Mental Health and African Culture
I grew up in Kilifi, Kenya. A beautiful coastal town along Kilifi Creek. Sitting on the estuary of the Goshi River. Rich in its conservative Swahili culture. It is where mental health Is a topic shoved under the rug.
Few people, if none have managed to muster up the strength to talk about it. But that would be way out of our norms. Due to the constant fear of ruining their perceived perfect identity. He said to himself, how could I let them see my frailty?
Does that mean I might become an outcast from the only place I call home? Wait, those are just random thoughts of a poor man coming from my village. In my village. Dark magic, the evil eye, witchcraft, and ancestral curses cause mental health illnesses. 08th January 2022 6 a.m.
The weekend kicked off with our routine mobile clinic services. I couldn’t hold back my excitement. It was going to be my first outreach as a qualified psychiatric nurse.
Coming from a background where mental health issues remain stigmatized and feared. I was optimistic about the future. I wanted to help those who had become invisible. And were suffering from this silent ailment. I once envisioned this day.
Back then while I was in college. At last, today was that day. I was going to claim back the voices lost in these shackles of mental health. We started our day at the government dispensary. Serving the local community. Within Ganze sub- county in Kilifi County.
The outreach will take place in Tsangalaweni. A small disconnected village at the remotest point in Kilifi County. It is 218 km from the main town. And a three-hour drive in the wilderness of the abandoned area. Most of the roads were bare and hard to reach.
In some areas, we had to complete our mission on foot to reach the villagers. You could see the joy from their faces as they saw us coming. It was as if they had seen rain in the desert. Children started running and shouting towards us in excitement. Saying in our local language '’madaktari wetu! Madaktari wetu!’’ In other words Our doctors! Our doctors.
Our hearts confounded by such a cheerful audience. We put on our doctor’s caps on and jumped straight into business. Thirty minutes later after setting up the venue and settling in. Masha, my colleague and I went further into the village. To identify households that had clients suffering from mental illnesses.
The village elders and the community health worker Sarah led the way. Sarah has been working for our health facility for over fifteen years. No one knew the community members more than her. You could read her worrisome face as we approached our first house.
It was a tiny mud thatched hut. There was one small window. Little to no light came through. It was dim and a frosty smell dominated the room. Behold, There she was our first client Kadzo. My heart broke into millions of pieces as she came into sight.
She was skinny and of average height. With a pale rough skin complexion, You could tell she had not had a bath. Her hair was short and shaggy. I could hear her mummer some words, but I couldn’t quite make sense of them. She had a slow gait and gave us a blunt facial expression as we approached.
“Habari Kadzo?’' In other words' hello! But she gave me a puzzled look. I took this chance to scan the environment to ensure our safety came first. That is when I noticed that Kadzo was unable to move. On performing a quick physical check. I saw both legs restrained using heavy steel chains locked with two large padlocks.
It was obvious this limited her range of movement. She remained in seclusion for over five years. No one in the family wanted her close. Well, except her eighty one-year-old grandmother. She would visit her at times and assist her with her grooming and feeding.
But due to her fragile age she was not able to do that daily. This meant there were days Kadzo would stay hungry surrounded by filth. By this time I could feel the harsh reality slapping my face. I wanted to cry my heart out, but I couldn’t. So there I stood with this feeling.
An uneasy feeling in my mind and the void of my stomach. No, this can’t be it, this is inhumane treatment I said to myself. Watching in disbelieve I wanted to leave. I wanted to go to a silent dark place. But my feet betrayed me. Gripped with the painful reality of the deep-rooted stigma.
Although on the bright side, I saw hope for Kadzo. A redeemed Kadzo. We examined her and started her on neuroleptics. Today, I saved a life. One out of the many silent cases that don’t surface to the top. Kadzos mental illness journey is a tale for another day.
But one thing I learnt as I left Kadzos' home. When you have a dream, you have got to grab it and not once let go. Let’s break the stigma around mental health issues.
