Wewe ni Customer?

Today, during Limb Loss Awareness Month, I took a matatu from my place to Charter Hall, where we were all supposed to meet for the awareness walk. 

It started like any other Nairobi morning loud, energetic, and full of movement. The matatu ride itself set the tone, music blasting, people half-awake but already pulled into the rhythm of the day.

By the time I got there, the atmosphere was already alive. The DJ had taken control of the mood, playing hit after hit, making sure no one had a chance to feel bored while we waited for the walk to begin. People were dancing, laughing, recording videos...it felt less like a formal event and more like a celebration.

The MC carried the energy even further. He was sharp, funny, and completely in control of the crowd. Every time he spoke, people listened. Every time he joked, people responded. You could tell he understood exactly how to keep people engaged.

Then came the speeches.

Different speakers took the stage, each sharing something meaningful about limb loss, awareness, and inclusion. There was a lot being said (important things) but if I’m being honest, I wasn’t fully locked in at first.

My attention drifted here and there, especially when Kabugi started asking random questions. They seemed light, almost playful, and I didn’t think much of them in the moment.

Then the rain came.

Not a warning drizzle,but full Nairobi rain. Within minutes, everything changed. The program had to pause, people scattered, and we had to quickly adjust. Instead of continuing as planned, we improvised. Someone suggested we do a short exercise session to keep the energy up and prevent people from just standing around in the cold.

It turned out to be one of the most unexpected highlights of the day.

Everyone joined in stretching, jumping, laughing. I have to say, my boss got it rough. She was picked twice in a row to lead parts of the exercise, and the crowd didn’t let her rest. It was one of those moments where discomfort turns into laughter, and laughter turns strangers into a team. But honestly, that’s a story for another day.

Eventually, just as suddenly as it had started, the rain stopped.

And with that, the day found its direction again.

We regrouped and began the walk through Nairobi. The energy was different now ,less chaotic, more connected. It felt like we had all gone through something together, even if it was just a downpour.

It was during that walk that I heard a story that completely shifted my perspective.

I found myself next to a lady who had lost a limb. There was nothing dramatic about how the conversation started...it was natural, simple. But as she spoke, you could feel the weight of what she had been through.

She talked about life after the loss...not just the physical adjustment, but everything else that comes with it. The stares from people. The assumptions. The way everyday things suddenly become difficult...transport, access to buildings, even just moving through crowded spaces.

Then she said something that stayed with me:

“Wewe ni customer.”

At first, it sounded like a casual statement. But she explained what she meant.

After losing her limb, she realized that in many situations, she had to start seeing herself differently...not as someone asking for help, but as someone with value. As a customer.

“If I am a customer,” she said, “then I deserve to be served properly. I deserve access. I deserve respect. I deserve to be considered.”

That statement changed everything for me.

I had always thought about disability in terms of sympathy...feeling sorry for someone, acknowledging that they’ve gone through something difficult. But what she was talking about wasn’t sympathy.

It was dignity.

It made me realize that the real issue isn’t always the disability itself...it’s the environment around it. The systems that don’t accommodate. The spaces that exclude. The mindset that sees people as less instead of equal.

We continued walking, but I wasn’t the same person I had been when the day started.

Everything I had ignored earlier...the speeches, the questions, even Kabugi’s “random” engagement—suddenly made sense. They weren’t random at all. They were trying to make us think, to challenge how we see things, to push us beyond surface-level understanding.

By the time we finished the walk, I had a new perspective.

Disability is not inability.

It is a different experience of the same world...one that demands more strength, more patience, and more resilience than most of us will ever have to develop.

And that phrase kept echoing in my mind:

“Wewe ni customer.”

Not someone to pity.

Not someone to overlook.

But someone who belongs. Someone who deserves. Someone who matters.

That day didn’t just raise awareness for me.

It changed how I see people.