Pangs of Corruption Stripping Girls in Kibra of Their Dignity

In Kenya’s largest slum, Kibra, an abolition block that was once a lifeline for hundreds of girls during their periods, has until last week been converted into a hotel, serving chapatis and tea to unsuspecting customers. The public toilet located in Lind ward, built in 2013 by the National Youth Service (NYS) to provide safe hygiene options, especially for menstruating girls, quietly morphed into a local hotel with no official notice or community consultation. But behind the aroma of food lay a stench of secrecy.

As I was pursuing this story, my fact-finding mission at the hotel raised suspicion among the proprietors, and I had to quickly leave the facility for safety reasons. Days later, I received word that the hotel had been pulled down.

The former toilet-turned-hotel has been shut down, with part of the structure now left open, seemingly serving as a temporary storage space as renovations continue.

Pamoja FM has since established that the toilet-turned-hotel was owned by a group of youths in Kibra backed by an area politician. There was no legal transfer but a backdoor deal, as there are no documents to show this. In Lindi, girls continue to walk long distances in search of toilet facilities to manage their periods in dignity, while someone is cashing in on their desperation.

Judith Shitabule, a Community Health Volunteer (CHV), says this toilet once helped girls maintain their hygiene. It was a small public washroom where girls came to fetch water and clean up. It was not free; users paid about five shillings, but it was accessible and a remedy for the imbalance.

That changed when water in Lindi started becoming scarce after COVID-19. With the water gone, the toilet could no longer operate. Girls who used to come there to fetch water or bathe are now forced to walk long distances. Judith says many of them are facing a dilemma. During menstruation, they have nowhere to go.

The community health worker says she feels powerless. As a CHV, she used to link girls to clean water points and encourage them to use the toilet for safe hygiene. Now, she has no place to refer them to. In Kibra, where toilets are already limited, the closure of one facility deepens the problem.

For girls in Lindi, this toilet was not just about relieving themselves; it was the only private space they had during their periods. Without access to it, managing menstruation becomes a daily struggle.

It’s a struggle Edith*, now 27, knows too well. She was 13 when she saw streaks of blood flow down her thigh on a day she did not have sanitary pads but a piece of cloth to hold the blood, even as she figured out what to do next. I still remember it.

Edith and I were classmates. One afternoon, as we were heading out of class, I saw blood dripping down her legs. She was running, her face buried in her hands, her sweater tied tightly around her waist. I didn’t understand it fully then, but I knew something was wrong, something painful and humiliating.

Years later, as I listen to girls in Kibra today share similar experiences, I realize not much has changed. The shame, the silence, the struggle, it’s all still here.

It was not the first time this had happened to Edith. On a good day, she could get pads from well-wishers, but on a bad day, a piece that she had made from pieces of torn clothes and knitted well was her cover. Edith still remembers this experience years later, and she hates it, with tears dripping from her chin as she recounts the experience.

During her first period as a young girl, the reality of poverty at home became clear. Her parents, already struggling to put food on the table, couldn’t afford sanitary pads.

Edith recalls overhearing arguments between her mother and father about school fees and rent, so asking for pads felt impossible, almost selfish. A situation that led to her mother and father separating later in life.

Watch Edith’s Interview Below

At St. Juliet Primary School, with a population of about 700 children, majority of the 400 girls enrolled don’t feel safe or confident during their periods, especially because they lack necessary menstrual kits to cushion them during periods.

Without a consistent supply, some girls are forced to rely on makeshift solutions like pieces of cloth, which are uncomfortable and often unhygienic. The school has in the past tried to help, but the supply is erratic and far from enough.

Girls I spoke to say they live in fear of staining their uniforms, being laughed at by boys, or having to sit through long lessons without a chance to change.

“When I’m on my period, and I don’t have pads, I just stay home, I feel too embarrassed to come to school and sit the whole day, not knowing if I’ve stained my dress,” said a 15-year-old girl from the school.

While a few feel comfortable asking female teachers for help, some choose to suffer in silence. They believe the government should provide free pads regularly and ensure schools have clean, private toilets with running water.

They also want boys to be taught about menstruation to stop the teasing and help break the silence around periods.

Chris Musonye, a deputy head teacher at the school, notes that some girls have contracted infections due to unhygienic conditions during their periods, sentiments that have been echoed by Ann Ager of Polycom Development Project, an organization that supports women and girls in Kibra.

Listen to Chris Musonye and Ann Ager speak 

At Old Kibera Primary School, a junior secondary teacher shared that in a class of 50 students, 28 of them girls, she regularly sees at least five girls missing school each month due to a lack of sanitary pads. She says the number may be even higher, as many suffer in silence. While donations from well-wishers, fueled by ongoing advocacy, offer some relief, the teacher admits they are insufficient.

“We have a situation where girls share pads, so some may decide, since they have a heavy flow, they will stay at home and come when the flow has reduced,” the teacher, who sought anonymity, added.

Zulekha Yusuf, an activist in Kibra, remembers her first period as well, not because it was a rite of passage but because of the panic and shame that followed.

“I was in Class 6, and I didn’t even know what was happening to me,” she says. “I used my sweater to tie around my waist the whole day. No one had talked to us about it, and there were no pads.”

That moment has stuck with her and fuels her current work as a champion for girls’ rights in Kibra. She says the stigma around menstruation hasn’t fully disappeared. “Even now, some girls are teased when they stain their uniforms.”

The middle-aged activist says other girls are too afraid to ask for pads and end up missing school or using rags. But she wants to see a change.

“When girls see women like me talking openly about periods, they start to realize there’s no shame in it.”

She credits community-based groups, including youth volunteers and women leaders, for normalizing conversations around menstruation in churches, mosques, and local Barazas.

However, Zulekha is concerned that government support has dwindled. The once-promising national sanitary towels program, which allocated funds to supply pads to public school girls, seems to have faded without explanation.

When I asked girls at St. Juliet Primary School about the program Zulekha is talking about, many said they hadn’t received government-issued pads in months.

“We used to hear the government would bring pads, but now it’s just random people or sometimes nothing at all,” one girl said.

Zulekha now urges both county and national leaders to revive and strengthen menstrual health policies, calling for sustainable funding and direct accountability to the schools that need it most.

Activist Editar Ochieng says the problem goes beyond pads and toilets. It is about poverty. She says some men in Kibra take advantage of girls by exploiting their need for pads. Sex-for-pads transactions are not new. According to Editar, USAID was supporting 60 percent of sexual and reproductive health programs at her organization, and now that it has halted its operations in Kenya, she insists girls will be more exposed.

She believes the government needs to address poverty if it wants to tackle period shame and exploitation. Without intervention, she says, girls are left without choices.

According to the United Nations International Children’s Emergency Fund (UNICEF), more than 1.2 million primary school-aged children in Kenya, out of an estimated population of 54 million, are not enrolled in school. Of these, one million girls miss school every month due to the lack of sanitary pads. The Ministry of Education reports that menstruation causes many girls to miss up to two weeks of school each term. This challenge is compounded by research showing that 65% of Kenyan women cannot afford sanitary pads, further exacerbating the barriers to education for young girls.

What Edith went through has never left her. But instead of staying silent, she now uses her story to help other girls. She’s part of efforts in her area to make periods less scary, to talk openly, and to make sure girls don’t go through what she did.

“No girl should ever go through that kind of shame. I tell them it’s okay. I remind them to carry an extra pad. And I push the schools around here to keep their toilets clean,” Edith says.