Holding onto hope, with heavy hearts. 💕
This August, as many Kenyan children bundled off for the long school holiday, horrifying headlines began to roll in.
An AMREF air ambulance, Cessna 5Y-FDM plummeted into a Mwihoko neighborhood. Obliterating homes and killing six people, including at least one child on the ground.
Two days later an accident occurred with a funeral‐bus in Kisumu County. Reports say 26 mourners died when the vehicle overturned on August 8. Among the victims was a 10‑year‑old girl.
In the same week, a staff shuttle bus at a Naivasha rail crossing was rammed by a train. At least eight people were killed.
And near Maai Mahiu on August 10, a trailer plowed into an ENA coach. Crashing two people, a mother and a child, among its 50 passengers.
All these unfolded as children were out of class. Enjoying the second term break. Yet many of them returned home to shattered families.
Such tragedies are raw and personal for parents.
From Kisumu, to Naivasha, and Kiambu, we have seen pictures of smoldering wreckage. Lines of plastic‐wrapped bodies, or the faces in mourning.
Each accident is a grim statistic. Behind each number is a household. A community. And a child who has suddenly lost a parent or sibling.
In Kisumu, for example, an entire village weeps.
“It feels like half the village is gone,” as one survivor said. Twenty-six villagers died in that bus crash. Many of them were from the same extended families. Many children were orphaned overnight. Their futures are now uncertain.
When such calamity strikes, we naturally rush to comfort grieving adults. In that human tide, the children can be forgotten.
Kids Grieve Differently
We often think adults process grief slowly, but children do it in spurts. A five-year-old might cry one moment and play the next. While a teenager might internalize pain or act out.
One counselling psychologist explains that “young children don’t fully understand the concept of death”. To them, death isn’t abstract. It is confusing and scary.
Explaining plainly that “when someone dies, their body stops working and they won’t come back” helps them grasp the permanence.
Older kids can ask blunt questions:
“Is mummy really gone forever?” or “What happens to them now?” Both deserve honest answers, not euphemisms. Saying someone is “sleeping” or “went far away” can make kids fear bedtime or abandonment.
In fact, many children have never attended a funeral. They don’t know what a coffin is, or that friends and family gather to say goodbye.
A grief counselor once noted that some children imagine funerals with improvised metaphors. The mortuary becomes a “big fridge where dead bodies are kept… so they don’t rot”.
Remarkably, when gently taught, children can draw these scenes. Or even prepare mock letters to their loved one. I once helped bereaved children draw coffins. Write farewell notes. And participate in the eulogy writing process.
These exercises might sound strange to adults. But they help kids externalize feelings and achieve closure.
Unlike adults, who often show grief by pooling together (hugs, tears, shared meals), children grieve in fits and starts. They may seem fine in school, then suddenly break down at home.
They play one moment then burst into tears. 😭
Sleep changes. Some may cling to parents, others withdraw. Importantly, children never stop needing love and routine.
While adults might mourn communally over weeks, kids want their normal small-world back: dinner on time, bedtime stories, lunchbox jokes.
When tragedy upends their world. Keeping familiar routines (even as they adjust) can be a subtle comfort.
Forgotten Ones at the Funeral
Too often in these crises, children are simply assumed to be strong or unaffected. Pastor Elizabeth Obat, a children’s pastor and grief counselor, warned that “kids are the forgotten lot during loss and grief”.
She observed that adults will circle around a grieving widow or widower. But rarely ask “and what about the orphaned children?” This occurs even in extended families.
Relatives may gently shoo a young boy away. Saying “men don’t cry, you’re strong”. But such platitudes hurt.
Pressuring a child to ‘be brave’ can teach them to bottle up feelings. These bottled-up emotions may erupt later as anger or despair.
In these communities, the toll is palpable.
In Nyakach (Kisumu), dozens of mourners boarded a 20-km bus ride home when disaster struck. Among the 54 passengers on that bus was an 18-month-old toddler . One of the youngest victims.
Tragedy wiped out entire households.
One village elder said not only church leaders died, but scores of relatives. Now dozens of children sleep fatherless or motherless. One 18-year-old survivor laments holding only photos of her late parents.
The bus crash alone left at least four families with no adults at all in the home. Imagine your village school playground. In nearly every class, a parent is lost. Someone has lost a sibling. Or a friend’s mum or dad is missing.
When parents pass away, children often mask grief with abnormal behavior. Skipping school, anger outbursts, nightmares, or regression (bed wetting, clinginess). These can signal complicated grief, but communities rarely watch for them.
Funerals are dominated by adult rituals. Kids often tag along silently or wait at home until it’s “over.” Many funerals are loud and communal, with ululations and sermons that children can’t connect with.
But what about the quiet child at the back, tears shimmering unnoticed? As Pastor Elizabeth pointed out, most adults don’t appreciate that “kids need to grieve” too.
Real Stories, Real Loss
No graph conveys sorrow like a real story.
At the Mwihoko home, 12-year-old Yvonne Nasimiyu was calmly preparing lunch for her siblings. Then, news of the plane crash reached her mother.
Later, rescuers would pull two bodies from the rubble. An adult and a child. The child victim was likely Yvonne, the “next house” girl.
Elsewhere, Margaret Onyango surveyed her shattered Nyakach village. She said, “It feels like half the village is gone.” Behind her quiet gaze, “many children [are] orphaned overnight”.
And it’s not only fatalities. Countless children were injured. Burned by jet fuel. Broken by steel. Or scarred by loss. The Kisumu crash left 26 injured; in the Nairobi AMREF crash, dozens more survived with horrific wounds.
Their recovery, physical and emotional, will be another long journey.
Right now, some children are in hospitals. Asking when can I go home? Others are at home. Asking when will they come back? The questions may never fully resolve.
Speaking About Death: A Guide for Parents
Given this onslaught of tragedy, how can parents help their surviving children (or their friends’ kids) navigate the sorrow?
Experts recommend age-appropriate honesty and gentle guidance. That means explaining simply: “When people die, their bodies stop working and they cannot come back.”
For very young children (under 7), concrete language is key. One caregiver described: “On Day 1, we defined death in simple terms. It means stopping to breathe, closing eyes, and never talking, walking, or eating again.”
To a six-year-old, that clarity, even if painful, builds trust.
Parents can use analogies (like a flower that fades) but must stress finality. Reassure them the loved one’s last breath means goodbye for good.
Discuss the “afterlife” topics slowly. Respect family beliefs. In one counselling session with children, Day 2 focused on where the dead go. Depending on their faith, this could be heaven.
One teacher drew the mortuary as a big fridge.
A simple image to explain a cold room where bodies rest before burial. It sounds bizarre. But children colored it seriously. White coffin and flowers.
They internalize these concrete lessons, which paradoxically reduce fear.
If a child asks “Will I see Grandma again?”, it’s OK to say “We hope so, one day”. However, mainly emphasize that grandma’s love and memories live on in their hearts.
Grief-Coping Strategies for Different Ages
Every child is different. But here are some specific, gentle strategies parents and caregivers can use, adapted from grief experts for various ages:
- Toddlers (2–5 years): Keep routines steady. Use simple words to explain death. Let them express feelings through play and art.
- Young Children (6–10 years): Answer questions honestly, include them in simple memorials. Encourage drawing or writing farewell notes.
- Tweens (11–13 years): Talk openly about feelings. Provide outlets like writing or music. Watch for changes in schoolwork or behavior.
- Teens (14–18 years): Respect their need for space, encourage healthy expression, and gently support participation in goodbyes.
A few broad tips across all ages:
Be honest and gentle, use clear language, and listen patiently. Avoid platitudes like “Time heals everything” or “Be strong”. Instead say, “This is really hard, I’m here with you.”
Let children see adults crying too. It normalizes tears and shows grief is not shameful.
Admit when you’re sad or scared for them.
Pastor Elizabeth found that when the kids were supported, their mother felt safe mourning the loss. She felt safe while Pastor Elizabeth was attending to her children.
In other words, caring for kids’ grief frees parents to grieve as well.
Healing Together, Not Apart
Grief is not a race with a finish line. In these weeks after tragedy, parents may find themselves exhausted.
Juggling emotional support, organizing funerals, and still feeding and dressing their kids. It’s crucial to seek collective support.
Kenyan tradition often involves community well-wishing.
This should extend to children. Talk with neighbors, teachers, or church members. Ask them to check on bereaved kids. Encourage classmates to say kind words or draw them pictures.
On WhatsApp groups, parents can discuss how their children are reacting.
Be mindful of language. Discourage silence around the subject.
If a child asks “Am I next?” (a common fear), reassure them repeatedly. Take care with anniversaries or birthdays now. These “firsts” without the loved one can re-open wounds.
Light a candle together. Plant a tree in memory. Or have a small ceremony at home. One day a counselor suggested writing a “bucket list” of things to do in honor of the deceased.
These can include visiting their favorite place or cooking their recipe. This activity gives children a sense of purpose and ongoing connection.
Remember to monitor signs of trouble.
If a child seems persistently depressed or anxious, seek help. Also, if trauma symptoms (nightmares, phobias, hyper-alertness) continue weeks after the events, consider seeking a professional child psychologist.
Counsellors with child expertise can provide play therapy or cognitive support. But even without formal help, parents empowered with understanding can do much.
For example, gently confront any stigma, such as “boys don’t cry.” Praise emotional honesty. Correct blame by saying “None of this was your fault, or anyone’s fault.”
Above all, keep loving them.
In Uganda, a counselor once said, “When parents held a grieving child, the child would feel safe again. A kiss from parents could help the child sleep.”
Physical affection; a hug, a back rub, a hand to hold, often conveys comfort words cannot. Letting a child fall asleep snuggled up with a parent for a night or two can help. It can break a cycle of fear.
Our Collective Responsibility
These August losses are a painful reminder that travel and even healing missions carry risk. But beyond blaming drunk or distracted drivers, police, or road conditions, we, as a society, must remember the silent victims.
Media coverage has focused on emergency responders and officials; on parliamentary debates about road safety; on memorial masses; all important.
Yet children’s grief needs its spotlight too.
Churches can invite pastors to speak to kids. Schools can reserve a moment for collective mourning or story-sharing. Local social media groups can post reassurance for youngsters.
Pastor Elizabeth gave me wise advice. “When adults close rank around the widow, someone’s got to keep an eye on the children.” We can do better.
Parents might organize small community gatherings after such events: kids’ own “grief circle” with drawing or sharing. Siblings can be encouraged to lean on each other. Sometimes an older brother comforts a six-year-old sister when mom’s still crying.
If you see a family walking slowly behind a coffin, offer a kind word to the child. Offering simple tea and biscuits can also brighten the darkest moment.
Grief is the price we pay for love.
It shows we once had something precious. In Kenya’s current sorrow, the price seems unbearably high. We can help children carry that love forward.
We do this by acknowledging their pain. Speaking truthfully with them. And offering steady support.
No checklist or book can magically erase their hurt. But each gentle conversation, each included ritual, and each warm embrace signals: you are not alone.
Where do we even start?
For many Kenyan families, the answer is difficult. It starts with saying each child’s name. Remembering their smiles and promising never to forget.
If our society can do one thing right in these dark days…
It should be this: to keep our gaze steady on the smallest mourners among us. We should walk hand in hand with them from sorrow toward hope.
Read other related stories
- @17 Days: Gone Too Soon, Loved Forever
- When Love Burns: Living Through the Fire of a Spouses’ Mental Breakdown
- Plight of the Widowed by COVID
- Child Suicide, A Society’s Concern 🙁
#Kenya #Childloss #GriefSupport #ParetingThroughLoss #RoadSafety #CommunityHealing #Hope
Sources: I used recent Kenyan news and reports to provide accident statistics and context. Insights on children’s grief and counseling come from Kenyan counseling case notes, and published accounts of the Kisumu accident. I used these to inform the age-appropriate guidance and narrative above.
Joseph Ngaara is inspired by people’s life experiences. Do you have an intriguing life story and need to share your triumph or tragedy? Email: j.mungai@hotmail.co.uk
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