“When she first traveled to India, Fyona’s treatment was supported under Edu Afya, an NHIF student medical scheme that covered medical costs for learners. It wasn’t perfect, but it provided a lifeline. Then, in December 2023, the government replaced NHIF with the Social Health Authority (SHA).“

A Diaspora Times Special Feature
At 21, Fyona Wanjiku Kabitta should be designing bridges and chasing her dream of becoming an engineer. Instead, she lies in a foreign hospital ward, dependent on weekly dialysis machines that hum day and night to keep her alive. Fyona has no kidneys. Both of her previous transplants failed and were surgically removed. Since June 2022, she has survived only through dialysis, enduring infections, blood pressure spikes, and heart strain that grow worse each day.
Her life story is both inspiring and painful. In 2011, when she was just seven, her father gave her one of his kidneys. That selfless act granted her a few more years of childhood. In 2020, she underwent a second transplant. But by 2022, after a devastating rejection episode, the second kidney was removed. Her mother had already died in 2019 of a heart attack, leaving her father, her first donor, as her only caregiver and advocate.
When she first traveled to India, Fyona’s treatment was supported under Edu Afya, an NHIF student medical scheme that covered medical costs for learners. It wasn’t perfect, but it provided a lifeline. Then, in December 2023, the government replaced NHIF with the Social Health Authority (SHA). The transition came abruptly, and with it, Fyona’s funding disappeared. No continuity, no backup plan, no support for a patient already in the middle of treatment abroad.
Her father has been appealing for help ever since. Harambee after harambee, he has stood before crowds with photos of his daughter, explaining her story. Diaspora groups have tried, churches have prayed, and friends have chipped in. But dialysis is relentless and costly; every session drains resources and strength. By late 2024, their finances were exhausted. Her doctors estimate that KSh 10 million (≈ USD 100,000) is required to perform a third kidney transplant and cover post-operative care for a whole year, including desensitization therapy, plasmapheresis, medications, hospital stay, and emergency reserves for complications.
The number sounds large, but it is not insurmountable. It is not charity, it is justice. Kenya’s Constitution guarantees every citizen the right to health. Yet here is a young woman whose life depends not on medical technology but on the mercy of strangers.
Fyona’s story is not a hidden secret. It is known at the highest levels of leadership. The President of Kenya, William Ruto, is aware of it. Raila Odinga knows about it. Francis Atwoli met her father, shook his hand, and assured assistance. Koskei, Kimani Ichungwa, Denis Itumbi, and former Cabinet Secretaries at the Ministry of Trade, such as Rebecca Miano, all know the case. Every major media house in Kenya, like Nation, Lynn Ngugi, TUKO, and Standard, has covered it. Diaspora Times, Jeremy Damaris has also covered her story. The list is endless, yet the silence is deafening.
And so we ask the questions everyone else avoids:
Should we keep blaming the Social Health Authority, which replaced NHIF and abandoned her midstream?
Should we keep blaming the President, who reportedly blocked some people who tried to raise the issue?
Should we blame Raila, who may have forgotten her the moment he shook hands with her in the presence of the father?
Should we blame Francis Atwoli, who met her at the airport, promised help, and then boarded a plane and forgot?
Should we blame her area MP, NDINDI NYORO, who never acted on the many messages her father sent?
Should we blame Mike Sonko, President William Ruto, and the then Mombasa Governor Joho, to whom Fyona publicly appealed to through a viral online video?
Should we blame the Diaspora, who watch from afar and promise to act but postpone until it’s too late?
Should we blame Sabina Chege, or other leaders who once sympathized but moved on to political battles and party wrangles?
The answer may be No.
Blame changes nothing. Action does.
Because the truth is simple: we can do it ourselves. A shilling here, a shilling there, one person forwarding this message to another, within a day, we could raise over ten million shillings. We have raised more for weddings, funerals, and politics. Why not for life?
It’s not that fundraising hasn’t happened; it has, but not at the impact needed to make it happen when a Kenyan lady donor was still available, when her body was stronger, when complications hadn’t yet taken over. Famous social media personalities tried, the appeal went viral, and the heart of Kenya stirred, but the money raised was not enough. The timing slipped away. Now, the cost of waiting is higher, the pain deeper, the risk greater.
So what now? Do we scroll past her story again and whisper “pole sana”? Or do we act?
This dossier is not about guilt; it is about grace. About doing something real, something tangible. It’s not about blaming the state or individuals. It’s about the power of collective kindness. We can turn this around, and we must, because the next headline we read could be too late.
Fyona is not just a name on a poster. She is a Kenyan daughter who has spent her youth in hospitals instead of classrooms. She has survived longer than the odds said she would. Her father, who once donated a kidney, is now donating his soul every day to keep her alive. He has no more to give, except hope. And hope is what we can multiply.
We have seen Kenyans come together before, to bring back stranded citizens, to build schools, to rebuild churches. Let this be another such moment. Let us give her the dignity of life, the chance to breathe without a machine, to study, to smile again.
The target is KSh 10 million, enough for surgery, pre-op therapy, one year of post-transplant medication, and recovery. Every contribution matters. Even more, every share of this message matters. If one person shares with ten, and those ten share with ten more, in days the network becomes unstoppable.
This is not a political story. It is not a blame game. It is a call to humanity. Because at the end of the day, when the machines go silent, regret cannot buy time.
Let us act now, not later. Let us not mourn tomorrow what we could save today.
IT IS WELL… LET IT BE!
FOR SUPPORT & DONATIONS CONTACT:
How to Help
M-Pesa Paybill Number: 222111
Account Number: 1913797
Walter Kabitta (Father): Mpesa line
0716 727 012.
Jane Githere (Treasurer, Mombasa):
0722 411 510

Let us not write an obituary where we could sign a cheque. Save Fyona. Do it now, not later.
Closing Words
Fyona’s future is balanced on a knife’s edge. With your help, that edge can tilt toward life, toward classrooms and construction sites, toward bridges built not only of steel but of solidarity.

Without your help, the silence of neglect will claim her.
This is not just her appeal. It is ours.
Save Fyona. Donate today. Share her story. Refuse to let hope die.

We have done our part through writing and even helping with funds for dialysis. Do your part if you know about this case, or it’s the first time you’re learning about it.

Arch Dr. D.K. Gitau

The Diaspora Times.

email diaspratimeskenya@gmail.com