WaziCare +

July 11th, 2025. The sun beat down on a dusty road in Kajiado County as I conducted WaziCare+'s first Community Needs Assessment. I had taken a leap of faith weeks earlier, believing that understanding our community's pain points mattered more than rushing to innovate.

Then Dennis appeared.

At 8 years old, he was charming, courteous, and outgoing. His smile was radiant. His energy was magnetic. And school was in session.

He wasn't there.

"Why aren't you in school?" I asked after he'd stayed by my side through several questionnaires.

He didn't answer with words. He led me to a small iron-sheet house.

Inside, his mother Catherine sat with four children. When she saw me, she wept.

When Hope Dies Before the Body Does

"My kids have missed half the school year," Catherine said through tears. "I can't support them. Casual labor is unstable. Their father left. We haven't eaten in three days."

She looked at me with eyes that had already surrendered. "I've lost hope in life."

I launched WaziCare+ to eliminate Kenya's 530 maternal deaths per 100,000 live births. Our motorcycle mobile clinics exist so rural mothers don't travel 20+ kilometers for basic maternal care.

But sitting in that small house, I learned something critical: maternal death isn't always physical.

Catherine hadn't died in childbirth. She had died emotionally, mentally, financially. Her children—Dennis, Joy, Blessing, and their youngest sibling—were watching their mother disappear while her heart still beat.

Keeping mothers alive means keeping their hope alive too.

I looked at Dennis, Joy, and Blessing. "Your kids will go to school," I told Catherine. "God has a plan for every child born on earth."

I had no idea how I'd keep that promise.

The Post I Almost Didn't Write

Back home, I stared at the photos from that day. Dennis on the roadside. Catherine's family together, trying to hold onto hope through impossible challenges.

Fear gripped me. What will people think? Will they judge me for sharing their story? Am I exploiting their vulnerability?

I almost didn't post.

But Dennis's smile haunted me. Joy and Blessing deserved a chance. Catherine needed her dignity back.

So I posted their story on LinkedIn in July 2025.

People judged. Some questioned my motives. Others looked away from the discomfort.

But across continents, one person saw something different.

When a Stranger Becomes Family

Johanna Tatlow found our post.

She didn't know me. She'd never met Catherine's family. She lived thousands of miles away from Kajiado County.

But she saw four kids who needed school. She saw one mother who needed hope. She saw a founder willing to show up.

And she trusted us.

Johanna navigated Kenya's complex public education system with patience. She asked questions. She learned. She persevered through bureaucracy that would frustrate anyone.

She loved Dennis, Joy, and Blessing as her own.

By partnering with WaziCare+, Johanna didn't just fund education. She restored life to a family facing overwhelming challenges.

January 8th, 2026: The Day Everything Changed

Six months after that roadside encounter, I walked into a school in Kajiado County.

Dennis sat at a desk in his classroom. His uniform was fresh. His eyes were bright. His smile was so wide it made my eyes water.

He waved at me, excitement radiating from every part of his small body. "Auntie! I'm in school!"

Down the hall, Joy and Blessing sat in their respective classes. Three kids who had missed half a school year were now exactly where they belonged.

Dennis has a learning disability. He's thriving anyway.

Catherine met me outside the school. Her eyes—the same eyes that had held no hope six months earlier—now sparkled with life.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I'm alive again."

What WaziCare+ Learned About Saving Lives

We launched in October 2025 with one clear mission: deploy motorcycle mobile clinics to eliminate Kenya's 530 maternal deaths per 100,000 live births.

Three months later, we're funding education.

This isn't mission drift. It's mission clarity.

You cannot separate a mother's physical health from her mental, emotional, and financial wellbeing. A mother who watches her children struggle or miss school faces challenges that affect her entirely. That impact is just as real as maternal mortality.

When Catherine's kids went to school, she came back to life. Her dignity returned. Her hope rekindled. Her capacity to care for herself and her family expanded.

Maternal healthcare isn't just about birth. It's about life—full, dignified, hopeful life.

The Lesson Every Founder Needs

I'm 25 years old. I'm now a mother of four—not biologically, but purposefully. God gave me Dennis, Joy, Blessing, and their sibling through purpose.

Starting WaziCare+ taught me this: Show up. The right people will locate you.

I almost let fear silence Catherine's story. But I showed up publicly, vulnerably, authentically.

And Johanna found us.

The right recruiter will find you. The right donor will find you. The right investor will find you. The right opportunity will find you.

But only if you show up.

Looking Forward: 2026 and Beyond

We closed 2025 strong, pitching at GreenTech Hub Demo Day on December 18th, 2025, with support from timbuktoo, UNDP, and 500 Global. These partners believed in WaziCare+ when it was just a leap of faith.

Now we're opening 2026 with proof: we show up, we deliver, we transform lives.

Our motorcycle mobile clinics are coming to Kajiado County. Rural mothers won't travel 20+ kilometers for basic maternal care anymore. We're eliminating the 530 deaths per 100,000 live births—one community, one mother, one family at a time.

There are more children in Kajiado who need education support. More mothers who need their hope restored. More families facing difficult choices.

We're ready to partner.

Dennis taught me that impact happens when you see the whole person. Catherine taught me that saving lives means saving hope. Johanna taught me that trust transcends distance.

This is what 2026 looks like for WaziCare+: bold, adaptive, unstoppable.

The statistic of 530 maternal deaths per 100,000 live births ends with us. Not someday. Now.