The wind in Hamisi was dry and sharp when Domtila Okemo first heard the name Teacher J again.
A bodaboda rider flagged her down on the dusty roadside. He spoke quickly, his voice tight with concern about a man he had ferried who coughed heavily all the way from Nyakach.
Domtila’s mind immediately spun back to the community dialogues she had led, teaching about the signs of tuberculosis.
The name was no stranger to her.
Teacher J, a proud father of three, remarried after losing his first wife, and, once full of life, had crossed her path before.
The journey
Years back, it was Domtila who had convinced him to go to Hamisi Sub-County Hospital, where he tested for HIV and bravely started treatment.
But life’s twists are often cruel, and in 2023, TB found Teacher J and gripped him hard.
He had taken his medication for four months only to abandon it, believing himself cured, and returned to his teaching job in Nyakach.
He remarried, and a beautiful baby girl, Baby B, arrived, lighting up their lives.
But under that light, shadows grew unnoticed and silent. Domtila never ignored whispers from the community, and she did not ignore this one.
She mounted her motorbike and set out across the undulating ridges of Vihiga, tracking Teacher J with the quiet precision of someone who knew time was no ally.
When she reached him, it was clear the disease had returned. His frail frame and persistent cough betrayed his silent battle.
Health Support
Without wasting a moment, Domtila called a community health promoter from Vihiga County Referral Hospital, and within days, Teacher J was back on anti-TB treatment.
Schools were about to close, and the house grew quiet, save for the hushed voices of counseling sessions that Domtila organized for the family.
Baby B had been screened before, but now her cough deepened, her weight dropped, and her small shoulders sagged under invisible weight.
Visits to private clinics yielded pneumonia diagnoses again and again.
The mother, fearful of stigma, never whispered a word about Teacher J’s TB status until Domtila gently urged her to open up to public health clinicians.
Baby B’s case was reexamined, and the inevitable truth came out. She, too, had TB.
Anti-TB treatment began a week ago, and the house, once dimmed by fear, began flickering with hope.
Yet the path was jagged. Baby B could barely keep her medicines down, her frail body rejecting even the smallest dose.
And with financial hardship gripping the family, nutrition was a luxury far out of reach.
Domtila called her team at UTU Bora CBO together, and in the quiet of their small office, they had hatched a plan.
Baby B loved Irish potatoes and afya juice.
Domtila’s team began cooking potatoes, placing them warm, and inviting Baby B to the table each time Baby B faced her meds.
The promise of her favorite meal nudged her spirit awake. Four days passed without vomiting, and her little laugh returned.
Meanwhile, the weight of isolation pressed on Teacher J. His school had quietly sent him on forced leave.
He protested, saying he felt strong enough to teach, but they held their decision firm.
Domtila knew the silent language of stigma. They feared what they would not name, and it seeped into the cracks of the system unnoticed.
No one had screened the elder children. No one had screened the learners.
The gaps yawned wide, threatening to swallow years of community health gains.
But Domtila had seen such darkness before.
Early diagnosis
Diagnosed with HIV in 1997, she had clawed her way through stigma and silence long before community dialogues were common.
By 2003, after coming to terms with her status, she turned her pain outward into purpose, working in the community with a fire few could match.
Tuberculosis was no stranger either.
At six years old, she had survived the disease herself, shortly after her grandfather succumbed to it, a memory that etched itself deep and unforgotten.
Since 2008, she had stood at the intersection of TB and HIV, working tirelessly first as a link person at Nakuru Provincial General Hospital’s chest clinic.
She later moved across Kenya, where her name became synonymous with fierce and unrelenting advocacy.
Her work in TB and HIV cross-cutting activities stretched nearly two decades, and it was this wealth of experience that now powered her mission in Teacher J’s home.
TB Champions
She is not alone. Domtila is one of more than 800 TB champions spread across Kenya’s ordinary citizens, armed with training, gear, and a compass, ion, working tirelessly to end TB in their communities.
Last week, Teacher J sat in a support group meeting, his voice steadier than it had been in months.
The potatoes had not only fed Baby B, but had rekindled a father’s hope and the ember of resilience in a household nearly broken.
In the heart of Vihiga County, where red soil clings to shoes and hope sometimes slips through fingers, Domtila Okemo, the TB Champion and Community Health Actor, quietly rewrote what it means to rescue not with sirens, but with a potato support group, soft words, and relentless courage.
The fight to end TB is long, but in homes like Teacher J’s, Domtila’s footprints mark a path others can follow.
The writer is the Vice Chairman of the Board at Network of TB Champions Kenya.
Yes, and the fight still goes on today. I did a follow-up visit to baby B, and you can’t see the previous frail baby B.
She was all over calling me aunty, having seen more of the Irish potatoes, afya juice, rice, maize meal, and some groceries.
As a Tb champion from vihiga county i can atest to this that its amongst many community succcess stories that we have heard.we are greatful for her leadership.and together we can end TB infection in our community.
It’s true coz teacher J and baby B I’ve been doing follow up on their treatment and testify that they are fairing on , baby B was unable to take the medication bt when potatoes and afia was introduced the going was easy and now we are smiling for the good deeds.thanks @domtila akemo.TB champion vihiga county vihiga sub county.