On December 27, 2007, two different tribes in Kenya broke out in a wave of violence when two ethnic groups, Luo and Kikuyu, crossed political boundaries during a political election.

Peter Kithene, a UW graduate student in health administration and member of the Luo tribe, watched a clinic he set up in Kenya work through the violence.

“Lots of people voted for the Luo presidential candidate, but the candidate who belonged to the Kikuyo tribe rigged the election and won,” Kithene said.

It was dangerous to drive an ambulance to the hospital to transport patients. Rioting crowds would frequently break into vehicles and kill the passengers.

“We couldn’t get medical supplies from Nairobi, which is nine hours away from the clinic,” Kithene said. “We couldn’t drive our sick to the hospital, which is an hour and a half away.”

Violence erupted between the Luo and the Kikuyu tribes. Houses were consumed in flames, burglary spread and several Kikuyu tribal members were killed.

“I saw distant neighbors’ houses set on fire,” said Jannette Kibogy, a UW graduate student in the field of Public Health and member of the Kalenjin clan of Kenya. “It was so unfortunate to see that, because they lived in that area for 30 years before I was born.”

During this outrage of violence, employees and patients at the Mama Maria health clinic were put in jeopardy.

“The Luo came looking for my project manager ... because he is a Kikuyu, but he ran off to the police station,” Kithene said. “[He] had to leave the community and go to a community that was much more friendly.”

“This is the worst outbreak we’ve ever faced,” Kibogy said.

Mama Maria’s beginnings

Although it didn’t become reality until much later, the idea for Mama Maria stemmed from Kithene’s family’s trouble with inaccessibility to medical care, beginning when he was young.

When a member of Kithene’s family became infected, all there was to do was hope, pray and wait. He grew up with little access to water, no electricity and little food. Kithene spent the first 12 years of his life in a rural, secluded village called Muhuru Bay, Kenya. From a family of 10 siblings, Kithene lost six to disease.

Not only did he lose several brothers and sisters, but both parents became infected with disease and died as well. As a result, Kithene was forced to care for his three younger siblings. Luckily, the kids were taken in by their father’s mother, who lived in a neighboring village.

Kithene’s hopes of continuing school had come to a halt. The family couldn’t afford medical treatment, let alone education for his siblings.

His relatives tried to discourage him from attending school. They would tell him it was a waste of time, and that he needed to help his three younger siblings. Yet Kithene believed the best way he could help them was to get an education. The only place he could go was in Nairobi, which was nine hours away.

With that in mind, he decided to depart from the village and move in with his grandmother on his mom’s side of the family. There he was able to attend the Starehe Boys Center in Nairobi, known as the best school in the country.

Starehe is the only school in Kenya that offers free education, but the application is competitive. Kithene said he got in because of his high grades.

When Kithene was in the seventh grade, he met a couple from the United States volunteering in his grandmother’s village. He became close friends with the couple, who suggested he try attending a school in the West.

Winning two scholarships, Kithene took their advice. In 2001, he was accepted into the UW. The couple also gave him financial support. While attending the UW, Kithene set his mind on starting the affordable medical clinic in Muhuru Bay, Kenya near Lake Victoria.

He wanted to help poor families in rural communities. Hard work and funding from small organizations helped in preparation for the opening of the clinic. August 16, 2005 marks the founding of Kithene’s Mama Maria health clinic, in rural southeastern Kenya.

“I went over in November as a board member to do an operational audit of the clinic,” said Vicky Isett, a board member at the clinic. “I wanted to make sure that the funds were being used in the way that we had designated them to be used.”

Her intent was to provide facilities that were accessible and reasonably priced. “We only charge children 100 shillings for treatment, which is equivalent to $1.30 in America. If someone cannot afford this, we will do the treatment free, no questions asked,” Isett said.

Kithene visits the clinic about twice a year and for longer periods during the summer. Though his success is gratifying, he has to live with the memory of sick, diseased, dying children, which can be daunting.

“I remember this mother who brought her burned son into the clinic. The boy had spilled a tin lamp full of parifin and got a [third] degree burn all over his body. The family was unable to get across Lake Victoria to take the boy here, so it had been two days since he was burned. By this time the burns were horrible. We had to transport him to the hospital and luckily he made it,” Kithene said.

The clinic sees 30-60 patients per day and is the only clinic within a 40-mile radius. The hospital takes about an hour and a half to get to from the clinic, and Nairobi is a nine-hour trip. The clinic receives its pharmaceuticals and medical supplies from Nairobi.

Even though the clinic is a blessing for many families, Kithene said there are times when the work is not as joyous.

“There was this girl who was so sick. She had a kidney disease of some sort. We transported her to the hospital where they gave her several IVs,” Kithene said. “It was too late. I watched her die.”

[Reach reporter Chenelle Tyack at features@thedaily.washington.edu.]