More than a limb lost: How amputees rose above obstacles on their path to independence

Nancy Mumbua. [Courtesy]

Ann* has grown used to the strange looks she receives—some from strangers, others from people she knows.

First, it’s the stares. Then, a noticeable shift in their expression when they realise her right arm is gone.

“The look people give me when they see I’m missing an arm... it’s not a kind one. Why do they pity me? I can still do so much, just like everyone else,” she says.

Her journey began with a swelling in her hand. Despite following prescribed treatments, the condition worsened. She was constantly being referred to different specialists.

Finally, doctors diagnosed a severe infection spreading rapidly. “I was desperate. I just wanted to know what was wrong,” Ann recounts.

Life took a drastic turn. She could no longer work to support herself, and every attempt at finding even the simplest job ended in rejection.

“People would see me and decide I wasn’t fit. When they told me my arm had to be amputated, it was the hardest thing I ever heard. But I accepted it, because I didn’t want the infection to spread,” she says quietly. With mounting bills and no income, she had no choice, but sell most of her possessions to cover medical expenses.

She lost her arm in the process. But since then, the hardest battle has not been the physical loss—it has been society’s perception of her. “I nearly sank into depression. I felt worthless,” Ann shares.

Even in the face of pain and despair, she fought to survive—facing not only physical challenges, but also the emotional toll of it all.

Adapting to life after losing a limb is never easy. Simple tasks, such as doing the laundry—once second nature—have now become daily hurdles. Every movement reminds her of the life she once knew, filled with independence and ease. Her world was turned upside down, and each day is a struggle of learning, adjusting, and pushing through both emotional and physical barriers.

“I’m strong. But the stereotypes, the way people treat me, the doors that close before I even try… it’s hard. We’re human, just like everyone else. We deserve love. We deserve opportunities,” she says.

For Nancy Mumbua, 26, the morning of February 19, 2022 began like any other, but she had no idea it would be the last time she would walk on both feet.

The change was sudden and violent. As she walked along the footpath, a speeding car veered off the road, pinning her against a guardrail and crushing her leg on the spot.

“I was conscious the whole time. I knew instantly that life had changed,” she recalls.

Amputation doesn’t just take away a limb—it removes routines, expectations, and sometimes even relationships. For Nancy, the physical pain faded more quickly than the emotional wounds.

Her lower limb was gone. In the days and months that followed, she had to rely on others for nearly everything—mobility, emotional support, and daily survival. She could no longer move freely around the house, go to work, or take part in social activities.

“I felt so much pain. Not because I couldn’t walk, but because I couldn’t picture how life would turn out,” she says steadily.

The trauma, surgeries, and pain came quickly. The healing took far longer due to the emotional toll and the long process of adjusting to a new life.

“I let God carry me through it. It was difficult, but I came to terms with what had happened right there at the scene, while I was still in pain. That helped me recover,” she says.

Therapy was financially out of reach, but she persevered.

Today, she wakes up and reaches not for pity—but for the prosthetic leg that gave her back her independence. It cost her Sh1.2 million—a figure she still finds staggering.

“Life became more demanding. But this prosthetic leg changed everything. I work, I move around the city centre alone, I take part in social events. I do things people never thought I could do,” she says.

Nancy now works for a prosthetics company. “I wouldn’t be where I am without this journey,” she says quietly.

In Kenya, hundreds of people undergo amputations every year—victims of road accidents, diabetes, infections, or birth complications. The causes may differ, but the impact remains the same.

Dr Kirigha says the most common cause of limb loss in Kenya is diabetes-related infection. “We see around five to ten amputations a month. It’s heartbreaking,” he says.

He advises diabetic patients who have lost a limb to stay active with the help of assistive devices, in order to preserve the remaining limb.

Each year, the world observes Limb Loss and Limb Difference Awareness Month—a time to recognise the challenges and celebrate the resilience of people living with limb loss. For Dr Kirigha, it’s a time for advocacy, education, and sharing stories.

“Losing a limb isn’t just a medical issue. It’s a social, emotional, and psychological issue,” he says.

Amputation, he explains, is a surgical procedure to remove a limb or part of it—whether a finger, toe, arm, or leg. It is often the only life-saving option in cases of severe injury, diabetes, or cancer. In rare instances, body parts such as the breast, penis, nose, or ears may also be amputated due to cancer.

There are two types of amputation: surgical and traumatic. Surgical amputations are performed deliberately, while traumatic amputations occur suddenly during accidents or disasters.

Access barriers

Globally, an estimated 1.5 million people undergo amputations each year. Low- and middle-income countries, such as Kenya bear a disproportionate burden—marked by high road fatalities, limited medical care, and poor access to rehabilitation services.

In Kenya, the Social Health Authority—covers the cost of amputation surgery. However, prosthetic devices are not included in most public insurance packages.

“That’s the tragedy. Lives are saved through surgery, but their restoration is delayed,” says Emmanuel Onduso, a prosthetist.

The insurance does not extend to assistive devices such as prosthetics. Still, there is hope it could contribute a percentage towards helping patients acquire these essential tools.

Prosthetics offer hope—but only to those who can afford them.

“A basic prosthetic leg costs between Sh80,000 and Sh300,000. For many, that’s simply unaffordable,” says Onduso.

He urges the government to expand NHIF or other public insurance schemes to cover part of these costs.

“This is not a luxury—it’s a basic health need. People need their independence back,” he adds.

Children with limb loss face even more significant challenges. Their bones grow rapidly and unpredictably. A prosthetic that fits today might be outgrown in six months. Many will require multiple replacements before adulthood.

“Sometimes the growing bone presses against the skin or becomes sharp. It’s painful. We often perform minor surgeries to reshape the bone,” Onduso explains.

Customisable prosthetics can help, but they are expensive and not always available locally. And even with a device, recovery isn’t purely physical.

“Counselling is vital. When someone loses a limb, it’s not just the body that changes—it’s their identity. Therapy helps people rediscover themselves,” says Emmy Ingaiza, a counselling psychologist.

In Kenya, however, psychological support is often lacking. Government hospitals rarely provide holistic care. Many are left to navigate the trauma alone.

Amputees face many challenges that affect daily life. Physically, they must adjust to new mobility methods, often relying on crutches or wheelchairs. Emotionally, they may struggle with shock, grief, and low self-esteem. Depression and anxiety are common. Socially, amputees can feel stigmatised or excluded. Financial strain is another burden, as most insurance schemes exclude prosthetics or long-term rehab.

According to Ingaiza, amputation often leads to “ambiguous loss”—mourning something physically gone, but emotionally present.

“Patients experience identity crises. Who am I now? Can I still be loved? Can I be a mother, a wife, a career woman? Families must allow their loved ones to grieve, while also supporting them to rebuild what’s possible” she says.

She recommends early counselling and peer support groups—especially for young people still forming their identities.

Support groups are bridging this gap.

Magdalene Chesoli, born with a limb difference, struggled with low self-esteem for years. She started a support circle—a space to share, heal, and help others access affordable prosthetics. She now works with Circleg, an organisation offering mobility solutions for amputees.

Magdalene refused to let her condition define her. With determination, she stepped into the world of modelling—confidently taking her place in front of the camera. She also trains at the gym, showing up with discipline and drive. Against all odds, Magdalene is rewriting the narrative—proving true strength isn’t just physical, it lies in the spirit.

“It’s about community. When people feel seen and heard, they begin to rebuild,” she says.

But that visibility remains elusive across much of Kenya.

“I went to a government office last week. There was no ramp. No lift. Just stairs,” Magdalene shares.

This mirrors the daily struggles faced by people with limb loss, especially outside Nairobi. Uneven pavements, overcrowded matatus, and inaccessible buildings all contribute to a daily battle for dignity.

Breaking barriers

Even though the Constitution guarantees the rights of persons with disabilities, implementation remains weak. The Persons with Disabilities Act exists, but enforcement is patchy. Discrimination persists, and jobs remain out of reach.

“The government is trying, but there’s still more to be done,” says Alex Munyere, an official at the National Council for Persons with Disabilities (NCPWD).

The Council states that it is working with organisations to promote awareness during April. But those on the ground say they don’t want just awareness—they want action.

“We are not asking for pity—we’re asking for opportunity. We want to be part of building the table, not merely offered a seat at it,” says Ann.

That message is echoed by Alex Munyambabazi, a Ugandan soldier who lost his right leg after stepping on a land mine while on duty. The explosion changed his life in an instant. After the amputation, Alex developed Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

He says he couldn’t access the counselling services needed to help him adjust to his new reality, and this delayed his recovery. He recalls struggling with mobility, isolation, and basic tasks. Slowly, he transitioned from using crutches and a wheelchair to receiving a prosthetic leg.

Instead of withdrawing, he pursued medicine—earning diplomas and eventually a master’s degree.

His prosthetic gave him mobility, but counselling gave him purpose. Today, he runs a peer support group for amputees. He remembers how lonely and drawn-out the healing process was.

“I don’t want anyone else to go through that. We need better access to services, to care, and to hope,” he says.

New technologies have made prosthetics smarter, lighter, and more responsive—particularly in wealthier countries. Kenya has recently made promising progress.

A week ago, Kenyatta National Hospital (KNH) marked a major breakthrough when it successfully performed transhumeral Targeted Sensory Reinnervation (TSR) surgery, restoring sensation to the stump of 22-year-old amputee Moses Mwendwa.

The advanced technique reroutes nerves from an amputated limb to remaining skin, enabling the brain to interpret touch and temperature as if from the missing limb.

“This is not just a surgical first for Kenya, but for the continent,” said Dr Joel Lesan, Head of Specialised Surgical Services at KNH.

Moses, a software engineering student, suffered a fall that caused compartment syndrome. After multiple emergency surgeries, doctors had to amputate his dominant arm above the elbow.

“After the amputation, I kept feeling like my hand was still there,” Moses said.