I was born a curse...

I made a mistake. In the last story I promised you that the next one would be a story by Philip that would reflect the many new improvements at Mathari after its semi-autonomy status. In the last article I stuffed all my unsettling disillusionments so as not to be tempted to infuse it into other people’s stories. My people at Mathari though I will continue to challenge you, I appreciate you deeply. There are happy stories of Mathari and I will tell them. When this fine young Luo man gave me a peep of his story, the letters danced with intrigue, eloquence and fascination. His words enticed, mesmerized and bewitched their charm to the pen of my soul and there was no going back. Never.

This mind decided it will not betray this story with another. I have pursued him for... One. Two. Three. Four months… and now I get to celebrate him as my shujaa this year. Next time though, when you see a month go by without a story, please inbox me and say... ‘Charity, it is never that serious. Be flexible. Another story in the meantime.’ You may just save my mind & heart from months of throbbing heartache & nail biting turmoil. So ladies & gentlemen, all protocols observed, this here is a fresh insight story of our truly exciting present. Drumrolls... Please welcome our new minji minji… bale mpya… mali safi stoooory!

- THE BEGINNING -

‘I was born a curse by being born a twin. In the Luo culture then, twins were considered a bad omen and thrown in the forest. So my mother came to Nairobi to give birth. After I was born as a surviving twin, she got postpartum depression. She hated me openly. She did not try to hide that she didn’t want me. My childhood was dark. It didn’t seem to matter that I always one of the 4 top students in my class. I didn't read yet I passed exams. Though I was a bright child, I was considered a slow learner.

When I was older I would skive classes to watch music gigs. My dad was rarely home. He was physically present, emotionally absent. My brothers were always in boarding school. I felt desperately lonely for a very long time. In their absence our nanny took advantage of me. She abused me sexually every day for three years at our home in Mbotela Estate, Jogoo Road. My only solace was Ojija, my invisible friend created by my mind who I spoke to often.

My father, then a senior policeman was transferred to Busia so I changed schools. Soon I was bullied as the spoilt, know it all foreigner from Nairobi. So I became a rogue student. I was punished and suspended from school often. The bullying also led to alcohol abuse which I used to self-medicate my brain. It always seemed to be a running, restless subaru on overdrive. I was always thinking many things, all the time. I spent a lot of time in hospital for different illnesses which my family assumed were attention seeking. Eventually I dropped out of school in form 2. My mum told me that we cannot have 2 illiterates in the family, the first being herself.

So I finished school to please her, got a D+ and came to Nairobi to hustle. I lived in Kibera and did many odd jobs including mjengo, lorry loader and makanga. Later, my friend introduced me to intern in a magazine in based in Uganda while living in Umoja. I loved it so much that I taught myself how to publish a magazine and understand the media ecosystem. By 25 I had a vibrant magazine called ‘Time Out’. It was about sports & lifestyle with human touchpoints. As it grew, I moved from Umoja to Donholm then to Westlands. I went home, proud to show my father the magazine and to tell him that I had gotten a job in South Africa. I imagined how he proud he would be of me…finally!

However, I found him in hospital in a coma. I spoke to him every day hoping he could hear me. I told him about my secret struggles and everything in between as I sat with him and cleaned him every day. That was the very first time I bonded with my father. When he woke up, he said he had heard me and was very proud of me. He told me I was gifted and I should tell people about my gift. That I would realise my potential at the age of 45. He told me that in music I would find purpose, peace and my calling. That my gift is a heavy burden, so I need a very strong woman and that the first woman I would love would carry that burden. He said that regardless of my progress, I should go back to school. Then he died in my arms.

Though I am yet to go back to school, everything he prophesied has come to pass. My sister died 3 months after him. Like me, she had hated school. She was considered rebellious and got pregnant while in school. Yet she went on to become a brilliant chef, fashion designer and tailor. She was an exceptional singer, dancer and model who won many awards in her hey days. I feel that in life she had been as misunderstood as I have been. After their deaths I struggled with alcoholism for a year and lost everything I had. I was homeless, living on the streets, dingy brothels, showering in public toilets for a year. Then my friend hosted me in his couch, where I met my wife. She accepted me as I was and gave me a lifeline.

Gina Din employed me with no papers and I interned with her for six months. She changed my life. She believed in me and gave me a space to incubate my ideas then recommended me to the Kenya Red Cross. I started as an intern and grew to become the Head of Digital. This meant I was regularly at crisis scenes covering disasters like the Dusit & Westgate terror attacks. Like many people living with mental health challenges, I am an empath. I easily connect with people and read their emotions. I feel their pain. Deeply. I was diagnosed with severe post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) following the Westgate attack. Since then I have been on treatment, though some of the flashbacks affect me to this day. I went on to do communications for several government ministries, agencies, civil society, private sector and the United Nations but stopped at some point.

When Covid came it reminded me my father’s words to pursue my gifting in Communications. I led the Covid Digital Task Force that designed and implemented the Ministry of Health Covid Communications. The feedback was tremendously positive. It required creating well thought out responses on short notice and I got burnt out fast. I also got first hand exposure to the physical and mental health challenges of Covid health workers. Deaths of colleagues I worked with closely hit me hard. Covid outreach left me very traumatised. It brought back the PTSD triggers from the terror attacks. A doctor who was a close friend and mentor died. I couldn't attend the funeral due to lockdown. I went into an episode of excessive energy and activities until I collapsed after 4 days.

I was admitted at a private hospital and did therapy where I started understanding myself. That I would be over-productive for one week, then be totally burnt out the next, due to ADHD and Dyslexia. While people see ADHD only as attention deficit, I am excessively attentive to details of my environment but loose the subject matter totally when it is not of interest to me. I need visual imagery and auditory stimulation to be attentive. I hate paperwork and figures. Dyslexia is a learning and reading impairment in which we process words in images. Therapy helped me understand my conditions which make me highly productive, then highly burnt out. It helped me understand myself and find various perspectives to life. I think the best gift anyone can give themselves is therapy.

After being discharged I took a break and went to the US to stay with family and friends for 6 months. In the US I was re-diagnosed with PTSD, Dyslexia & ADHD. I told my family who struggled to accept that I had these conditions because they see me as extremely smart. They assumed I was just bright but lazy and do not pick up my phone. They told me to toughen up like other men. ‘Nikae ngumu kama mwanaume'. One day I was driving a Subaru after a family argument that really triggered me. I started over speeding. I literally aimed to crash into a lorry and die. Then I felt the need to be strong for my children. I drove to Mathari and told them I was suicidal.

I had been to Mathari before as a consultant for the Ministry of Health and the Nursing Council. I had interviewed nurses & done various activities with staff and also brought people in crisis from social media. So I drove to the familiar admin block and the Head of Nursing helped me get admission and called my wife to pick the car. I paid 200 bob for registration and 50 bob to see a doctor. I went through many long queues for registration, clinic and cashiers. I was reviewed by the doctor in the presence of nursing students. After review, I was admitted to Ward 9. My phone was taken and I was given a patient uniform.

On day one I was very drowsy and sat alone. On day 2 though drowsy I started talking to other patients. I was so hungry that I thoroughly enjoyed the food. My fellow patients said I didn't look mad. People do not know how very friendly the staff at Mathari are. They taught me a lot about my illness, including a psychologist who explained that having dyslexia & ADHD, I constantly need validation and acknowledgement. That having done many things for Kenya without receiving gratitude, acknowledgement, feedback or compensation had affected me.

I have a big online profile and have worked with big brands and influencers. However, I have been constantly financially broke because they manipulated and took advantage of my empathy and goodwill. As a Digital Humanitarian I have received dozens of calls of people in crisis including rape, GBV, illness, missing persons, drug addiction, road and fire accidents etc. I always have people asking for help without resources to help them. At Mathari I was extremely surprised that the doctors & nurses recognized my brand and skills. So they were surprised that I was neither acknowledged or supported. They also identified the stereotypes and wrong assumptions by my family as the triggers for suicidal ideation.

At Mathari I learned about other illnesses like schizophrenia and substance use conditions that other patients had. It was interesting to realise that there were many civil servant teachers and engineers who complained about heavy workload, work burnout and low pay in government. There were also many traumatised journalists. In previous years I had brought many psychiatric patients in crisis reaching out online. Yet I was still surprised that ‘Mathari’ people are not all dirty & poor.

Most had very high IQ and shared that they had been triggered by family members. Our routine involved showering, walking around, chatting, doctor reviews, meals and therapy. We could not go out to the field during Covid. The nursing students regularly encouraged us. I now understand why they take our phones from us. It is so that we can learn self-discipline through routine, bond with other patients, focus on our recovery, avoid and address the triggers that brought us there. The psychotherapists and nurses talk to us, affirm us and compliment us when they see progress like showering or smiling and they say ‘good job’.

My ward had very violent patients. I actually understood why guys are locked in seclusion to help protect other patients, manage security and to reduce fighting. I also realised politely befriending and talking to patients helped to calm them down. *Njuguna a procurement student was non-violent and used to smear feaces on himself especially when he was bullied for nudity. I would constantly talk to him, affirm him as intelligent and listen to him. As a result, he started dressing up, started talking and introduced me to his mother. In comparison to the private hospital, I saw many severe cases in Mathari. I see mental health in a very different way than I did there. The challenges are very different.

This severity helped me to see that I am better off in many ways. When in crisis again I will choose Mathari. So when I was discharged, I posted on social media. I wanted people to know that Mathari is one of the best facilities in Kenya. That on admission, some people are very violent but improve after a few days. That family caregivers need to be enlightened on mental health issues. How to prevent mental illness and the need to treat it early. By understanding signs and symptoms & benefits of early intervention. I was diagnosed at 45 and by that time the illness was more serious and harder to treat. I believe if I was diagnosed earlier, I would have thrived better in all the facets of my life.

I think NHIF needs to provide more awareness that they cover most bills on inpatient. Mathari should also to work with the community to raise awareness on the psychiatric and other services they offer. We need to encourage and appreciate the doctors, psychologists, nurses and support staff for the tough job they do especially in public hospitals. After diagnosis I learnt of many iconic leaders like Abraham Lincoln, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Albert Einstein and Richard Branson who thrived despite living with these and similar conditions. Where are our African examples?

We need to hear from Kenyan icons & champions. We need to de-stigmatise Mathari by sharing positive lived experiences. Most mental health advocacy in Kenya focuses on a scientific angle. Current advocacy is an echo-chamber with the same people and organisations talking to each other online. Advocacy is pushed without authenticity by people who seem to know nothing about the realities of mental illness. With a total disconnect from what is on the ground in public facilities. They are knee-jerk and repetitive reactions mostly done on global mental health days. We need real family stories with vulnerability focused on dignity. The kawaida mwananchi needs wholesome stories that they can relate to, especially the poor.'

- THE END -

I love Philip’s story. I see myself a lot in it. I totally agree with him that we need more positive stories of Mathari that the poor can relate to and in their platforms. We are both extremely proud of the work Mathari is doing. The wards now have very decent beddings and bathrooms. There are more seats available and shades where needed. We complained often about the long lines every Tuesday because it was the only clinic day. Now, every ward has its day for review, reducing the average time from 5 to 2 hours. The cleanliness is up 20 notches. So is the food. These are things many of us hoped and prayed for, without really believing it was possible so soon.

Please leave a comment below & share this story!

Professor Atwoli and the board, MedSup Dr. Nderi, Dr. Karanja Clinical Services, Mr. Mwove & Kihara leading the nursing team & every single staff at Mathari, you are doing us proud! We are because you are. This Mashujaa Day, we celebrate you. You are OUR SHUJAAS!