From abuse to saving thousands

Njeri Wa Migwi, Executive Director, Usikimye during the photo session in Kilimani on February 16, 2022. PHOTO | DIANA NGILA | NMG

By JACKSON BIKO
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Summary

• Over the past three years, Usikimye has rescued over 4,000 women and girls, 361 children, 14 infants, 71 teenagers and nine men.
• Njeri and her co-founder Stella Khachina currently run three safe houses (two for women and children and one for men) and a feeding programme in Soweto slums supported by the Gujarati community in Nairobi.
• She dislikes being referred to as inspiring or brave, but she is inspiring and brave.

The story of Usikimye, a community organisation that works towards ending gender-based violence, cannot be told without telling the story of one of its founders— Njeri wa Migwi. Because everything she pours in Usikimye comes from the dark well of her past.

Over the past three years, Usikimye has rescued over 4,000 women and girls, 361 children, 14 infants, 71 teenagers and nine men. All these were victims of sexual and domestic violence.

Njeri and her co-founder Stella Khachina currently run three safe houses (two for women and children and one for men) and a feeding programme in Soweto slums supported by the Gujarati community in Nairobi.

She met JACKSON BIKO at a cafe. She dislikes being referred to as inspiring or brave, but she is inspiring and brave.

***

What has been your biggest turning point in life?

About six or seven years ago, I was listening to an album by my friend called Misimu. It was a poetry session. It talks about seasons in life and it resonated with me. I started crying. I’m a survivor of gender-based violence.

At that moment, I felt I needed to document my story, so I wrote about it, things nobody knew. I was this strong feminist on Facebook so when people read about it they were like, ‘Oh my God, if somebody like you can go through it, then who are we?’ My story sparked a conversation.

How long were you married?

I got married at 16. I ran away from home after I got pregnant. The boy was 21. I grew up in Nairobi’s Kariobangi South. I was ashamed because I was the good Catholic girl that everyone was supposed to emulate. Then I got pregnant.

I couldn’t look at my father’s face. When I ran away, my father pursued me, made me finish school, made me go to college while married. I’m so grateful to him. He was a single dad.

I stayed married for 15 years because I wanted to prove to people that even women who come from broken homes can build marriages. When I reached 31, I left with two children and one deaf year.

Deaf year?

Yes, because of the violence. It was intermittent but the emotional violence was every day. I could have died, many women die.

We were well off. We had two nannies, owned a Hummer, I was gifted a BMW X6 for my birthday, my everyday car was a Range Rover, I had a bodyguard. I have travelled to 37 countries. I would have been an Instagram influencer! [Laughs].

We lived in an upmarket area, neighbouring the who’s who. Ironically, one of my neighbours was Martha Karua—the iron lady. [Chuckles].

My children went to international schools. He (ex-husband) was very hardworking, a great businessman, and a brilliant thinker. We did business in China when few Kenyans had thought of doing it. So it’s legit wealth, not stolen money. (Laughs) We worked for it. But I left everything.

When you think of the Njeri then, who do you remember?

I used to be very timid. When I say that, nobody believes it. I was terrified of telling anyone what was happening to me. I had no mother, no friends; I had the church and his family.

I was a member of the “Dad and Mum” church and I wanted my marriage to be like the pastor and his wife or what they showed us on the pulpit.

I wanted people to see this glamorous woman who had everything put together; driving a big car, having a bodyguard. I only lived a normal life when I travelled out of the country. I’d walk on the streets and be myself.

That is when I discovered, ‘oh, I like wine and coffee too.’ I had a very weird life. At home, I wasn’t allowed certain things. I was this skinny woman who used to eat salads, soup, and exercise. I had a nutritionist. I’d go swimming daily to maintain a required size; a 10. I looked like a Barbie doll.

And what size are you now?

A size 20. This is me being defiant. [Chuckles] This is me saying that when I go to the gym it’s on my terms and not because somebody forced me or made me or I needed to look a certain way or a certain shape for someone.

How was starting over like for you?

The reality is when your husband is wealthy you do not take his children away. So I left my children behind at the beginning and started afresh in Muchatha. My daughter came to my house for a visit and was like [switches to an American accent] ‘Mama, where’s the rest of the house?’

I was horrified [Laughs]. She was six then and her friends were like,“Topaz, your mama has an adorable doll-house.”

But I was peaceful and free. Free to be me. Can you imagine being married at 16 and by 31 you don’t know your identity? My identity was always rooted in church and in being a wife.

Then I opened an interior design shop. Yes, I had clients but I wasn’t sure of my decisions. I had no sounding board, him with his brilliant business acumen. It was not easy. I got conned and became homeless. I slept in friends’ offices or under the staircase for some time.

Do you feel that the church failed you? 

Yes. When I was going through my divorce I reached out to them but nobody was willing to talk to me. I had no audience because I had become a bad example. The church doesn’t want bad examples. My relationship with God has also suffered because of the things I have seen.

After this interview, I’m going to deal with a case of an 11-month-old baby who was raped. How do you deal with your faith when a four-day-old baby died in your arms because someone, an adult, raped her?

Or you see a cancer patient who has repeatedly been raped by her ex-husband and is now pregnant? I’ve seen too much wickedness in three years to really test my faith. The world is burning Biko. No one cares. 

You said the world is burning…

Yes. We all know of good men who treat their women and mothers right but what of their friends who don’t? The problem with gender-based violence is, the good men don’t rebuke their bad friends. If you know your friend is beating his wife, why are you not talking to him? Why are you good if you preside over bad?

Would you ever get married again?

I got married again and got divorced. [Laughs]. I got married again because I was homeless. [Chuckles] So I met this person and I don’t even know what happened but I found myself married. Very weird but we had a good run for five years. I carried a lot of baggage into the marriage even though I had gone through therapy.

I had a lot of unresolved anger. I didn’t know who I was. It’s during that period that I and Stella Khachina started Usikimye.org in 2019 and that changed the trajectory of things. I was rescuing abused women and I think I lost the intimacy that we had. I was looking at him as an aggressor.

What do you know now that you wish you knew at 20?

Find yourself first before you get married. Marriage is not a solution to your problems. Trust your parents, they know better. They see people for who they are. Trust your gut and leave at that first abuse. Don’t even think that he will change.

Sometimes, I think of having a conversation with him, maybe in five years when we’ll both have mellowed and older, and ask him, what was it about me that would provoke such violence in him? Because I’d assume he’s not like that to anybody else. What was it in me that he wanted to damage?

What has been the experience of running Usikimye?

My first case was a woman who had been thrown over the balcony. She had nowhere to go, so the idea to start safe houses came from there. Stella and I each raised Sh20,000 and rented a house in Muchatha.

That’s how we started. It’s been three years and I have seen domestic violence get progressively worse by the day.

How do you remain yourself when you see all these things?

Therapy. Debriefing. Therapy. Debriefing. 2020 was the worst year. Covid-19 came with a lot of domestic violence cases. Nowadays I don’t have a ringer on my phone, because if it rings I panic. And my phone never stops ringing, if I check now I will find missed calls and messages. My phone never rings with good news.

Why do you keep doing this?

Because if I don’t, who will? Someone has to do it. Currently, our safe houses are full but calls keep coming from women who are afraid, hurt and want refuge. We need to rescue these women, offer them medical care, food, lawyers, but we don’t have space.

I also feed 3,000 children in Soweto, four times a week. We serve 3,000 plates of food, 1,500 cups of porridge every week. And a lot of bread. The Sikh community gives us food donations to distribute.

I came to realise that in the low-income areas, gender-based violence and hunger have an intersection. If children are hungry, mothers will fight fathers. Violence will erupt. Feed the children, mitigate hunger and mitigate domestic violence. It’s that simple. That’s why we started the feeding programme.

When was the last time you had very good news coming into your phone, can you remember?

Oh! A Black couple from Germany donated land to the organisation to build a safe house. We now have three safe houses.

This is a horrible question I’m going to ask. Do you think what happened to you in marriage was necessary and useful for this moment of your life? Was it preparing you for this cause?

[Pause] I think so; regrettably. But yes, because without that experience I would not have the kind of understanding that I have now about gender-based violence (GBV), or the patience.

But also, I have always been empathetic because even before I started Usikimye I was very involved in charity and I wanted to be a nun. Maybe I should have been a nun. (Chuckles)

What’s the biggest life question you’re trying to answer right now at 44?

Why are we like this? Why do we always feel like violence is the answer? There is a lot of violence everywhere, even on social media. Look at how we talk to each other when we disagree.

If you’re to come back in the next life, would you come back as yourself?

No. It’s hard being me. I’ve gone through too much pain. I would want to come back as a simpler person, a happier person, a person who doesn’t have so many complications.

So many people are having it easy out here, I just want to be one of them. I don’t want to be inspiring, brave, bold. I want to come back single, and still a woman.

What do you fear now?

Nothing.

Do you think we all possess evil in us? 

I think we all can do evil. It’s how you control that capacity. When you look at these people who kill, who stab people, rape children, sodomise, do all sorts of evil things, they look like us.

They don’t look like monsters. When you see them you’re like, ‘is this is a person who did this?’ It’s unbelievable. And it’s baffling how these people get away with these crimes. I hope that we get a better Kenya, a country that is keen on justice. 

What do you do for fun? Because your life seems so grim.

I am a video gamer. I like war games. I get to shoot villains and they die and it feels so satisfying. I want to start playing Mafia games. I also watch movie series. I go out with my children. My life isn’t all bad.

What’s the most precious commodity you have in your possession now?

My sanity. In 2020 and 2021, I thought I was going to lose it. That’s how I came to realise how important it is to be sane.

How do you maintain the sanity?

Meditation. I practice yoga and go for therapy.