Hussein Jirma, another Isiolo activist, focuses on correcting religious misconceptions.
"For years, people believed Islam permits FGM. But when we sat with Sheikhs and checked the Quran, we found no such teaching," he explains.
Today, some clerics include anti-FGM messages in their sermons, giving the campaign credibility.
"When people hear it from their religious leader, they start to accept," Hussein says.
His advocacy also addresses stigma. "Uncut women are often branded promiscuous," he says.
"But the truth is, FGM endangers mothers and children. It causes trauma, infections, and broken marriages."
At the grassroots, civil society groups are pushing for sustainable solutions.
Abdikadir Osman of Call for Change CBO says the work requires dialogue with both men and women.
"We involve elders, chiefs, religious leaders, and survivors. We realised the resistance is not just about culture-it's about information gaps," he explains.
Through radio campaigns, trainings, and community barazas, Abdikadir's organisation seeks to empower women and reframe traditions.
"We can't just condemn the practice; we must offer alternatives for identity and belonging," he says.
Isiolo has made progress. Survivors speak openly, elders denounce the cut, and men and women are forming alliances.
Yet, FGM persists in secrecy, especially in remote villages.
Medicalisation is also on the rise, with some families hiring trained nurses to perform the cut behind closed doors.
Dirham believes the fight must go deeper. "We can't just hold meetings in hotels," she argues. "We must go to the chiefs' barazas, the mosques, the women's groups in villages. That's where the change will come."
For Saadia, hope lies in empowering girls with education and alternatives to harmful rites of passage. "If we protect them and show them their worth, the cycle will end," she says.
And for elders like Bibian, the responsibility is clear: "We carried this tradition for years. Now it's on us to stop it."
The battle against FGM in Isiolo is far from over, but it is shifting. Survivors, elders, activists, and clerics are joining hands to dismantle a practice once seen as unshakable.
Nationally, the country has made tremendous progress in ending female genital mutilation. According to the 2022 Kenya Demographic and Health Survey, the national prevalence among women aged 15-49 has fallen to 15 per cent, down from 21 per cent in 2014 and nearly 40 per cent two decades ago.
But in Isiolo, the picture is starkly different.
Nearly two-thirds of women (66pc) aged 15-49 have undergone the cut, and among girls aged 15-19, the rate remains at 65 per cent.
In neighbouring counties, prevalence is even higher: Wajir (97.2pc), Mandera (95.9pc), Marsabit (83pc), and Samburu (75.6pc).
For Dirham, whose childhood was marked by pain and misplaced pride, the struggle is deeply personal. "I used to feel proud of being cut. Now, I feel the scars every day. But if my story can save one girl, then the pain is worth sharing," she says.