The following story was narrated to TWSC Contributor Celine Njoki:
My name is Flora Nkatha Mugao. I was born and raised in Tharaka, Kenya. I attended Gekondi Primary School. I was a bubbly kid and had a normal childhood in a closely-knit family. My parents were both teachers. My mum taught in a primary school while my dad taught in a high school. We had neither too much nor too little. One thing that my mother always said whenever we lacked food, shoes, etc. was that God will always provide. And sure enough, He did provide.
As far as I can remember, my journey with emotional abuse and emotional and physical trauma goes back to the age of three. There were times when my grandmother would insult us. She was unhappy about my mother’s tribal background (Kamba). For some time, my mum went back to complete her studies at Narok Teachers College during the school holidays. During that time, my dad would take care of me and my two older sisters.
One morning my dad wasn’t around, so my sisters and I were left with my grandmother. She was supposed to give us food but she didn’t, so my oldest sister, Gacheri, cooked raw pawpaws for us. When my grandmother found her boiling them she said, “Just get out of here you caterpillars. What are you doing in my compound?”
That is the first time I remember going through emotional turmoil. She was someone who was supposed to protect us. Having been taught by mum and dad how we were supposed to love and protect each other, we expected that from the rest of the family. We were supposed to be protecting each other, but here we were unprotected. We felt like she didn’t love us being there.
Another thing I recall is that when we were young, my grandmother used to collect my dad’s salary. One time my dad had to put his foot down and told her that since he was now married with children, he could no longer provide for his mother in the same way. If she needed help, she would have to ask my mum or dad directly. That only caused more problems because my grandmother was controlling and felt that my mum had come to ruin the family. And because my dad was no longer taking orders from her, she felt justified to do anything to her.
When I was five, we were driving home from my aunt’s wedding. At some point, we were going downhill and the driver tried to apply the brakes but they weren’t working; someone had tampered with the brakes at the wedding. The car rolled five times. That was the first time I felt like my life was hanging in the balance. I thought I was going to lose my entire family. But by God’s grace we managed to get out of the wreckage. My entire leg and my buttocks were burnt and my right hand was deeply cut. They had to insert an artificial metal rejoinder to connect my arm and my shoulder, and it’s still there. I have several scars from that accident.
Unfortunately, I lost my sister Patricia. That loss still haunts me. I think I have not let it go because I didn’t get the opportunity to mourn her with the rest of the family. I was in a coma during her burial, recovering from my injuries from the accident. I stayed in a coma for three months and then remained hospitalized for an additional six months.
As if that was not enough, in late November 2007, at the age of 17, I had another traumatic experience. I witnessed my uncle murder my father in the presence of his parents, other brothers, cousins. No one tried to stop him. My father died begging not to be killed as he was hacked. To date, no one has been brought to book. I was told that at the age of 17, I wasn’t a competent witness, I couldn’t be put into protective custody, they didn’t know what they were dealing with, the files had gotten lost and they had to redo the case again, there was no tangible evidence after the second application, among other things.
After my father’s burial on 12 December 2007, we didn’t have the opportunity to celebrate Christmas or the New Year. We were kicked out of our home on 20 January, 2008. My mother was insulted using tribal taunts. That’s when we realized that it wasn’t that my dad wasn’t a bad son; it was because my mum was not from their tribe. My dad was murdered because he wouldn’t listen to his controlling mother. He wouldn’t bow to his parents’ pressure and leave us; he chose to stick with us.
After about three or four years, my uncle who hacked my dad into pieces was arrested. After being in prison for around three or four years, he was released. About three months after his release, he killed my mum.
Before he killed my mum, I had gone to Nairobi University. Even then they couldn’t let me settle down because I was a key witness to my dad’s murder. When I witnessed the act, I screamed and they saw me and knew that I had seen everything. An uncle and aunt ran after me asking, “Kameenda wapi hako kamtu?” (Where has that small person gone?)
Fortunately, I didn’t run home; instead I hid under the bed of my neighbour, a reverend. I heard them asking him where I’d gone and he told them that I had run past his house into a nearby farm so I was probably hiding there. If he had said that I was in his house, I wouldn’t be here today to share this story.
So when I went to Nairobi they kept on threatening me, saying that they knew where I was and would find me. I had gotten a USAID scholarship with USAID, which paid for my school fees, accommodation, etc. I also got a KSh 12,000 stipend (USD $120) every three months.
Unfortunately I couldn’t go to school like everybody else because I had to hide. I eventually looked for a well-populated area, like a slum, to live where nobody knew me and I couldn’t be traced. I had to learn the art of hiding myself amongst people and that’s how my personality changed.
Throughout primary and high school, it was hard to talk to me because I would hide or cry. I was more introverted; I wasn’t so outgoing. Because of these insecurities I had to camouflage who I really was and I was less talkative. This helped mask myself such that people wouldn’t know that I had so much going on. That somehow worked out very well for me because I got some pretty good jobs here and there. I also managed to hide myself for quite some time before my relatives found me. Then all over sudden, the cyber threats started again.
When I heard there was an opportunity for me to go to Nakuru, I ran away. Most people believed I came to Nakuru to work, but deep down I knew I had come to hide. Up to date, very few people know where I live. I don’t bring many visitors into my house or even interact much with people because I don’t know who’s going to sell me out. Even when I’m posting stuff online, most of the time, I have to post about things that have already happened. For example, if I have gone for a conference somewhere, I don’t post about it ahead of time because I don’t know who is going to spot me there and start following me. I don’t have the freedom that everybody has.
I started my organization because throughout my journey of trauma and healing and speaking about my issues, I didn’t get any psychological support, either as a child or as an adult. I remember that at some point, my sister and I would fight 90% of the time. I expected her to understand what I was going through since she likely got some psychology lessons through her dental surgery training. But then, I couldn’t blame her because I didn’t talk to her.
I couldn’t open up to anyone because I didn’t know who to trust. That’s why for me trust issues are still a problem. I’m still traumatized, still dealing with that pain and loss. Becoming a refugee in your own country has a way of changing how you look at things.
On several occasions, I’ve been accused of being too judgmental. I wouldn’t say I’m very judgmental. I would say that I read in between the lines a lot, and that comes with going through a traumatic experience that leaves you not knowing who is for you and who is not. You have to sieve what people are telling you and what they’re not telling you. So I have learnt to listen to what people are not telling me and 99% of the time, I can predict the end result of the person’s behavior. And if I don’t like that path, I’d rather not begin the journey. So when people say that I’m very judgmental, they don’t realize that it’s a tactic that has helped me survive all these years.
My trauma has also impacted my romantic relationships. Today, at the age of 30, I can’t say that I’ve dated someone seriously. The longest I have dated someone is three months and I saw him six times. Unfortunately, within two weeks I’m usually fed up with the person. I will have concluded the kind of person that you are, the kind of person I want in my life and whether you are trustworthy or not. If you lie to me once, then that’s the end of it all.
I started FROLICS of Hope Africa which is a registered organization dealing with the rescue and protection of children. We mostly deal with children from violent areas: family violence, tribal clashes, gun violence, gender-based violence, sexual violence, emotional trauma, kidnapping and all sorts of violence. We work towards the rehabilitation and protection of these children. If someone saw the pain that I was going through as a child, today I wouldn’t be dealing with the level of trauma that I’m dealing with.
We don’t want to have children who grow up broken, who murder or commit suicide. These things are not necessarily an indication that the child is bad. I’ve had to rescue a three-year-old child who had almost committed suicide. Imagine if at the age of three, you already feel unwanted. What happens by the time you reach 17 or 18? Often by the time they’re becoming adults, these children are entirely broken and feel they have nothing to live for.
Our organization seeks to restore that hope and give them a bright future. We are giving them that missing link, that line of hope, for them to know that there is a lot to live for. And at the end of the day, they will have a story to tell. Just like God has given me an opportunity to live for 30 years and tell my story, I want another child to grow up differently than I did. If someone gave me a lease of life, I ought to give it to someone else too. One wouldn’t want to have their children growing up feeling like they’re not important in society.
As of right now, the organization has rescued at least 19 children, more girls than boys. Our first pillar is to rescue, rehabilitate and protect children. Our second pillar is to empower women, teen mothers and girls. And our third pillar is to ensure that the children and women have access to proper health care. We conduct medical camps in violent-prone areas and ensure they can access trauma health care and psychosocial support from specialists and people within the medical docket. We also do arts and crafts and other community-based projects that ensure that women are fully empowered to take care of their families.
Many of the communities affected by violence are not headed by men but by women. Many of the men have been killed by the violence and the women have to bear the stigma of being widows. Imagine that happening at the age of 18 or 21. There are also cultural aspects of child marriage, teen pregnancy and female genital mutilation (FGM) that our organization deals with. We recently made headlines after breaking off a marriage involving a fourteen-year-old girl. We arrested the grandfather of this child because he had received KSh10,000 (USD $100) as down payment for her dowry.
Currently we are doing a lot of collaboration and calling on stakeholders to support our cause that will soon involve petitioning the government to review the Children Act, which doesn’t protect all children. For example, the current Children Act gives a one-year sentence for child negligence. There are children dying of malnutrition, kwashiorkor and other nutrition-deficiency diseases. There is a lot of child negligence going on. If someone gives birth and dumps the child, that negligence will not result in more than one year behind bars or three months in a cell and then they are given probation.
It is time we empower the judiciary, national police, intelligence services, children’s department, NGOs and community-based organizations to take children’s right seriously. If children’s cases are dealt with expeditiously, it will send a strong message to those who abuse children and the people around them. Police officers need to familiarize themselves with children’s rights so as to know what to charge offenders with. That is why I’m sending this message out; it’s time the government did something by coming out strongly in defense of it. We are coming out to defend the children and we will not relent. We are calling on every stakeholder within the government, NGOs, community-based organizations and even the private sector to come and join hands together. The best legacy one can leave is one of a child who was not traumatized.
