Shackled by Stigma: A silent war on Kenya’s disabled

A frayed kitenge cloth hangs loosely over her shoulders, and she hums quietly — the only sound in an otherwise hollow silence. In the deeply superstitious community, her family says she began “talking to herself” and soiling herself years ago. 

After several visits to local healers and a failed trip to a health centre, they locked her away to “keep her safe.”

In Kenya today, many like BA are not just forgotten — they are physically bound, hidden from sight and stripped of dignity.

A Human Rights Watch report released this year paints a chilling picture: across the country, especially in rural areas, people with mental health conditions are still being shackled — locked in dark rooms, tied to trees, or chained inside makeshift cages. 

“Men, women and children with real or perceived psychosocial disabilities continue to be shackled—chained or locked in small, confined spaces—due to inadequate support and mental health services, and prevalent stigma,” the report reads. 

But this abuse is only part of a larger crisis — one defined by silence, ignorance and structural neglect.

According to the United Nations Population Fund, persons with disabilities make up 2.2 per cent of Kenya’s population — about 900,000 people. Of these, 57 per cent are women, and more than 80 per cent live in rural areas.

These are not just statistics; they are the faces of girls denied schooling, mothers unable to give birth safely and children like 12-year-old MK from Bomet county, whose world, just like BA’s, is confined to the radius of a rope.

MK was born with a developmental disability. At first, his mother, Ruth, took him everywhere she could to get help. But as he grew older and his conditioned worsened, neighbours of the family became hopeless and somehow wrote him off.

One day, he was almost hit by a motorbike. That night, Ruth tied him to a bed frame with an old nylon cord. “I know it’s wrong,” she says, her voice cracking. “But I’m scared he’ll die if I don’t. We’ve been to hospitals. They just give us Panadol and tell us to go.”

Other cases, lack of exposure and proper information makes developmental disabilities like celebral palsy or autism ignored and poorly responded to.

The common types of disability are mobility (42 per cent), followed by visual (36.4 per cent), cognition (23.2 per cent), hearing (16.7 per cent), self-care (15.3 per cent) and communication (12.1 per cent), according to the 2019 Kenya Population and Housing Census report.

It showed that more than 80 per cent of persons with disabilities live in rural areas. Social and gender norms, misconceptions and negative attitudes around disability are some of the leading causes of marginalisation of persons with disabilities, UNFPA says.

The UN agency says that one of the glaring signs of neglect of the disabled is the underinvestment in the disability health services, including the infrastructure that facilitates them.

For example, the agency says that “public health facilities lack or have inadequate equipment or amenities adapted for persons with disabilities such as access ramps, examination couches and delivery beds, as well as insufficient assistive devices and technology.”

Also, any health intervention to this special group does not recognise them as sexual beings, it says, as their sexual and reproductive health needs is never prioritised.

“Sexual and reproductive health information is often not readily available in accessible formats, and persons with disabilities still struggle to access basic information online or via local apps as most digital platforms are not developed with their needs in mind,” the UN agency says

Instant analysis:

Kenya stands at a crossroads. It can continue down the path of silence and shame — or choose one of inclusion and justice. For BA and MK, and for the thousands still locked away in unseen corners, this is not just a health issue. It is a human one. A call for a nation to see, listen and act.