In 2007, life felt full of promise for Mary Iminza. She and her husband were raising their first child in Nairobi, and with another baby on the way, she dreamed of building a happy family and pursuing her career as a shop keeper. Her first birth had gone smoothly, so of course she expected the same joy with her second. And for a moment, that’s exactly what she had when her bouncing, healthy second baby was placed in her arms. But the delivery had left Mary with a tear so severe that it caused obstetric fistula; hers was a form that led to incontinence of stool.

As time went by and with each bowel movement she had, the vibrant young woman who had once imagined juggling motherhood and work in the city began retreating into herself. Mary suffered postpartum depression, made worse by this condition. Unable to seek help, she isolated herself even more, even in her own marriage. Living with her husband in Nairobi meant risking exposure, so Mary distanced herself. She moved back to Busia with the children, keeping her husband at arm’s length with excuses whenever he wanted to visit.

She still went on to have three more children after developing the fistula, all delivered vaginally in hospital. Yet none of the health workers ever mentioned her condition. Their silence deepened her own. If no one raised concern, Mary thought, perhaps this was simply a hidden part of motherhood. And so, she endured in silence.

Her life soon became a careful performance. She avoided eating at people’s homes, skipped meals during gatherings, and even limited her food at home to avoid rushing to the toilet midway. She always had water to wash with, a fresh change of clothes in her bag, and excuses ready whenever food was offered.  In moments when her condition betrayed her, she blamed it on food and restricted her diet even further. To others, Mary became known for her spotless cleanliness. Nobody could see the shame that drove her choices.

As years stretched on, her world shrank. Jobs were out of the question and friendships had faded. Even when she finally recognized the words “obstetric fistula” through a television program, help felt far beyond her reach. She had no resources for surgery, neither did she have the courage to tell her family.

In July 2025, everything changed. A text message lit up her phone, announcing a free fistula camp at Busia County Referral Hospital organized by the Flying Doctors Society of Africa in partnership with MPESA Foundation. For Mary, it was as though a door had been thrown open after nearly two decades of darkness. She was at the hospital before dawn, first in line, one of the earliest women to undergo the reparative surgery she had prayed for but never dared to believe possible.

Now, healed after eighteen long years, Mary is piecing back together the life fistula tried to take from her. She has begun sharing her anguish with her husband, no longer carrying the weight alone, and she looks forward to living not in fear but in freedom.

And because of FDSA’s intervention, Mary’s story does not end with her. Restoring her dignity has restored her future and her hope, and through her healing, she now carries the power to remind other women that they, too, can reclaim their lives.