From obstetric fistula to independence: Berhane’s recovery story 

Unlike many girls in rural Ethiopia, Berhane had the opportunity to stay in school and complete her lower secondary education. She married her husband at age 23 and says: “Our life together started with so much hope.”

When she became pregnant that same year, Berhane did everything she could to protect her baby’s health. Despite the distance, she regularly attended prenatal appointments.

“The journey to the nearest health centre was a long, arduous two-and-a-half-hour walk,” she says. “I would walk down the long paths very slowly and carefully, making the trek regularly to ensure my baby was healthy.”

But when her labour began, everything had changed.

“The war in Tigray broke out, and we were thrust into terrifying, chaotic circumstances,” Berhane explains. “There were no proper medical supplies, and very few doctors were left at the hospital in Hawzen.”

Berhane spent three days in labour, her strength fading. Hospital staff did what they could, giving her simple porridge and fluids, but they were working under wartime shortages and without the medical supplies they needed.

“Because they were struggling under wartime shortages, they had to deliver my baby girl using a vacuum extractor, pulling her out manually,” she says.

Her baby survived. But Berhane was left with severe internal injuries.

“I developed a double fistula, leaving me completely unable to control both my urine and my stool.”

The physical injury was devastating, but the emotional impact was just as painful.

“The aftermath of the childbirth was an absolute nightmare,” Berhane says. “While the faecal incontinence was later successfully healed, the urinary leakage completely upended my life. I had never heard of a condition called obstetric fistula, and I had absolutely no idea that medical treatment even existed for it. I truly believed I was cursed to live this way forever.”

Like many women living with untreated obstetric fistula, Berhane experienced stigma, shame and isolation. Her marriage broke down and she returned to live with her ageing parents.

For two years, she lived in deep sorrow.

“I would sit alone in a separate room, away from the rest of my family, constantly washing myself and crying in secret,” she says. “When people in my community realised what was wrong with me, they would mock me. To shield myself from the cruelty and shame, I stopped mingling with society altogether.”

Berhane believed she was alone. She did not know that her condition had a name. She did not know that treatment was possible.

Berhane’s life began to change when she confided in a kind nephew. He suggested they seek medical help at Hamlin’s Mekelle Fistula Hospital.

“When we arrived at the hospital, we met a wonderful nurse named Sister Azeb,” Berhane says. Sister Azeb gently reassured Berhane and her family, saying: “This is a condition called obstetric fistula, but she can be fully treated and cured. There is no need for you to worry.”

For Berhane, this was the first time she understood that she was not cursed — and not alone. Looking around the ward, she saw other women who had suffered just like her.

“I thought I was the only person in the world suffering from this. Realising that I wasn’t alone brought me an immense sense of peace and restored my sanity.”

Berhane’s surgery was successful.

“I cannot even begin to describe my joy,” she says. “I made a solemn promise to myself: if I ever encountered another woman suffering from this condition in my homeland, I would personally bring her to the hospital to be healed.”

For women who need further support after treatment, Hamlin’s Desta Mender Rehabilitation and Reintegration Centre offers training, education and practical skills to help them return to their communities with independence and hope.

For Berhane, this support opened the door to a new future.

“I chose poultry farming as my top priority because it is incredibly practical,” she says. “You can start a chicken farming business with very little capital, and from a tiny investment, you can slowly grow, diversify, and completely transform your life.”

At Desta Mender, Berhane also discovered a deep passion for traditional hand embroidery. With her parents growing older, she was determined to generate her own income and support them.

“My sister had initially taught me the basics of embroidery, but at Desta Mender, I took it to a whole new level,” she says. “While my classmates slept, I would stay up late into the night — sometimes until midnight — sitting by myself and working tirelessly on my intricate designs.”

She has already begun earning money from her work.

“Since coming to Desta Mender, I have already earned three thousand Ethiopian Birr by selling my embroidery pieces to visiting guests,” she says. “Earning that money has made me incredibly proud and happy. It means I can truly support my mother and father.”

Today, Berhane is full of excitement and detailed plans for the future.

“When I return to my hometown, I have a two-part plan to completely change my life,” she says. “First, using the tailoring and embroidery skills I have perfected, I plan to buy high-quality threads and traditional fabric to create beautiful Habesha dresses. 

“I want to rent a small workshop and bring together my sisters and other young women who have faced similar struggles so we can hand-embroider these clothes together and build a thriving business.”

Her second goal is to launch a poultry farm alongside her embroidery business. “Managing both ventures side-by-side will allow me to rise above my past and secure my future.”