“I Still Believe He Will Walk”: Telvin’s Story of Faith, Loss, and Quiet Hope

Telvin Siambe is 12 years old. He is gentle, observant, and deeply imaginative. He loves drawing and can spend long moments sketching cars, carefully shaping each line as if he is building a world where movement comes easily. He is the only son in a family of three siblings, raised by a mother whose strength has been shaped by love, loss, and unwavering faith.
Karen, Telvin’s mother, speaks softly but with conviction.
She believes that having Telvin is a blessing.

Telvin was born healthy. For the first years of his life, nothing suggested that his body would one day struggle to do what came naturally to other children. But when he was about nine years old, Karen began noticing small changes. The way he walked. The way he leaned on furniture. The way he needed support to move around.
This was around 2017. At the time, Karen’s husband was seriously ill. Her days were split between hospital visits, caregiving, and trying to hold her family together. When she took Telvin to different hospitals, they did not receive clear answers. His symptoms were not fully understood, and she was reassured that it was nothing serious.
Then life demanded more than she ever imagined.

Her husband was admitted to hospital for two months. Karen spent her time by his bedside, hoping he would recover. During this period, Telvin’s condition quietly worsened at home. And then, in the middle of uncertainty and exhaustion, her husband passed on. Grief entered their home suddenly and heavily. As Karen mourned, she also began to see what she could no longer ignore. Telvin could not walk properly anymore. His muscles had weakened significantly. His mobility was increasingly limited. That was when their journey with Duchenne muscular dystrophy became undeniable.
Grief entered their home suddenly and heavily.

As Karen mourned, she also began to see what she could no longer ignore. Telvin could not walk properly anymore. His muscles had weakened significantly. His mobility was increasingly limited. That was when their journey with Duchenne muscular dystrophy became undeniable. Karen became everything at once. A grieving widow. A sole caregiver. The only breadwinner. The emotional anchor for three children.
She runs a small kibanda selling groceries, doing whatever she can to provide for her family while caring for a son whose needs are growing every day.

Telvin is not in school at the moment. This breaks Karen’s heart. Like any parent, she dreams of seeing her child learn, grow, and access quality education like other children. She dreams of a future where Telvin’s condition does not take away his right to knowledge or opportunity.

She holds onto the hope that one day Telvin will have a mentor or a home tutor who can help him continue his education. She sees his intelligence in the way he draws. She sees his curiosity when he talks about cars. She knows there is so much inside him that deserves nurturing.
Caregiving as a single mother is exhausting. They do not have mobility tools to support Telvin’s independence. Some days, Karen has to leave him at home as she goes out to hustle. It is never an easy decision. For her, it comes with guilt and worry. For Telvin, it comes with quiet waiting.

Since her husband passed on, the extended family has not visited or offered support. The isolation has made the journey heavier. Managing Duchenne without a support system is overwhelming, especially when caregiving, income, and emotional strength all rest on one person.
Yet Karen still believes. She believes that Telvin will one day get up and walk. She believes that someone will come through to help her son access care, education, and support. She believes that communities can learn to fully accept children living with Duchenne, not with pity, but with understanding.

Her plea is simple and deeply human. That caregivers are supported. That children living with Duchenne are seen. That families are not left to struggle alone. At Friends of Muscular Dystrophy Kenya, stories like Telvin’s remind us why awareness matters. Why community matters. Why care should never rest on the shoulders of one exhausted parent. Telvin still draws. He still dreams. He still imagines a world where movement is easier. His life may look different, but it is no less valuable. And his mother’s love, tested by loss and hardship, continues to carry him forward.

This is Telvin’s story.