Sarah (Not her real name) still remembers the silence of that night in 1999. She was only twenty, expectant with her first child, when the labour pains began. In those moments, she should have been surrounded by nurses and midwives, guided through the fear and fragility of childbirth. Instead, a healthcare workers’ strike resulted in her being turned away from hospital.

She was forced to return home, her body wracked by waves of pain, to endure childbirth by herself. For nine long hours she laboured alone until, at last, a friend arrived to assist. But by then, complications had already set in. Her baby was in breech position and already descending. The long and obstructed labour left Sarah with obstetric fistula and her child fighting for life. In the days and weeks that followed, her newborn needed all of her attention, and so she ignored the faint smell of urine that never seemed to leave her. All that mattered was keeping her child alive.

Then came the cruelest blow. Just a few months later, the baby she had fought so hard for passed away, leaving Sarah hollow with grief. It was only in the stillness of her mourning that she realised her own body was betraying her in ways she could not understand. The leaking persisted, indifferent to her despair. In time, it became clear that she had lost her daughter and her health.

The years that followed were marked by struggle. Sarah gave birth to three more children, yet the condition lingered, and every attempt to seek help seemed to end in disappointment. Urologists prescribed medications while physiotherapists recommended exercises, and for a while she believed she might find relief, but nothing worked. Each failure pushed her deeper into isolation. She became skilled at hiding, carrying spare underwear wherever she went, slipping away from gatherings, reading the judgment in people’s stares when accidents betrayed her. Even her husband, unable to comprehend the depth of her suffering, left her to bear the weight alone.

In 2019, hope arrived as a text message: a free fistula camp organised by Flying Doctors Society of Africa in partnership with MPESA Foundation. Her heart leapt at the chance for healing, but due to her busy schedule at the time, she arrived at the hospital a day after the camp had ended. Sarah was devastated. For years afterward, she replayed that moment over and over, blaming herself for missing her chance.

By 2025, her ordeal had worsened. What had once been urine incontinence had now grown to include fecal incontinence, robbing her of the little dignity she had managed to hold onto. She became a prisoner within her own home, bound not by walls but by shame.

Then, in August, another message came.

Nyeri County Referral Hospital would be hosting a new fistula camp, and Sarah, determined not to let hope slip past her again, was among the first in line. Trembling with equal measures of fear and anticipation, she listened as the doctors correctly diagnosed her for the first time in her life, and offered her the reparative surgery she needed.

After twenty-six years, she walked away from the hospital, free at last. Today, as she rebuilds her confidence, Sarah’s story carries more than personal healing. It is a reminder that no woman is beyond hope, no matter how many years she has endured, and that the work of the Flying Doctors Society of Africa ensures women like her are not forgotten. Her life, once defined by loss, is now marked by possibility, and with every step she takes, she proves that dignity can be reclaimed.