As the sun rises over Makongeni in Homa Bay Town, Jael Achieng’ reaches for her mobile phone, her lifeline to the world. Her fingers dance across the screen, checking for new messages from potential clients seeking her services.
For Jael, a 36-year-old domestic worker and mother of four, these text messages are more than just work requests – they’re a testament to her resilience and determination in the face of adversity.
Jael works as a ‘mama fua’, a term that rolls off the tongue with a sense of dignity and purpose. She washes clothes and cleans houses, a job she’s proudly done for over five years.
Her clients are a diverse group – busy professionals with long work hours, bachelors living alone, and families in need of an extra pair of hands. They all share one thing in common: a reliance on Jael’s skilful touch and unwavering work ethic.
“It’s not competitive, unlike other jobs where people scramble for limited opportunities,” Jael explains, her hands moving gracefully through the air in sign language. Her words, though silent, carry the weight of wisdom and contentment.
Jael’s journey is unique, shaped by the challenge of hearing impairment. Yet, where others might see limitation, she sees opportunity. Her mobile phone becomes a bridge, connecting her to a world of potential clients. Each text message is a beacon of hope, a chance to provide for her family and showcase her skills.
The streets of Homa Bay come alive as Jael makes her way to her first job of the day. The vibrant colours of the market stalls, the aroma of street food, and the hustle and bustle of town life create a sensory tapestry that Jael navigates with practiced ease. Her eyes, sharp and observant, take in every detail, compensating for the sounds she cannot hear.
At her client’s home, Jael’s hands tell her story. They move with purpose and precision, transforming piles of laundry into neatly folded stacks, breathing new life into dusty surfaces. Her work is a silent symphony, a dance of efficiency and care that speaks louder than words ever could.
Communication, however, can be a challenge.
“Some of them just point at things believing I will understand what they mean. I also try to explain to them whether what I am about to do is the right thing,” Jael signs. Her creativity shines through as she finds ways to bridge the gap – a mix of gestures, written notes, and intuitive understanding.
Yet, Jael’s story is not without its shadows. The vulnerability that comes with her inability to hear has, at times, made her a target for those with ill intentions.
“Their intention is to have sexual affairs with me. My silence does not mean I overlook what they do to me,” Jael reveals, her signs carrying a mix of frustration and determination.
But Jael is no victim. She’s a warrior, armed with courage and self-respect. “Even if I was in the middle of doing my duties at the house, I will leave everything half way and go away,” she gestures, describing her response to inappropriate behaviour. Her actions speak volumes about her strength and self-worth.
Her journey to love was as unique as her daily life. In a world where verbal communication often forms the foundation of romantic connections, she faced an uphill battle.
“Men who approached me struggled to communicate,” Jael recalls, her hands painting a picture of awkward encounters and misunderstandings. Each date became a silent movie, filled with exaggerated gestures and confused expressions.
Yet, Jael’s heart remained open, her spirit undeterred. She believed that true connection transcends words that love could be found in shared glances, gentle touches, and mutual understanding. Her patience and optimism were eventually rewarded when she met a man who spoke her silent language.
“I was eventually married to a hearing-impaired person,” Jael gestures, her eyes lighting up with the memory. In her husband, she found not just a partner, but a kindred spirit who understood her world of silence. Together, they built a home where love needs no voice, where understanding flows freely in the graceful movements of their hands.
Their union has blessed them with four children, bridging the silent and hearing worlds.
“Just one of them can use sign language perfectly for us to understand what they are saying,” Jael explains, her pride evident in every gesture. Their family is a beautiful tapestry of spoken and unspoken language, a testament to love’s ability to overcome any barrier.
Despite her determination and hard work, Jael’s financial struggles cast a shadow over her achievements. She typically works two to three days a week, earning between Sh250 and Sh350 for each wash. The meagre sum barely scratches the surface of her family’s needs.
“The amount of money I get is not enough to support family needs as well as pay fees,” she sighs, her hands moving with a mix of frustration and resignation.
Her eldest child has already dropped out of school and married, a fact that weighs heavily on her heart. For her other children still in school, she fights a daily battle to keep them there, stretching her limited resources to breaking point. Yet, even in the face of these financial hardships, Jael’s resolve remains unbroken. Each coin earned is a step towards a better future, each garment washed an act of love and sacrifice for her family.
Evy Akinyi, a health worker at Mbita Sub-county Hospital during an interview with Nation.Africa on September 30, 2024 . She also suffers from hearing impairment.
Photo credit: George Odiwuor | Nation Media Group
The challenges Jael faces are not unique to her alone.
Evy Nancy Akinyi, a hearing-impaired medical officer at Mbita Sub-county Hospital, sheds light on the broader issues.
“PWDs undergo a lot of challenges when their sexual and reproductive health rights are concerned,” she says through an interpreter.
Evy’s work in offering guidance, counselling, and HIV testing to Persons with Disabilities (PWDs) is crucial in addressing these often-overlooked needs.
The story of PWDs in Homa Bay is one of both struggle and hope. Edwin Nyanja from Kenya Legal and Ethical Issues Network on HIV and Aids (Kelin) points out the silent suffering many endure.
“We support vulnerable groups in the best way we can. PWDs must be accorded justice when their rights are violated,” he asserts, his words a call to action.
Scholarships and bursaries
Education emerges as a beacon of hope in this narrative. John Nyagon, County Director of the National Council for Persons with Disability, emphasises its importance.
“Education is the equaliser and encourages competition for opportunities,” he says, urging for more support in providing scholarships and bursaries for children with disabilities.
Lucy Odwar, Homa Bay County Director of Social Services and Inclusivity, adds her voice to this chorus of change. “Let learning institutions have facilities that the group can use to acquire education,” she advocates, painting a picture of a more inclusive future.
As the sun sets on another day in Homa Bay, Jael returns home, her hands bearing the honest marks of a day’s hard work. Her story is not one of pity, but of admiration. It’s a tale of a woman who refuses to be defined by what she cannot do, instead focusing on the myriad ways she can contribute to her family and community.
In the quiet of her home, surrounded by the family she loves, Jael’s world is full of sound – the sound of hearts beating in unison, of dreams taking flight, of a future being built one day at a time.
