Imagine waking up in one of the hottest, driest places on earth. The kind of heat that sits on your skin all day and follows you into the night. In Turkana County, rain is unreliable, droughts are prolonged, and survival is a constantly shifting target. Families depend on pastoralism, which means life is built around one constant question: Where is water? Where is pasture?

And when the answer changes, everything changes. You move again, pack what you can again and search again.

If you are a school-going child, this life can quietly steal your education. School becomes an act of effort, not routine. Classrooms are scarce. Journeys are long, meaning hours under the sun. And in communities where livestock is a livelihood, boys may be kept at home to herd. Girls may be married off early. Women, too, often face limited livelihood options in a harsh environment where agriculture is risky and water scarcity makes even basic daily life a negotiation.

For decades, these realities have pushed many communities toward dependence on food aid, not because people don’t work hard, but because the environment can make hard work feel like running uphill with no end.

That is the Turkana I stepped into in mid-December 2025 as a filmmaker and photographer from Strathmore University, invited to document something different unfolding in the middle of this tough landscape.

Something hopeful.

Another Kind of Future

A team of Strathmore University alumni, staff, and local and international partner volunteers came together for a volunteering camp that takes place every year just before Christmas, dubbed “another kind of Christmas.”

And honestly, the name fits.

Because what they bring isn’t just supplies, though those matter, they also bring personalised attention, mentorship, skills training, and a strong, stubborn belief in the potential of every young woman.

The camp represents a long-standing partnership between Strathmore University, Girls on Fire Leaders, and Another Kind of Future, brought to life by volunteers travelling from the United States, Europe, South America, and Kenya. By returning to the same community year after year, these volunteers have fostered lasting relationships built on trust and consistency.

Inside a classroom in a local school run by a Catholic mission, a group of girls were fully alive, laughing, singing, responding, and leaning into the moment. Leading the session was Eileen Flannigan, the founder of Girls on Fire Leaders, joined by alumni from the programme who had travelled from Nairobi to mentor the local school girls.

The conversation moved through themes such as mental well-being, leadership, self-worth, and community service. And as I listened, it became clear why these sessions matter so much here. After the session, I spoke with one of the Girls on Fire Leaders alumni from Nairobi, Lencer, who reminded me that sometimes the first gift you give is permission to dream.

“These sessions can genuinely change a girl’s life. I know because I was once that young girl too. I joined Girls on Fire Leaders back in 2014 when I was in Grade 4, and it shaped the direction of my life. Many of us alumni come from humble backgrounds, so when we meet the girls in Turkana, we see ourselves in them. That’s why we came. We came to help them believe their struggle is not the end of their story, and that their dreams are still valid.”

Her words stayed with me because they carried truth in two directions. She was speaking to the girls and also speaking through them.

Mentorship That Moves Beyond the Classroom

In the days that followed, I joined the Girls on Fire Leaders team as they turned encouragement into action.

They visited the elderly in the community. They donated and planted fruit trees at a community farm irrigated by the Catholic mission. They travelled with Turkana students who are now part of Girls on Fire Leaders to a neighbouring village to inspire more girls and meet proud parents.

Then came the certificate ceremony for newly graduated Girls on Fire Leaders.

That day surprised me.

Some of the newest girls, the ones who had barely spoken in the first sessions, stepped onto the stage and addressed their peers boldly. They shared their experiences and dreams. They spoke like girls who had been seen.

And as I watched the alumni standing beside them, it hit me. These were girls who once sat where the younger ones were sitting. They once received mentorship — and now they were university students giving back.

Their journey was proof that personalised attention is not a slogan.

It’s a spark.

After the ceremony, Eileen reflected on what this transformation looks like over time:

“What I’ve witnessed over the years is beyond anything I could have imagined. Seeing the very first girls, who started when they were about nine or ten, now in college, standing next to today’s high school girls, creates a powerful bridge. It makes the future feel real. It shows the younger girls, ‘This can be you too.’ That connection alone has been deeply inspiring.”

The Women: Beads, Business, and Quiet Power

Just a few metres from the school, another story was unfolding. One that didn’t need a stage, but deserved one.

A group of local women had gathered to learn beading skills. Their hands moved with rhythm and precision as they created ornaments that were beautiful, market-ready pieces that carry both culture and income.

To support livelihoods, Strathmore University alumni have been working with this group for years, linking them to a professional trainer, helping them strengthen design consistency, and connecting them to markets so that their work becomes a regular income, not occasional luck.

I watched alumni like Rachel, visiting Turkana for the first time, share lessons on leadership, business skills, and financial planning and then flip roles to become a student again, learning beading from the women.

“I’ve always cared about seeing women entrepreneurs in rural Kenya thrive, but being here has made it real in a way I didn’t expect. When women are supported to turn their skills into income, it changes the entire household. And on a personal note, I’ve genuinely enjoyed learning beading from them.”

Christina, from the Strathmore University Alumni Office, spoke with the clarity of someone who has watched consistency create results.

“Turkana is remote, yes. But that’s exactly why we felt we had to show up. Since 2018, we have mobilised our alumni network and international partners to grow initiatives like this beading programme and our education support. When you strengthen women economically, you’re lifting families, and you begin to see the community shift in real time.”

Then Mary, one of the beading women and the chairlady of the group, put it in the simplest terms, the kind that makes you swallow before you respond.

“Before this programme, many of us would spend days at home with little to do and no stable way to support our families. Now we have meaningful work. We are earning income. We have been trained properly, and these beading skills will stay with us even beyond this project. What makes me proud is that we can also teach other women here, so the impact continues.”

As I left them experimenting with new design patterns, based on client feedback, I realised this wasn’t just a “women’s group.”

It was dignity being rebuilt, bead by bead, in a place that the world often forgets.

The Power of Volunteering

Back at the mission compound, I spent time with other Strathmore alumni, staff, and international volunteers running mentorship and revision sessions for local high school students, especially in Mathematics and English.

In Turkana, the odds are stacked against them. Literacy rates are lower than the national average, and the transition to higher education is a steep climb. These sessions were about giving students a fighting chance, and reminding them they’re not alone in the struggle.

One local girl, Cecilia, dreams of becoming a fashion designer and is currently studying in Kitui. She returned to Turkana to mirror possibility for the next generation.

“I’m from here, just like them, so I understand what it feels like to doubt your future. The mentorship and support I received through this initiative helped me see a different path and pursue my studies. I came back because I want the girls to know it’s not a fantasy. It’s possible. Their background doesn’t have to limit their destination.”

Another Strathmore alumna, Tiffany, had just finished a revision session in mathematics and leadership when she shared this with me.

“Volunteering here felt natural because I love teaching and I have seen how knowledge shared at the right time can change someone’s confidence completely. The Form 4 students I have worked with are preparing for their 2026 national exams, and their enthusiasm has been incredible. I may not fix everything, but if I help one student believe in themselves and improve, that’s already a big win.”

That line hit me because it’s easy to look at Turkana and feel overwhelmed by the heat, the distances, the systemic challenges. But volunteering doesn’t start by solving everything. It starts by showing up for someone.

International volunteers felt the same. Paula, from Colombia, came all the way to teach Biology and Chemistry and lead personal development workshops.

“Being here feels like a gift. To join hands with local and international volunteers, and offer my time and knowledge, is something I will carry with me for a long time. But I’m also receiving. I have learned from the people here: their resilience, their warmth, their joy. When mentorship is consistent, I truly believe transformation becomes inevitable.”

Leaving Turkana With Something I Didn’t Expect

After nine days in Turkana, the camp came to a close marking another year of “another kind of Christmas.”

And as we packed up, I realised Christmas here didn’t arrive wrapped in lights and shopping and noise.

It arrived wrapped in mentorship, education, opportunity and dignity.

As a filmmaker and photographer, I came to capture stories. But Turkana has a way of capturing you back, not with comfort, but with honesty. It shows you how hard life can be… and then it shows you how powerful community can become when people choose to care consistently.

I left with the impression that something is shifting here, slowly but surely.

And maybe that is what “another kind of future” looks like: not a miracle that drops from the sky, but a transformation built through presence, patience, and personalised attention, one girl, one woman, one classroom, one village at a time.

Article written by Victor Anyura