IRENE CHEBET
My name is Irene Chebet. I come from Kasei in West Pokot near the Ugandan border. I am the fourth born in a family of five children and, at 25 years old, a mother to a 12-year-old son and a nine-year-old daughter.
I grew up wanting to go to school like other children, but my father told me to stay at home and look after livestock while my brother was educated instead. I was married off as a second wife at the age of 12. One moment I was still a child, and the next I was expected to become a wife, care for a home, and carry responsibilities far beyond my age and understanding.
My days were filled with tending the farm, fetching water, searching for food, and caring for the homestead, often with a child strapped to my back. There was little rest and little support. I remember one day gathering firewood uphill when I became so dizzy and weak that I had to stop and gather strength before continuing. What hurt me most was watching children my age go to school while I remained behind. They were learning, growing, and dreaming of becoming teachers and doctors, and I longed for that life too.
Even then, I did not completely lose hope. Together with two friends, I started a small beadwork business making bracelets and necklaces. We supported each other in turns, like a merry-go-round. My dream was to build a mabati house and leave behind the grass-thatched home I lived in. But when I shared this idea with my husband, he told me everything I had belonged to him because he had paid dowry for me. In that moment, I realized how little control I had over my own life. I decided then that this would not be my future.
I ran away to my sister in Makutano town. Leaving my children behind in the care of their paternal grandmother was painful, but I knew my life would never change if I stayed. I begged my sister to let me stay with her because I wanted to return to school. Through her support and the help of a kind headteacher, I was taken to a rescue center in Morpus where I could continue my education safely.
Returning to school was not easy. I was older than many of the students and had experienced things very different from them. But I was determined not to lose the opportunity I had been given. I worked hard, performed well in my KCPE, and later joined secondary school. Along the way, I met people who believed in me, including Madam Caroline, who encouraged me to keep going even during difficult moments.
After one year at the HER Lab Centre in West Pokot studying electrical installation, I graduated and am now doing my industrial attachment. I chose this course because I was always told electrical work was for men and too difficult for women. But I kept asking myself, if men can do it, why can’t I? I learned how to install lighting systems, sockets, solar panels, alarms, and motors for pumping water and running posho mills. I also gained computer skills that I know will support me in many areas of life.
Beyond technical training, the greatest change in my life has been the confidence I now carry. Through safeguarding support, my teachers, and guidance sessions with our counselor Lillian, I learned how to cope during overwhelming moments, especially when I received difficult news about my children’s health.
HER Lab also became a space where we reflected deeply on dignity, respect, and the kind of lives we want to build for ourselves and our communities. In a podcast conversation with fellow graduates, we spoke about dignity as being valued regardless of background and about the importance of supporting others. We reflected on women entering spaces traditionally seen as belonging to men, especially in fields like electrical installation. I see dignity as connected to education, independence, and the courage to choose a different future.
At HER Lab, I also found something I had not known before: friendship and sisterhood. My best friend Ruth became a great source of strength for me. We come from similar backgrounds and understand each other deeply. When one of us feels discouraged, we remind each other that our lives are changing and that the future ahead will be better than what we left behind.
In my free time, I enjoy beadwork. It brings me peace and joy. I make bracelets and necklaces, and I also enjoy teaching others in my community so they too can find ways to support themselves.
Looking ahead, I want to become a nurse, specifically a midwife. This dream comes from my own experience of giving birth to my first child at 13 years old at home without proper medical care. It was traumatic, and I nearly lost my life. When I had my second child at a hospital in Kapenguria, I experienced proper care and dignity for the first time. That experience inspired me to pursue nursing so I can help other women and newborns remain safe during childbirth.
Today, when I think about my children, I know their future will be different from mine. They will both go to school, grow, and choose their own paths in life. That cycle ends with me.
If I were to describe the impact of the HER Lab program in one word, I would call it “rebirth.” HER Lab gave me a second chance at life. My voice, once silenced, now carries strength, confidence, and hope for the future I am building for myself and my children.