MY STORY: I know where my shoe pinches, still I walk on

For the first seven years of my life, I was a healthy, happy-go-lucky child. Then one day, I accidentally slipped and fell on a river bank while fetching water near my home in Machakos and the course of my life was altered forever.

When you grow up in the village playing outdoors, it was normal to get skinned knees. Thinking that this was the usual injury that would go away on its own, it did not occur to me to report that I had fallen and hurt myself. The effects of the fall also took some time to show. At first, there was just a mild pain in my hip. Then I began limping. This was when my parents noticed and took me to a nearby hospital where I was examined and given pain killers. Once home, however, the pain continued growing. Each time I complained, I would be taken to another hospital and given yet another dose of painkillers.

I have noticed that people treat me differently. My peers now want to associate with me. I do not get it. Back then, when I needed a shoulder the most, my friends were few and far between. Now I have plenty to choose from.

Then in 2010, after two years of being in and out of hospital as an outpatient, I was finally diagnosed as having a growth in my knee and the doctor prescribed crutches. Yes. You read that right. This was a turning point in my life. I was barely 13.

CONSTANT LEG PAIN

Before then, I had been just a child with a constant pain in the leg. With the prescription, I became a physically disabled child.  Yet, I had not been born with a disability. Nothing I had lived through so far had prepared me for this. Coming at an age when I felt like I needed to fit in with my peers, my self-esteem took a hit. Scratch that. It took a major blow. I remember lying in bed, crying and saying over and over again that I wanted to die. Thankfully, my mother would not let me give up. She made sure that I learnt to use the crutches and that I remained in school.

The following year, I was admitted to the Joytown School for the physically disabled in Thika for my secondary education. Here, for the first time, I felt like I belonged. No one was pointing fingers or stopping to stare at me. I made friends. I was surrounded by people with even bigger struggles than I had and this motivated me to keep going.

The pain was still there but I now had a renewed purpose. I was going to work hard at school and pursue journalism so that I could become a voice for the disabled in the remote areas of the country, the ones who did not have a supportive family or parents who were not as determined as mine were.

SOMETHING ELSE HAPPENED

Then in December 2014, after four years of using crutches, something else happened. A doctor at St. Mary’s hospital in Nakuru discovered that I had gotten a wrong diagnosis. I did not have a growth in my knee. What I had been ailing from for seven years was a dislocation of my hip joint. I was operated on that same month and once again set off on my journey to recovery.

This part of the journey was taxing. A few weeks after the surgery, it was discovered that my right was actually shorter than the left. This meant that I had to use a raised shoe. I had new problem on my hands. Or foot if you will. Once again, I started attracting even more stares. This was around the time that I was joining college. The practical part of my journalism classes became a challenge. I could not hold a camera standing or be on my feet for prolonged periods.

Outside the lecture halls, making friends became yet another challenge. Rather than try too hard, I choose to spend more time in my room either reading or watching movies. When I went out, it was to the National Council for People with Disability where I played sitting volleyball. Even when I was not playing, I would still go. It was a chance to interact with people like me, people who understood my struggles.

ACCEPTING MYSELF

Two years later, in 2016, my leg had stretched enough for me to give up the raised shoe and the crutches. It was as if I had gotten another chance to live my life without a disability. Looking back, I think my biggest problem was not the stigma I felt from those around me. My biggest problem was accepting myself. I do not think that I ever accepted my disability.

My desire to speak for the voiceless is still as deep as it was when I was student at Joytown. I am now a journalism student at Mahanaim Educational College. I still want to tell stories about the vulnerable in the society.

Twice a week, I have physiotherapy at the National Council for People with Disability. In the past year that I have been without my limp and without the crutches, I have noticed that people treat me differently. My peers now want to associate with me. I do not get it. Back then, when I needed a shoulder the most, my friends were few and far between. Now I have plenty to choose from.