The recent arson at Utumishi Girls Academy jolted the very neurobiology of a school community, sending an already burdened nation into grief, confusion, and even division. Many of us are searching for answers. Who should be blamed, and why did such a senseless act occur?
As both an adolescent medicine specialist and a parent, I initially found it too hard to confront this painful reality. Yet, amid that discomfort, one question persisted: Where do we go from here?
To take a step back, Kenya has walked this difficult road before. In 2016 alone, approximately 130 school fires were reported over two months during the second term. In the aftermath, mental health professionals, educators, and researchers worked to understand the “why”.
Reports spanning from the Sagini Report of 1991 to the David Koech Report of 2008 highlighted contributing factors: An overloaded curriculum, fear of examinations, breakdowns in communication between students and school leadership, and insufficient access to basic resources such as food and school supplies.
However, one question remains insufficiently answered: Why would such acts be directed toward fellow students? Peers facing the very same conditions?
As I have followed the recent events, through mainstream media and social media platforms, my thoughts have remained with the students, families, teachers, and wider community of Utumishi Girls Academy. Beyond the immediate damage, my concern centres on the ripple effects this experience may have on their emotional well-being, development, and future.
To better understand this, we must briefly consider the adolescent brain. Through the ecobiodevelopmental framework, which recognises childhood development as an ongoing interaction between a person's biology, environment, and experiences, we know that experiences, especially adverse ones, directly shape both the function and structure of the brain.
These experiences influence how stress responses are regulated, altering communication pathways within the brain. Our collective responsibility is to ensure that these changes do not become permanent. Why? Because prolonged or unbuffered stress can transition into chronic stress, which in turn affects two critical capacities for learners: Emotional regulation and memory. These are foundational for learning, relationships, and decision-making.
At this point, many of you as parents, teachers, healthcare workers, faith leaders, and policymakers may be asking: What can we do?
One of the most powerful protective factors we have is relational health. Relational health refers to safe, stable, and nurturing relationships between children or adolescents and the adults in their lives. These positive interactions are not just comforting; they are biologically protective. They build resilience and can significantly alter the trajectory of risk, even after deeply distressing events such as this.
What does this mean in practice? It means that recovery cannot rest solely on the shoulders of the Ministry of Education, schools, or mental health professionals. This is a collective call to action.
We are presented with an opportunity to adopt a multi-systemic approach, one that supports the students exhibiting behavioural difficulties within the context of their families, schools, and communities. I would further suggest that elements of this approach be extended to the entire student body affected by this tragedy.
Applied over the course of a minimum of two school terms, these intentional interventions can make a measurable difference. These may include social competence and emotional regulation training, academic re-engagement and skills-building initiatives, peer-to-peer support systems, structured safety measures including fire awareness and preparedness, and mentorship and after-school programmes.
At the same time, parents and families must be supported through structured skills training, equipping them to provide the stability and connection adolescents need during this period.
Encouragingly, many of these frameworks already exist within our communities, through faith-based organisations, community groups, and healthcare networks. With coordination and guidance, these can be aligned to evidence-based models, such as the Fast Track Programme (CPPRG 2020), which was designed with the goal of catching aggressive or anti-social behaviour early by teaching children how to manage their emotions while simultaneously giving parents and teachers the tools to effectively support them.
The programme has demonstrated positive outcomes among children and adolescents, as well as within the families, schools and communities that shape their daily lives. Equally important is capacity building for teachers and school administrators, ensuring that the support provided to students is reinforced consistently across all environments they navigate.
This is why I would like to emphasise a simple truth: It will take a village.
The distress we are witnessing will not resolve overnight. However, through consistent, intentional, and compassionate engagement, we can shift the trajectory, protecting not only the mental health of these students but also their hope, their potential, and their future.
So, to every parent, teacher, healthcare worker, policymaker, and community leader: Let the village get to work.
