By: Cynthia Soita
Kenya has hundreds of children’s homes—each operating under different financial capacities and institutional structures.
Some are underfunded and stretched thin. Others are well-managed, with routines, resources, and systems designed to protect and nurture. I once spent time in such a facility. The children there were fortunate: they ate well, dressed with dignity, celebrated their birthdays joyfully, and attended one of the most respected schools in the county.
From the organization’s standards, it was clear—even to well-wishers—that the children deserved only the best. Torn clothes were not allowed. Smiles were gently encouraged.
The children were also occasionally taken out to interact with the outside world—an intentional effort to help them integrate with society beyond the home’s walls.
And yet, something deeper remained unspoken.
Even in structured environments, some children still whispered painful questions:
“Why did my parents never come back for me?”
“Am I truly unworthy of love?”
“What did I do to deserve being left behind?”
These aren’t the kinds of questions a plate of food or a shiny school uniform can answer.
Many orphans grow up haunted by the silence of absent relatives. They often wonder if they were forgotten—or worse, ignored. This emotional gap, filled with confusion and fear of rejection, can shape how they see themselves for years.
In homes where caregivers rotate by shifts and rules prohibit physical touch with the opposite sex, deep emotional bonds can be rare.
One of the rules in the home I observed was this: no holding hands with someone of the opposite sex. Though designed to protect the children, it came with unintended consequences. For some, love and touch became foreign or even taboo.
Later, when these children reached adulthood—especially those who joined university without supervision—some clung to the first person who showed them attention. A few young women became pregnant early, not because they were reckless, but because they yearned for validation and connection.
Years of monitored affection and strict boundaries had left them emotionally unprepared to navigate relationships.
A key challenge orphans face is not just access to resources—it’s emotional preparedness.
While children’s homes may provide structure and protection, they often cannot replicate the emotional depth and continuity of a close-knit family. Orphans grow up within systems, but not necessarily within relationships that build long-term trust.
When they leave these systems and try to reintegrate into society, many struggle with trust, emotional bonding, and a sense of belonging.
Are they close enough to others to form meaningful connections? Or do they simply float through life, guarded and detached?
A wedding day is often a joyous milestone—but for many orphans, it’s also a reminder of what’s missing.
“Who will walk me down the aisle?”
“Would my mother have approved of my partner?”
“Will anyone call me after this just to check in—without obligation?”
Behind the white dress or the clean-cut suit, there is sometimes a silent ache. That moment becomes a symbol—not just of a new beginning—but of the emotional milestones that were never marked with a parent’s blessing.
Orphans are often expected to “be grateful.” Society praises them for surviving but forgets to ask whether they are thriving.
They may face suspicion in romantic relationships, overcompensate at work, or struggle with unresolved trauma masked as ambition. Friendships might feel temporary. Conflict can trigger fears of abandonment. Even success can feel hollow without someone to celebrate it with.
The stigma of being "from a home" follows some into adulthood. Whispers like “she grew up in a home” or “he doesn’t even know his people” linger long after they’ve left the institution.
True healing begins with presence, not pity.
Spouses, friends, and communities can choose to love patiently, affirm deeply, and create safe spaces where emotional wounds are not dismissed but understood.
Ask how they're really doing—not just where they came from. Celebrate their milestones. Be consistent. And most importantly, let them know that being an orphan is not the main script in their lives but a portion of a beautiful tapestry we wish to help them create.
Because the real solution doesn’t lie in simply placing a child in a system—it lies in making them feel wanted, loved, and seen every step of the way.
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