into schools for “typical” children or placement into appropriate special schools. Though she admitted it was not easy (at times she even carried children on her back from their village to the center) the corkboard on the back wall of her office testified to the fact that her labor was not in vain. Pinned on literally every square inch of the board were pictures of success story after success story- one girl with sever hydrocephalus who now looks completely normal and is in secondary school, one boy with clubbed feet who can now walk, boys and girls with cleft lips, debilitating burns, cerebral palsy and more who are now living and learning to the fullest of their abilities. Over the years Franceska has helped over 150 of the neediest children in the region with the financial backing of a Dutch organization which aims to support children with disabilities worldwide. Due to the economic downturn a few years back however, this organization has not been able to give the Franceska the funds needed to keep the center running. “The problem is no longer cultural stigma- mothers are bringing their disabled children to my door- it is that I cannot take more children,” Franceska explained, “I can barely take care of the ones I already have.” Franceska runs a small hotel business using some of the rooms, refuses to take a salary for herself, takes abandoned children home with her during the holidays, and receives help from only two former students (both of whom have disabilities) in order to support the 14 children living at Namelok-Naretoi and the 16 plus who are being sponsored to attend school. Still, she smiles. I honestly don’t know how she does it and felt humbled to be in the presence of someone who has- without attention, appreciation, or praise- sacrificed so much. All I know is that on the drive back to Ilkerin, my focus was no longer on the bumpiness of the roads. I had been changed by this experience which has, for me, been the definitive moment of the trip thus far. Not only have I been given new direction for my research, I want to do all I can to “share success” with Namelok-Naretoi and enable Franceska to continue the remarkable work she has already begun.