28 years in bed: Naomi's relentless fight for dignity

In a modest bed in a small, dimly lit room tucked deep within the bustle of Ngara’s old residential blocks in Nairobi, lies 48-year-old Naomi Kalema. She has been confined to this bed for the past four years, ever since she arrived in Nairobi. 

At first glance, Naomi’s captivating smile gives the false impression of a vibrant, bubbly woman, someone ready to spring out of bed, welcome us into her humble abode and eagerly share her story. 

Sadly, this was not to be. It was a false alarm, for looks can be deceiving. For nearly three decades, Naomi has been confined to a bed, her once-promising life derailed by an untreated arthritic condition. From aspiring hotelier to surviving purely on faith, hers is a story of resilience, medical neglect and an unyielding plea for help. 

For 28 years, Naomi has been robbed of the simple freedom of movement that many take for granted. Her world is not measured in miles walked, but in inches painfully shifted. While others forge ahead in life, Naomi’s time is still trapped in a body ravaged by untreated arthritis and medical complications. 

In 1997, Naomi had just completed her studies at the prestigious Utalii College, Kenya’s leading hospitality training institution. The world was opening up to her, a promising career in the hotel industry, dreams of independence and a chance to support her family. But all of that came to a devastating halt when her legs began to ache, swell and stiffen. 

Naomi was barely 21 when life as she knew it collapsed. “I used to be active and full of life,” Naomi tells me, her voice soft but steady. “Then the pain started, first in my joints, then my  back. Slowly, my body stopped responding. What began as aches and joint stiffness worsened into full immobility.” 

At first, she thought it was just malaria or fatigue. She went from clinic to clinic, but there was no diagnosis, no treatment, only painkillers, she recalls. 

For years, Naomi’s condition remained undiagnosed and untreated, a fate all too common in Kenya’s strained and uneven healthcare system. Without proper care or physiotherapy, her muscles weakened, her joints stiffened. Yet, through it all, she held onto hope, something she credits for keeping her alive for the past 28 years. 

From dreams to dependence

Before illness took its toll on her, Naomi was vibrant and ambitious, a beloved daughter, a sister and a dedicated employee. She had a deep passion for the hospitality industry and cherished her job at a five-star hotel in the coastal city of Mombasa. 

“It was like the floor fell from under me,” she recalls. At first, she dismissed the knee pain, assuming that it would pass. Determined to follow her dreams, she went ahead and took up the hotel job with enthusiasm. 

But the pain persisted, and soon it became unbearable. After just six months on the job, it grew so intense that she was forced to take leave and seek medical help.

The illness was relentless, and soon Naomi’s dreams dissolved into a daily routine confined to bed, dependent on others for every move, from bathing and feeding to changing and cleaning.

Her mother, a nurse, became her greatest supporter and caregiver. But Naomi’s world came crashing down when she lost her, just five years into her illness. Though her five siblings have remained supportive, the care and understanding her mother provided were irreplaceable.

After years of hospital and clinic visits, Naomi was finally diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis—a chronic autoimmune condition where the body’s immune system mistakenly attacks its own joints and tissues.

According to rheumatologists, without early and consistent treatment, and in Naomi’s case, without financial means, the disease progressed aggressively, crippling her mobility and eventually affecting her spine.

Naomi has spent more than half of her life lying down, often in excruciating pain. She hasn’t walked in nearly three decades.

Dignity denied by scarce finances

Naomi’s small room is cluttered with the essentials; a bed, a couch (for visitors and her caregiver), a few household items, a pair of walking clutches, medicine bottles, sachets and laundry. 

As her caregiver supported her to get out of bed, I observed that her legs had thinned and twisted over the years. Pressure sores flare up. She depends on adult diapers, which she often lacks. A wheelchair remains a distant dream. 

“Sometimes I stay in the same position for days,” she admits. “I feel embarrassed, but what can I do?” 

She explains that what hurts most, however, is not the physical pain, but being forgotten. 

“Many friends and relatives stopped visiting. They said I was cursed or lazy,” Naomi says, tears welling up. “Only a few still check on me. Some pastors, church members, neighbours and well-wishers,” she says. Her biggest uplifter and financial supporters are her 1996 30-member alumni class, chaired by Rahab Muthoni, supported by Lucy Maruhi. Both were present during the interview. 

An overdue diagnosis

It was not until 2020 that a visiting medical team finally diagnosed her condition: Advanced Rheumatoid Arthritis, spinal degeneration and muscular atrophy. By then, it was too late for full recovery, but not too late for care. 

“She needs regular physiotherapy, pain management, proper bedding and mental health support,” says Nurse Jacqueline Onyango, who visited Naomi during a church outreach. “But these require sustained support, which is lacking.” 

What could have saved Naomi?

Rheumatoid experts say arthritis is a progressive autoimmune disorder that attacks the joints. In Kenya, it often goes undiagnosed or misdiagnosed, especially among the financially challenged population. 

“Early diagnosis and treatment can prevent long-term damage,” says Dr Meshack Mwaura, a rheumatologist at Kenyatta National Hospital. “But many patients are treated for malaria or typhoid due to overlapping symptoms and lack of tests.” 

According to data, rheumatologists are few (less than 20 nationally), and the cost of drugs is prohibitive. For patients like Naomi, whose condition started in the 1990s when awareness and treatment were scarce, the consequences are dire. 

Naomi’s story, he says, is one of tens of silences, stigma and missed interventions. The outcome could have been different with early intervention, “but now, her medics must focus on improving the quality of her life.” 

That, he says, includes specialised care, pain management and physiotherapy — services that are out of reach for her family. 

Hope in the shadows

Despite everything, Naomi clings to faith. Her Bible lies clutched in her hands as she hums hymns during long nights. “I pray every morning. I ask God to give me another day.” 

What keeps her going? “My late mum. She never gave up on me, so I cannot give up on myself,” she says, her face lighting up from her radiant, contagious and captivating smile. 

Her hope? She still dreams of sitting in a wheelchair and rolling outdoors, maybe to church. “Just once,” she says, “to feel the sun on my face, and to engage in an income-generating venture so that she can be financially independent, and maybe even share her story in person. Naomi would be grateful to find a more supportive environment to call home, to raise funds to undergo her hip replacement surgery, a medical bed, a wheelchair, a supply of adult diapers and medication and financial support for her physiotherapy session and last but not least, financial help to hire a full-time caregiver. 

“Even if I never walk again, I just want to live with dignity,” she whispers.