Beyond Infrastructure: What Kenya’s ASAL Learners Teach Us About Emotion, Trauma, and Inclusion

What does it really mean for a child to stay in school in Garissa or Turkana? Not just to be enrolled, but to feel safe, supported, and seen?

The answers are often sought in infrastructure. Build classrooms. Pay school fees. Buy pads. Provide desks and books. All of that matters, yes, but researching and compiling the report, Adapting the Nia Program to Address Socio-Emotional, Mental, and Physical Challenges Hindering Gender Equality and Inclusion in Arid and Semi-Arid Lands’ Schools, validated something that has long been evident: many children are not leaving school just because of material or structural gaps. Even when those needs are met, some still cannot stay because they are surrounded by hunger, the threat of early marriage, conflict, grief, and pressure to provide for their families. These realities travel with them into the classroom. Emotional, social, and psychological barriers continue to show up in ways our metrics rarely capture.

In fact, many of the adults in these communities, teachers, school heads, and parents, struggled to define social-emotional well-being (SEW). Most equated it with basic needs or physical safety. While those are essential, they are not enough. 

A community leader in Daadab said it clearly: “Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) and early marriage impact their emotional well-being; however, our primary focus is on facilitating their return to school” (p. 19). This is the crux of the problem. Learners are returning to classrooms carrying invisible burdens, yet there is little or no structured emotional support.

Cultural Norms Can Be Entry Points, Not Barriers

In many cases, development work treats religion and culture as hurdles to overcome.  Our research resisted that impulse. Instead,  cultural and religious norms were approached as context. When understood, they can become powerful entry points for change. 

Community beliefs, whether grounded in religion, tradition, or social experience, shape how people understand puberty, gender, and school attendance. Programs that ignore these beliefs often fail, but those that engage respectfully can gain trust and open dialogue.

Communities in Garissa and Turkana demonstrated that programs gain traction not by working around beliefs, but by working through them and with them in humility, dialogue, and collaboration. Effective adaptation, therefore, is more than technical; it’s relational.

Programs Cannot Outperform Broken Systems

If we want to support learners, we must support the ecosystems they live in. In Turkana, persistent drought, food insecurity, displacement, and safety concerns affect whether a child can learn at all.

As the report shows, when learners face food insecurity and instability, their emotional well-being and ability to focus in class are significantly affected.

Structural issues are central to education. A program may be well-designed and evidence-based, but it will falter if the systems around it do not support stability, nutrition, safety, and care. To support learners effectively, equal attention must be paid to the realities that shape their daily lives.

Gendered Experiences Shape Learning in Unique Ways

The findings emphasize the importance of moving beyond generic approaches to gender. Even within the same community, boys and girls experience education differently. Girls often face early marriage, limited access to menstrual products, and the fear or reality of violence. These experiences affect their ability to attend school consistently and to feel safe and valued while learning. Boys, on the other hand, are under pressure to take on work, contribute to the household, or hide emotional struggles because expressing vulnerability is seen as weakness. 

As one school leader noted, “Some girls are absent due to menstruation” (p. 20). This absence reflects not only physical challenges but also deeper issues of discomfort, stigma, and inadequate support that limit girls’ participation in class. 

Gender shapes who feels safe, who stays in school, and who is emotionally present to learn. Programs that ignore these layered realities risk leaving the most vulnerable behind.

Emotional Health Is Foundational to Learning

If the goal is to retain children in school, serious attention must be paid to what pushes them out. Many are labeled “disruptive” when they are simply grieving or scared. These challenges go beyond poverty or infrastructure. They reflect emotional neglect in systems that prioritize performance over presence.

“You observe a child being punished, yet the concern lies not in discipline; it is in trauma.”
One educator in Turkana said: “We are held accountable… yet lack training to assist girls who are depressed, pregnant, or abused.” (p. 18)

The observation is a powerful reminder that it is not possible to build emotionally safe classrooms on foundations of adult burnout, unaddressed shame, or emotional suppression. Teachers, especially in ASAL contexts, are stretched thin. 

According to the report, this “establishes an untenable dynamic in which emotionally neglected adults are anticipated to cultivate emotionally supportive atmospheres for children.” (p. 18)

Inclusion needs more than action plans. It requires new mindsets. This report reminds us that behind every data point is a child navigating hunger, grief, gendered pressure, and trauma. Emotional well-being and context matter. They are not optional. They are the foundation of learning - and that is a lesson not just for Kenya but for everyone working to improve education.
 

To learn more, read the full report here. Then ask yourself: What is one way you can center emotional well-being in your work today?