Love in Action: How a Children’s Home is Transforming Young Lives

Nairobi, March 01 – Stepping through the gate, a wave of warmth engulfs you. A chorus of excited voices erupts in unison, a cheerful and heartfelt welcome filling the air. Then come the warm, unreserved hugs from the children and their matron—tight, full of love. It is impossible not to be moved by such pure affection.

This is Flomina Children’s Home, tucked away in the Embakasi constituency along Manyanja road East of Nairobi City County. Here, love is not just spoken, but it is lived. A registered charitable organization, the home is more than a shelter; it is a haven where 69 abandoned or orphaned children have found solace, belonging, and an unconditional “family” support system. Every hallway echoes with laughter, every room tells a story of resilience and hope, and every child carries a dream nurtured within these walls.

The journey of this home began with just two children in 2002. Bishop Dr. Florence Mutinda, the founder, answered a call—both literal and spiritual—to provide a safe space for children who had nowhere else to turn. What started as a small effort of kindness to support vulnerable children, including those from the Kayole informal settlement, has blossomed into a beacon of hope, transforming countless lives over the past 23 years. Today, many of the children are taken in here by hospitals, especially from Mama Lucy Hospital and Kenyatta National Hospital, abandoned and picked up by police, and children welfare services.

The founder herself has endured heartbreak. “One day, I received a call that the two children we had sponsored to an international school had been sent home after the school shut down abruptly. To this day, it pains me. They can’t fit into any other curriculum, and many schools insist they must repeat classes. I simply can’t afford to put them back in a similar institution. It breaks my heart.” Such challenges have never deterred her from the home’s mission—to provide care, education, and love to every child who walks through its doors.

One of those children is Immaculate. Abandoned with no recollection of where she came from, she grew up in this nurturing space, facing the struggles of school fees and uncertainty. During high school, she was often sent back to the center when payments were overdue, yet she never gave up. With the support of well-wishers, she overcame the odds. Today, she is a wife, a young mother, and a proud success story. Yet, she has never forgotten her roots.

Her story is one among many. Over the years, children who once found refuge in this home have built lives beyond what they ever imagined. Some have joined the Kenya Army, others serve in the National Police Service, and many have ventured abroad, settling in countries like Qatar. The home’s mission is clear—to raise not just survivors but individuals who can thrive.

Sustaining such an endeavor is no small feat, the founder explains. To sustain itself and support its mission, the home has embraced various income-generating activities, including making briquettes as an alternative fuel source, mills and mixes animal feed for sale, and purifies water for distribution, while also relying on donations from well-wishers. Within the compound, a lone cow provides fresh milk for the youngest children—a small yet vital source of nourishment in a place where every resource is stretched to its limit. Yet, even with these efforts, the needs continue to grow as more children are brought in for shelter and a second chance at life.

But beyond these small comforts, some stories weigh heavily on the heart. One child we met was not born deaf. He had fallen ill, was taken to the hospital, and due to a tragic misdiagnosis, he lost his hearing. It was a stark reminder that, just like their daily needs, even their access to healthcare depends on the goodwill of others. Here, treatment is not about choice. It is about affordability, about whether a helping hand will come through in time.

A day at this home is an experience that stays with you forever. From the moment we arrived, we were welcomed with eager eyes and genuine affection. Breakfast was a communal affair, where little chats with kids to conversations with the management flowed effortlessly. One child, in the innocence only children possess, fixed their eyes on my earrings and admired them with such pure curiosity that it caught me off guard. Another, bolder in nature, asked, “Auntie, will you stay longer with us?”

Mealtime was more than just eating; it was a moment of togetherness and bonding. Preparing lunch became a lesson in teamwork, patience, and the imparting of life skills. The kitchen was alive with chatter and excitement. A tiny voice chimed, “I can roll chapatis, Auntie, please let me!” With unwavering determination, small hands clutched the rolling pin. Saying no was out of the question—I handed it over with a smile.

During lunch, we joined them in the dining area, where the spirit of community was unmistakable. They ate side-by-side, sharing stories and laughter. What stood out most was the natural bond among them—the older children instinctively caring for the younger ones. Teenagers cradled little ones, feeding them and rocking them to sleep as if they were their own siblings. One girl, Mitchell, held a tiny boy close. “Huwa anakataa watu,” she said, explaining his usual wariness of strangers. Yet, somehow, he had warmed up to me—a silent gesture of trust that spoke volumes.

As we moved through the compound, we met children whose eyes sparkled with curiosity and hope.  One of the most touching moments was when a little boy nestled into my arms, his small fingers clinging to my shirt as if seeking reassurance. It was in that moment that I realized something profound—these children, despite their past hardships, have found family in each other.

Beyond the meals, the day was alive with games, dancing, and laughter. The children sang, played, and eagerly showed off their talents, their joy shining through like sunshine after rain. For a moment, the weight of their past was forgotten. And for that day, we were not just visitors—we were part of their world.

As the sun began to set, the thought of leaving was almost unbearable. The home thrives on the kindness of strangers turned family—volunteers, donors, and people who simply show up. Whether through financial contributions, material support, or just spending time with these children, every effort matters. However, beyond financial support, time and presence mean just as much. A game of football, a shared meal, a listening ear—or even a simple prayer—can be enough to make a child feel seen, heard, and valued. This home, this sanctuary, stands strong because of love, community, and the belief that every child deserves a future filled with hope.

At the end of the day, I walked away with a heart full of warmth. I had come to see an institution, but I left having witnessed love in its truest form. Because Flomina Children’s Home is not just about giving. It is about shaping futures, one child at a time.