Berkley Center

Background: Sister MaryPauline Waititu, a psychologist and teacher, was deeply impressed as a young teenager by the kindness that a Catholic sister showed to a child who had disabilities. It played a part in the inspiration that has led her to devote her life and ministry to improving the lives of people and especially girls and women who live in vulnerable situations. In this conversation (by zoom) with Katherine Marshall on July 10, 2025, she described her professional and personal journey. She says that the central challenge facing people and families with disabled children is the limited human and material resources available to support them. A result is that many such children and adults are neglected and disregarded. She describes the girls with intellectual challenges she has supported through her fellowship capstone project, Maa Women Project, that focuses on building skills that will allow disabled girls and women to be self-sufficient. The discussion touched on the roles that sisters play vis a vis projects or institutions created and led by Catholic sisters. She also explored why people tend to trust the work of sisters, emphasizing the dedication to those who need support, their determination to follow through, and their willingness to do whatever it takes to make a project succeed. The focus on the mission entrusted to the sisters wins favor from people and builds important reservoirs of trust.

That simple act of love for someone so vulnerable etched itself into my heart. I thought, this is an Italian sister showing such tenderness for a poor, vulnerable African girl. It moved me in ways I could not fully express at the time. From that day forward, I knew: I wanted to do something for those who were vulnerable. That moment became one of the greatest inspirations for my calling to religious life.

Bio: Sister MaryPauline Waititu, LDSJ, belongs to the Congregation of the Little Daughters of St. Joseph – Kenya. She is a lecturer at the Catholic University of Eastern Africa, where she teaches psychology. She was part of the Women Faith Leaders Fellowship (WFLF) 2024-2025 cohort. A teacher by profession, she specialized in counseling psychology in her master's and doctoral studies. For the last 20 years, she has worked closely with people with disabilities and is currently working with girls who are intellectually challenged in Kajiado county. Her main task is to facilitate empowerment through capacity building and advocacy. She does this through vocational skills training to equip vulnerable young women to be self-reliant and by sensitizing local governments and communities on the need to protect the rights of women with disabilities and to fight stigma.

Good evening! We are reading about turbulent times in Kenya. Where are you and how are you doing?

I’m in Nairobi. Yes, there are problems here, with protests led by the young people, the Gen-Z. But these days the situation is calm. I believe these young people have a message they want to communicate. We are going to give them a listening ear.

To learn about you and your work, could you start by telling me a little bit about where you came from, your family, how you came to be a sister, and how you chose the congregation that you're part of?

I’m Sister Mary Pauline Waititu, born and raised in Nyeri, in the central part of Kenya, where I also did my schooling. When I was about 18, while in secondary school, we visited Olkalou Children’s Home in Nyandarua County. The home, run by Italian sisters, cared for children with disabilities, ranging from age from 3 to 25 years. What struck me most was their joy. Despite their physical challenges, they radiated happiness, confidence, and a deep sense of self-acceptance.

I realized this was the fruit of the love, care, and supportive environment the sisters provided. Established in 1971, the home has touched thousands of lives to this day. That visit left a lasting mark on me and played a key role in inspiring the person I am today.

That afternoon, something happened that would profoundly shape my life and eventually lead me to my religious vocation. We were playing outside with the children when the rain began to fall. Many of them were living with disabilities, some missing a leg or both, others without one or both arms. As the downpour grew heavier, those with crutches hurried toward the shelter of their classrooms, and I helped them get inside.

But far off at the edge of the field, one girl—about thirteen years old—remained seated, unable to move. She had no legs, and in the rush, none of us noticed her. It was an elderly Italian sister, seventy-five years old, who spotted the girl from a distance. The child’s small hands were raised in the air, calling for help under the pounding rain. Without a moment’s hesitation, the sister darted forward like an arrow released from a bow. She carried an umbrella, but it was clear that her focus was not on staying dry. Reaching the girl, she gently lifted her, cradling her like a newborn, with one arm, while the other hand held the umbrella over them both. In less than two minutes, the girl was safe and sheltered.

The scene struck me deeply. That simple act of love for someone so vulnerable etched itself into my heart. I thought, this is an Italian sister showing such tenderness for a poor, vulnerable African girl. It moved me in ways I could not fully express at the time. From that day forward, I knew: I wanted to do something for those who were vulnerable. That moment became one of the greatest inspirations for my calling to religious life.

A year later, I joined a teacher’s training college where I trained to become a primary school teacher. At the age of 25 years, I joined the Congregation of Little Daughters of St. Joseph, the same congregation where I had witnessed the elderly sister rescuing the young girl from rain. My parents resisted my decision but I was so persistent that finally they gave in.
Last year, I celebrated 25 years since I joined this congregation. I am happy with the decision I made quarter a decade ago.

What has been your focus in the congregation [the Little Daughters of St. Joseph? Your degrees were in psychology?

In this congregation, I've been serving children with disabilities, mainly mental disabilities. 

I joined university later and I did my first degree. This was followed by a master degree in counseling psychology. I am a certified counselor and a lecturer in the university. I also engage myself in research and bringing to visibility works done by sisters in Kenya. Recently I did my PhD, where the research was on young women with intellectual disabilities in Kajiado county, Kenya.

This is what has pushed me to start the project for girls with mental disabilities. They are intellectually challenged and come from very poor backgrounds. They struggle to get basic human needs; this makes them more vulnerable. I've started a project with them to empower them with vocational skills so that they're able to live a more decent life and independent living. I also engage myself in research and bringing to visibility works done by sisters in Kenya.

And what is your work in Nairobi?

I am a lecturer in one of the universities in Nairobi, Tangaza University. Besides teaching, I have a project for girls with disabilities a place in the Diocese of Ngong around 35 kms from Nairobi city. In this project I work with another sister who follows the young women in my absence. The WFLF has greatly assisted the project with resources. Gradually it is helping the young women from around Kenya, and we look forward to see it impacting far and wide.

How are children with these kinds of disabilities treated in different cultures in Kenya? What happens to a girl who's born, maybe with a disability of no legs, but also mental disabilities? Are there different traditions and different groups?

In Kenya, the upbringing of a child with a disability often depends heavily on the family’s socio-economic status. In families that are more informed and financially stable, children with disabilities are taken for rehabilitation, receive medical care, and attend private special schools where they get individualized attention. In such environments, they are encouraged to discover and nurture their abilities, supported by adequate resources and specialized teachers.

For children from poor backgrounds, the reality is very different. Many parents and communities see them as a burden or even an outcast. Since most Kenyan families live below the average income level, affording rehabilitation or private special education is out of reach. These children often end up in under-resourced government special schools, where they receive minimal support. They may stay in the same class for years without meaningful progress, and vocational skills are rarely taught. Eventually, frustration sets in, leading many to drop out.

Back in the community, these young people face a high risk of sexual abuse and exploitation, with few opportunities for independence. Seeing this gap, I felt compelled to act. I began the MAA Women Project—a program to equip young women with practical vocational skills like basket weaving, hairdressing, beading, tailoring, dressmaking, decoration, and jewelry repair. The women meet twice a week for training, led by a skilled instructor and supported by a fellow sister. This initiative not only gives them skills for daily living but also restores dignity, hope, and the chance for a better future.

Is this a big problem in many parts of the country?

Disability is a significant challenge among children in Kenya, particularly in rural areas, where access to healthcare and awareness is often limited. The causes are varied, and many are preventable. Some children develop disabilities because their parents do not take them for routine immunizations - such as for polio - leaving them vulnerable to conditions that weaken their limbs for life. Others may suffer serious falls or injuries but never receive proper treatment, leading to permanent impairments. Meningitis, a disease that affects the brain, is another common cause, often resulting in difficulties with movement.

Certain disabilities are present from birth. Prolonged labor during delivery is a major cause of cerebral palsy, and giving birth at home without skilled medical assistance increases the risk. Accidents, whether on roads, at home, or in the fields also contribute. Some conditions, like autism, may not be preventable but still require early intervention and understanding.
Unfortunately, stigma within families is common. If one child in a family of four has a disability while the others do not, the child with the disability is often neglected, seen as a liability because they are perceived as unable to “perform” like the others. This neglect deepens the isolation and hardship they face, making awareness, care, and inclusion critical in addressing the plight of children with disabilities in Kenya.

Are Catholic sisters caring for many of these children?

The Catholic sisters are the ones who come in and take them as if they were their own children. They give them services, they take them to the hospital, if they need rehabilitation, an operation, and other treatment to have a decent life like any other human beings. The religious sisters continue to accompany them even at later ages, equipping them with skills for independent living. Sometimes the number is overwhelming, and they cannot meet all the needs. They do only what they can.

That's a wonderful story.
Yes, the sisters do great work.

You say the government does have special schools now?

In Kenya, the government runs special schools for children with disabilities, but these schools often provide little beyond a classroom and a teacher. Essential services, like vocational training, speech therapy, and occupational therapy, are simply not offered. Without these, children miss out on the skills they need for independence and self-reliance.

The burden falls entirely on the teachers, who are often alone in overcrowded classrooms. In such conditions, meaningful learning is almost impossible. Many teachers, despite their dedication, end up just “babysitting” the children until the school day ends.

The result is heartbreaking: students can remain in the same class for decades, with no progress and no path forward. In one of the special schools, I met a 33-year-old woman has been in the same class for 20 years. She grew into adulthood without ever being taught a practical skill, treated like a perpetual child.

I could not accept this. It is the reason why I started a program for women with intellectual challenges. She now learns hairdressing. Today, she can braid hair beautifully and with pride. For the first time, she has a skill that gives her both dignity and the possibility of earning a living. This is what every learner with intellectual challenge in a special class deserves. Empowering them with skills builds their self-efficacy.

That's so sad.
It's sad. It's pathetic situation. You wouldn’t like to imagine.

Can we go back to your family. How many children were you? Were you Catholic growing up?

I am the only girl in my family, the firstborn among five brothers, all of whom now have families of their own. I was brought up in a Catholic Christian family. Both my parents were teachers; now they are retired.

When I first told my family I wanted to join religious life, their reaction was an emphatic, “No, no, no, you’re not!” They refused outright, no matter how much I pleaded. But my calling was stronger than their resistance. I joined the convent without their permission. When the time came to take my vows, I knew I had to face them again. I went home and asked for their blessing. Reluctantly, and only half-heartedly, they agreed, realizing by then that I was determined and would not give up.

At the time, I was already a government-employed teacher, earning a salary. My family had counted on me to help support my brothers. Walking away from my career and income to join the convent felt, to them, like a betrayal. For five to seven years, they were deeply upset with me.

It was a painful struggle, choosing between the expectations of my family and the call I felt so clearly in my heart. But over time, they came to understand. Eventually, they not only accepted my decision but blessed me. That blessing, though long in coming, was worth every trial I faced. Twenty-five years down the line I am happy of the decision I made. I am fulfilled.

That’s another interesting story. Can you tell me a little about your capstone project.

My capstone project is called Maa Young Women Project. Maa stands for Maasai, a large community in Kajiado county. Maa is a young women project where we have a house for the sisters. And I have picked the girls, the young women with disabilities, and young women who have children but with low-education profile. I realized how difficult it is for them to live, the struggle they have even to get food at the table. People disregard them because they have disabilities. Some have big children and nobody cares. So, I started a project to help them to learn, to empower them with skills so that they can earn their daily life, and secondly, to become independent in life, not always borrowing. And then also to take steps to sensitize the community around them, to make them aware that these women have potential to do something great.

We started by teaching them skills. Skills for weaving, for knitting, for plating hair, dressmaking, and other skills. That's how we started. At the same time, we offer them formation program; talking to them about what it means to be a mother, parenting skills and basic human rights. Communication skills like how to express themselves confidently. I call it human formation. We meet twice in a week for four hours.

That’s also in Nairobi?

It's near Nairobi, in another county called Kajiado 35 kms from Nairobi city.

Are you able to continue the project?

Yes, the call to continue is louder. I hope and trust that I will get more resources to continue impacting on the lives of the vulnerable women. With the money I got from the capstone, we have constructed a class and bought sewing machines for tailoring, bought materials for weaving, knitting and beading. We are also training girls on hair braiding. The little products we get, we sell, we roll it back in the project and we carry on. We are continuing. We have been going for more than nine months.

That's very good news. I have one last question. We are quite focused these days on challenges of rebuilding trust. Some of the sisters focus on the loss of trust in the government because of corruption issues. Is that a topic that concerns you in your work? People do trust the sisters, and I think it's for the same reason you said, and the Church, perhaps not as much.

In my 25 years as a Catholic sister, I have seen firsthand the deep trust and hope that local communities in Kenya place in religious sisters. People know that if they entrust a sister with 100 shillings to help a child, every coin will go to that child’s needs. When resources are given for a project, they are used for exactly that purpose, no diversion, no corruption.

Sadly, this stands in stark contrast to the reality in many government systems, where corruption is rampant. Too often, if you give a government official 100 shillings to buy a book for a needy child, they might spend 20 shillings on the book and pocket the remaining 80. This culture of misuse has eroded public trust in official channels, making people turn to the sisters with confidence.

Because of this trust, communities often request that sisters run schools, hospitals, and children’s homes. The government, recognizing the positive impact of these institutions, generally supports them by granting licenses and waiving certain taxes, though rarely providing financial aid. They know these projects genuinely serve the people.

One of the reasons for this enduring trust is the stability of sister-run initiatives. Even if a sister is transferred, the work continues. People have seen it time and again, projects like hospitals, schools, and children’s homes thriving for decades. They know these initiatives are “people-driven,” focused entirely on the growth and well-being of the community.

Another reason is the personal sacrifice sisters are willing to make. A sister might walk 10 kilometers to raise funds for a school, or even 50 kilometers to gather support for a hospital or children’s education. This level of commitment deeply moves people, it shows that the sisters’ mission is not just about service, but about giving their all for the sake of others.

In a country where trust is often scarce, the sisters have become a beacon of integrity, compassion, and hope, a proof that when service is grounded in love, it can transform the entire nation.