I never believed in climate change — now I know it's real: Roseline’s wake-up call
Roseline Anyango, a resident of Mathare in Nairobi in this picture taken on September 9, 2024. Her house and 16 rental units were damaged by the floods in April 2024, then later demolished by the government in May for being too close to Nairobi River.
What you need to know:
- Roseline Anyango, a resident of Nairobi's Mathare slum, lost her home and livelihood to devastating floods, only to face further loss from government demolitions.
- Despite these setbacks, she refuses to give up, working tirelessly to rebuild her life and small business.
Roseline Anyango's weathered hands trembles as she traces the invisible waterline on her living room wall.
"It came up to here," she whispers, her eyes distant, reliving a nightmare that began exactly four and a half months ago. The 43-year-old mother of six had called Mathare, one of Nairobi's largest informal settlements, home for two decades. Never in those years had she imagined that the Nairobi River, a constant backdrop to her life, would become the architect of her undoing.
On that fateful night of April 24, 2024, the skies opened up with a fury that she had never witnessed before. The rains that had been pounding the city for days finally breached the river's banks, sending a torrent of murky water rushing through the narrow alleys of Mathare 4A. Roseline's two-room concrete house, a symbol of her hard-earned stability, stood helplessly in its path.
"I couldn't believe my eyes," she recalls, her voice barely audible.
"The water just kept coming, filling every corner of our home. It was like a bad dream I couldn't wake up from."
In a panic, Roseline called her husband, a boda boda rider who was out working. "I told him to rush back home," she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "We tried to save what we could, but the water was too fast, too merciless."
Within an hour, their home was submerged. They managed to salvage a few precious items before the flood claimed everything else. They trudged through the rising water, their belongings balanced precariously on their heads, making their way to higher ground at the TJ Kajwang' Market.
Read also: Floods expose gaps in disaster preparedness
The open field at the market became an impromptu refugee camp for hundreds of displaced families.
Her heart ached as she distributed her four younger children among neighbours whose homes had been spared. "It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do," she admits, her voice cracking. "But I had to keep them safe, even if it meant sending them away."
A view of what was left after the floods that swept away houses built on riparian land in Mathare 4A, Nairobi on May 7, 2024.
For two weeks, Roseline and her husband slept under the open sky. The cold seeped into their bones, a constant reminder of the warmth they had lost. But even in those dark moments, a flicker of hope remained.
President William Ruto's visit to Mathare in early May seemed like a lifeline. His promise of Sh10,000 for each affected family ignited a spark of optimism in her heart. "We thought things would get better," she says, a wry smile playing on her lips. "We were so naive."
When the waters finally receded in mid-May, she returned to her house, only to find it a shell of its former self. The furniture she had painstakingly acquired over the years was ruined beyond repair. With heavy hearts, she and her husband sold what they could to a nearby carpentry shop for a fraction of its worth.
"It was like starting from scratch," Roseline sighs, her eyes scanning the now-sparse room. "But we had each other, and we had hope. That's all that mattered."
Combining their savings with the government aid, they began the arduous task of rebuilding their lives. They repaired what they could and slowly started replacing lost items. Roseline even secured a small loan from her women's merry-go-round group to reopen her small hotel business, which had been a cornerstone of their livelihood.
For a brief moment, it seemed as though the worst was behind them. Roseline dared to dream of a future where her 16-unit rental property in Mathare 4A would once again provide a steady income. She envisioned her children returning home.
But fate had other plans.
Barely two weeks after settling back into their home, the roar of bulldozers shattered the morning calm. Her heart sank as she saw the massive machines lumbering towards the riverbank, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.
"Houses and structures built within 30 metres of the river were to be demolished immediately!" The announcement cut through the air like a knife, leaving the residents of Mathare 4A in shock.
Roseline watched in horror as the bulldozers approached her freshly renovated house and rental units.
"My heart almost stopped," she recalls, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I was too dazed to speak. My life was changing right before my eyes, and the El Niño is to blame. I never thought that it would take a few days of unending rainfall to lose everything that I have sweated for in the past two decades."
In a matter of hours, everything she had worked so hard to rebuild was reduced to rubble. The woman known affectionately as "Chairlady" by her neighbours found herself transformed from a proud landlady to a tenant overnight.
"The sadness... it's overwhelming," she admits, her eyes distant. "Sometimes I wake up at night, thinking I hear the bulldozers coming again. The anxiety, the depression... it's a constant battle."
Roseline's story is far from unique in Mathare. Thousands of residents, particularly in Mathare 4A and Kosovo areas, suffered the double blow of flooding and subsequent demolitions. The community, already struggling to recover from nature's fury, now faced the wrath of government policy.
Irene Nyambega a Mathare resident on September 9, 2024. She hosted more than ten children at her house after their houses were destroyed by floods in April.
Irene Nyambega, another resident of Mathare, opened her tiny shack to dozens of displaced children during the crisis.
"It was a time of crisis," Irene explains, her eyes reflecting the memory of those chaotic days.
"Had I been living next to the river, I would have suffered the double tragedy just like everyone else. For this reason, we could not turn down any child. My house was turned into a dormitory for almost two weeks as we also organised to cook their meals donated to us by well-wishers."
While Irene's home was spared, she too, felt the sting of loss.
"I lost my entire kiosk and my stock to the floods," she says, her voice tinged with resignation. "But at least I could offer shelter to those who had lost everything."
David Oloo, a village elder and chairperson of the Mathare 4A area, speaks of the community's sense of betrayal.
"The German Embassy was issued with a title deed for this place that measures 18.5 acres in early 1990s," he explains, his brow furrowed in frustration. "It was then agreed that we would set up our homes some 15 metres from the river and not 30 metres as stated by the government when they demolished our homes."
The lack of notice before the demolitions left many families scrambling to save what little they had left.
"They didn't even give us time to get our things out," David says, shaking his head in disbelief. "It was like they wanted to erase us completely."
David Oloo, a village elder and chairperson of Mathare 4A community speaks on the effects of the floods and demolition of their houses by the government in May, 2024. Photo taken on September 9, 2024.
The floods that devastated Mathare were part of a larger climate crisis gripping Kenya. Despite early warnings, many leaders, including President Ruto, had initially dismissed the predictions of El Niño, characterising it as merely a season of heavy rainfall. Nature, however, had other plans.
By mid-April, vast swathes of the country were submerged. According to data from the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) and the Natural Disaster Operations Centre (NODC), more than 306,520 people (61,304 families) were affected by the floods between March 1 and June 18, 2024. The human toll was staggering: 315 lives lost, 188 injured, 38 missing, and 293,200 people displaced.
The World Meteorological Organisation (WMO) attributed the catastrophic flooding to a perfect storm of climatic conditions: El Niño, coupled with the Indian Ocean Dipole and high sea surface temperatures. More ominously, they pointed to the excess energy trapped in the atmosphere and oceans by human-induced greenhouse gases as a major factor in turbocharging the extreme weather.
In the aftermath of the destruction, the government defended its actions, arguing that the demolitions were necessary to safeguard the riparian land from encroachment. But for residents like Roseline, these explanations rang hollow in the face of their immense loss.
A glimmer of hope emerged in September when President Ruto, visiting the Kibra slums in Nairobi, announced plans to construct 40,000 housing units for those displaced by the demolitions.
"Here in Nairobi, we are soon announcing the construction of 40,000 units to help settle those who were displaced by the government from the flood risk areas," he stated.
But for Roseline and many others, this promise feels distant and uncertain. The project could take years to complete, a timeframe that offers little comfort to those struggling to survive day by day.
Despite the overwhelming challenges, she refuses to give up. With the resilience that has carried her through two decades in Mathare, she is determined to rise again. Her husband has redoubled his efforts in his boda boda trade, working long hours to support the family.
The small hotel business Roseline reopened after acquiring a loan is struggling to break even. Many of her regular customers were displaced by the demolitions, leaving her with a dwindling clientele. Yet, she perseveres, serving steaming plates of ugali and sukuma wiki to those who remain, her smile never faltering even as worry lines her brow.
"For a long time, we kept hearing about climate change, and I never believed it," Roseline reflects, her gaze drifting towards the Nairobi River that had so drastically altered her life.
"What I experienced has changed my stance on these issues. If this river flooded as it did in April, then climate change is real. If we do not care for our environment, then nature will not do the same for us, it will obliterate us!"
