St francis hospital, nyenga
St Francis Hospital, Nyenga, was founded in 1932 as a leprosy treatment hospital. Often referred to as Nyenga Hospital, it has since expanded to allow other types of patients. The people we spoke to in the case studies below caught leprosy as children. They have needed help and support throughout their whole lives. SFLG has partnered with Nyenga since 1988 so that it can provide all its residents' needs.
Teresa aged 59: Four generations affected by leprosy
At 59, Teresa is deeply grateful for the care her mother, Bayiga, now 82, receives at St Francis Nyenga. Bayiga moves slowly, each step deliberate. She refuses help even when offered, determined to remain independent despite the pain that radiates from her waist down and the numbness in her right foot. “Every year her situation worsens,” Teresa says. “She used to do farming, but now she can’t look after herself.”
Despite these challenges, both mother and daughter remain thankful for the hospital that has supported their family for generations. Nyenga is where Bayiga grew up, where she met her husband, and where she continues to receive treatment for ulcers and nerve damage.
Teresa does everything she can to support her mother while also running her small malwa (local beer) business and caring for her children and grandchildren. Recently, profits have fallen, and her daughter now sells chapatis and samosas at a nearby school to help cover household expenses.
Their story reflects the long‑term support older women affected by leprosy need, and the resilience of families who continue to care for one another through hardship.
Despite these challenges, both mother and daughter remain thankful for the hospital that has supported their family for generations. Nyenga is where Bayiga grew up, where she met her husband, and where she continues to receive treatment for ulcers and nerve damage.
Teresa does everything she can to support her mother while also running her small malwa (local beer) business and caring for her children and grandchildren. Recently, profits have fallen, and her daughter now sells chapatis and samosas at a nearby school to help cover household expenses.
Their story reflects the long‑term support older women affected by leprosy need, and the resilience of families who continue to care for one another through hardship.
Four generations from left: Teresa, two grand/great grand children, Bayiga (centre) and her grand-daughter (mother of the two children)
Akelo aged 67: A life lived with dignity and grace
When you meet Akelo, you sense immediately that she has lived a long life shaped by endurance. Her hospital ID says she is 67, but her memories suggest she is closer to her late seventies. She was diagnosed with leprosy as a young girl in the early 1960s, at a time when treatment was limited and stigma was widespread.
She remembers the early signs: numbness in her fingers, a strange lack of sensation in her left foot, and the long walks to St Francis Hospital, Nyenga for care. Even today, she still experiences fluctuating feeling in her hands and feet, and her eyesight has deteriorated with age.
Akelo has known deep loss. She had fifteen children, but only seven are still alive. The others died young, from illnesses she still struggles to speak about. Her husband passed away years ago, leaving her to manage the household alone.
She lives close to the hospital and attends when she can, though she missed the recent group meeting simply because she didn’t know it was happening. She only wears her protective MCR sandals when travelling to the hospital, a habit that worries staff, but reflects the realities of rural life.
Despite everything, Akelo remains steady. She manages her symptoms, tends to her home, and continues to rely on the hospital that has supported her for more than six decades.
Her story is one of resilience; a woman who has lived with disability for most of her life yet continues to move forward with dignity and grace.
She remembers the early signs: numbness in her fingers, a strange lack of sensation in her left foot, and the long walks to St Francis Hospital, Nyenga for care. Even today, she still experiences fluctuating feeling in her hands and feet, and her eyesight has deteriorated with age.
Akelo has known deep loss. She had fifteen children, but only seven are still alive. The others died young, from illnesses she still struggles to speak about. Her husband passed away years ago, leaving her to manage the household alone.
She lives close to the hospital and attends when she can, though she missed the recent group meeting simply because she didn’t know it was happening. She only wears her protective MCR sandals when travelling to the hospital, a habit that worries staff, but reflects the realities of rural life.
Despite everything, Akelo remains steady. She manages her symptoms, tends to her home, and continues to rely on the hospital that has supported her for more than six decades.
Her story is one of resilience; a woman who has lived with disability for most of her life yet continues to move forward with dignity and grace.
Namuli aged 87: Eight decades of struggle
Namuli was taken to St Francis Hospital in 1949, when she was around ten years old. She remembers the early years vividly, the food, the other children, and the relatives who visited when they could. Her uncle, who also had leprosy, believed she would be safe there. She grew up among other young people living far from home, learning to adapt to a life shaped by illness.
She healed, married a nurse at the hospital who also had leprosy, and built a family. But her life has been marked by profound loss. She had fourteen children; eight have died, six of them from HIV/AIDS. Her husband died seven years ago.
Now in her mid‑80s, Namuli faces a new challenge: a painful land dispute with her own children. One son, now around 70, believes he should control the land because he is the firstborn. When Namuli gave a small portion to another child who had nowhere to stay, the others reacted with anger. A surveyor was brought in. Papers were filed. The case is now before the courts.
“I’m supposed to go to court tomorrow. My children are challenging me.” Her grandson, who checks on her regularly, is heartbroken. “Instead of protecting her, they are fighting her,” he says.
Despite everything, Namuli remains grounded. She still cooks for herself, tends her small farm, and walks to the hospital when she needs care. Her story spans nearly eight decades, a testament to resilience, survival and the quiet strength of a woman who has endured more than most.
It is easy to believe that leprosy, and only leprosy, defines people who are affected, and this heart-breaking story reminds us that many have other challenges and struggles to face in their lives.
She healed, married a nurse at the hospital who also had leprosy, and built a family. But her life has been marked by profound loss. She had fourteen children; eight have died, six of them from HIV/AIDS. Her husband died seven years ago.
Now in her mid‑80s, Namuli faces a new challenge: a painful land dispute with her own children. One son, now around 70, believes he should control the land because he is the firstborn. When Namuli gave a small portion to another child who had nowhere to stay, the others reacted with anger. A surveyor was brought in. Papers were filed. The case is now before the courts.
“I’m supposed to go to court tomorrow. My children are challenging me.” Her grandson, who checks on her regularly, is heartbroken. “Instead of protecting her, they are fighting her,” he says.
Despite everything, Namuli remains grounded. She still cooks for herself, tends her small farm, and walks to the hospital when she needs care. Her story spans nearly eight decades, a testament to resilience, survival and the quiet strength of a woman who has endured more than most.
It is easy to believe that leprosy, and only leprosy, defines people who are affected, and this heart-breaking story reminds us that many have other challenges and struggles to face in their lives.
