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Begging for food on the streets is often a reality we brush aside, a fate imagined for others, never ourselves.
But for Millicent Atieno, 36, a single twist of fate unravelled her world and cast her into a reality she never envisioned: surviving on the streets with three children.
Atieno, now living in Siaya, carries the emotional scars of a life marked by betrayal, violence and abandonment.
Her story begins with what she thought was love, a relationship with a matatu conductor who doubled as a musician.
“He was charming, full of life. We ended up together and had two children,” she recalls.
But behind closed doors, love quickly morphed into something else.
“He would beat me so often that neighbours pleaded with me to leave. But I stayed, believing things would change,” she says.
They never did.
Her escape from that abusive relationship led her down another troubled path, a second man, another failed relationship, and a third child.
Desperate to feed her children, Atieno found herself on the unforgiving streets, reduced to begging.
It was at her lowest that she found solace at Kusitawi Village Children’s Home, one of the nearly 30 authorised rescue centres across Kenya.
There, she began a journey of healing, physically, emotionally, and psychologically.
Atieno had dropped out of school in Form Three back in 2006. She worked in local hotels and later moved to Nairobi as a house help.
During her first relationship, she worked as a conductor alongside the father of her children, a job she gave up when her son began having convulsions at just two-and-a-half years old.
“The convulsions made it hard to work. And the beatings never stopped,” she says. “I eventually left with my children and went to Busia.”
She hoped the move would offer safety and a fresh start. But life had other plans.
Despite working manual jobs, her son’s condition worsened. Doctors told her the convulsions would be lifelong. Her savings dwindled in pursuit of alternative treatment. The father of her children offered no support.
“I started going to friends for help. But that didn’t last. I became depressed. And then in 2019, I lost my son,” she says, her voice cracking.
She tried to start a business. It failed. Her health also began to deteriorate.
“I met another man. He was married, but kind. I fell in love again,” she says.
She became pregnant in 2020. But kindness was short-lived. The old cycle of neglect and abuse resumed.
“The beatings from my first husband had injured my back. I began walking with crutches. This man abandoned me too,” she says.
Former matatu colleagues encouraged her to return to Nairobi for treatment. But once there, doctors told her treatment couldn’t proceed while she was pregnant. Unable to work, she turned to the only option left: begging.
“At first, it was for food. Then it became an addiction,” she admits. “On the streets, you’ll always find someone to give you a coin or a bite. So you keep going.”
A sympathizer in Busia helped set up a small shop for her, but even that couldn’t anchor her life. The father of her newborn insisted she move near Bungoma, where he lived.
She agreed, but his wife soon found out. He vanished, leaving her pregnant again and penniless.
“Rent went unpaid. Food ran out. I went back to begging,” she says.
A friend in Nairobi promised to help and asked her to come over. When she arrived with her children, heavily pregnant, the friend never showed up.
Alone and desperate, Atieno wandered the city. “I’d tell people my story. Most just walked away,” she says.
In a moment of desperation, she made a chilling decision. “I walked into a police station and said I was a careless mother. I begged them to take me to court, just so my children could go to a children’s home and I could go to jail.”
Instead, she was taken to the children’s office. She began bleeding and was given a room to rest. That was December 2021.
The following day, she and her children were ferried to Kusitawi Village.
“I didn’t know it was a rescue centre. But there were other women and children. We were fed, given medical checkups. My children were safe,” she says.
At Kusitawi, doctors discovered she was anaemic and deeply depressed. She gave birth to a premature baby at just six months. The infant stayed in the nursery for several months, as caregivers brought her food daily.
All her medical bills were paid.
After four months, she was discharged. She moved to Bungoma, where the centre paid her rent for two months and gave her soap-making tools to restart life.
“I promised myself never to return to the streets,” she says. Today, she lives in Bondo, housed by a former schoolmate. “I wash clothes, cook, anything to feed my children. I know what it means to have nothing.”
Her story reflects the mission of the Street Families Rehabilitation Trust Fund (SFRTF), to rescue, rehabilitate, reintegrate, and resocialize street families while preventing more from falling through the cracks.
“Such a family starts a new life that takes three months,” says SFRTF Chair Mary Wambui. “They eat, bathe, receive medical care, and are clothed. Their transformation begins from there.”
Caroline Towett, the Fund’s Ag. CEO notes that many beneficiaries need more than shelter; they need detox, counselling, and skills.
“We guide them through behaviour change. Those who were addicted to drugs are rehabilitated,” she says.
At Kusitawi, led by founder Mary Gitau, the focus is on complete restoration.
“Since COVID-19, we’ve rescued over 300 families. In 2024 alone, we’ve helped 75 families, most with children,” Gitau says.
Economic empowerment is key. Women are trained in hairdressing, catering, tailoring, and farming. Upon reintegration, they’re given startup capital to reduce the risk of returning to the streets.
Gitau believes the root of the street families’ crisis lies in poor parenting, poverty, and gender-based violence.
“We teach them positive parenting. We send their children to school. We remind them that they’re worthy,” she says.
The government plans a national census to identify and rehabilitate street families, ensuring they live in dignity.
For Atieno, the road ahead is still rocky, but she walks it with hope. Crutches may have replaced her youthful gait, but her spirit remains unbroken.
“I now know that even when life is hard, you don’t have to stay down,” she says. “As a mother, I’ll never abandon my children.”
