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The Privilege I Didn’t Know I Had

by | May 21, 2025 | Uncategorized | 0 comments

Growing up, with access to education at my fingertips, I often took for granted the impact a quality education had in my life. I had good teachers, like-minded peers, transportation, free hot meals, a great building to learn in, and so much more. This is not the case for many girls in the third world.

In Kenya and similar places, while progress has been made, there are still significant gaps in the fight for equality in girls’ education. Most families still place higher value on boys as future breadwinners, and girls are often expected to care for siblings, manage household duties, or marry young. As a result, their education is pushed aside — not because they lack ability or ambition, but because the odds are stacked against them.

Globally, 129 million girls are out of school — including 32 million of primary school age and 97 million of secondary school age (UNESCO, 2023). In Sub-Saharan Africa, the region with the highest rates of educational exclusion, 9 million girls aged 6–11 will never set foot in a classroom, compared to 6 million boys.

Even when girls start school, many do not finish. In rural Kenya, barriers such as poverty, menstruation without access to hygiene products, long travel distances to school, early pregnancy, child marriage, and gender-based violence are daily realities that prevent girls from staying in class. According to UNICEF, 1 in 4 girls in Kenya is married before the age of 18, and many drop out of school as a result.

Yet when a girl is educated, everything changes — for her, her family, and her community. Educated girls are more likely to marry later, earn a better income, and raise healthier children. One additional year of schooling can increase a woman’s earnings by up to 20% (World Bank). Girls who complete secondary school are three times less likely to contract HIV and far less likely to suffer abuse or exploitation.

Education is not just a privilege; it’s a lifeline.

When we invest in girls’ education, we don’t just open books — we open doors. We break cycles of poverty and empower a new generation of leaders, mothers, businesswomen, and world-changers.

Let’s not take that lightly.

Let’s fight for her future.

Bellah in her graduation gown and Delta                                                                               Bellah in High School     

LETTER TO MY YOUNGER SELF
FROM: Bellah Oguma

Dear Younger Me,

I see you — small, quiet, full of questions you’re afraid to ask and dreams that feel too big for the place you’ve grown up in. Life in the orphanage doesn’t make anything easy, and most days, it feels like the odds are against you. But I’m writing from a future you helped build — one shaped by your courage, your determination, and your refusal to give up. I know things feel heavy right now — like every step forward in school is uphill, and sometimes it’s hard to see why any of it matters. But I’m writing to tell you: education is worth the fight. Even on the days when it feels like the world is stacked against you.

There were moments when you were tired of proving yourself. When the effort didn’t seem to match the reward. When you were wondering if you’re smart enough, strong enough, or simply enough. But I promise, every late night, every test you worried about, every time you kept going when you wanted to quit — it adds up. It shaped you.

Education felt like your only way out — and it was. But it was never just a way out — it became a path through. From your early days in the orphanage, through a district school, and then the weight of having to repeat your 12th grade year just to get a chance at the university, you never stopped. You fought for every grade, every opportunity. And eventually, you made it.

You got into university. You started studying law — the career you used to only dream about. You found a way, even though money was tight, and you studied on sponsorships your entire life. It has been by the grace of God. Behind every call back home, you hid the truth — you faked being okay so your family wouldn’t worry more. You shared your stipend with your parents and even helped pay hospital bills for your younger brother. You became the provider for two families, making sure supper was on the table both where you were and back home.

You took on a responsibility heavier than most, almost like the first child and head of the family, all while balancing university demands. The criticism for being a young mother on campus cut deep, and the withdrawal, both emotional and financial, was a lonely path. Late nights spent studying for project work often left you exhausted, but the urge to find a job to support yourself and your family never left your mind. Sometimes, the burden was so overwhelming that you avoided conversations about your background because it felt like too much to carry.

But through it all, you persevered.

And today, despite every challenge, you are a certified Court Annexed Mediator and a qualified law graduate. You’re standing on the threshold of admission to the bar, ready to start the next chapter of your journey. The woman you’ve become carries every sacrifice, every tear, every sleepless night — and turns them into strength.

Education wasn’t just a fight for a certificate. It was a fight for your dignity, your family, and your dreams. And it was worth every battle.

Hold onto that, little one. Your story is far from over — and the best is yet to come.

With endless love and pride,
Your Older Self