In the stretches of Tana River County, silence has long been a heavy garment for adolescent girls. It is a silence woven from the threads of ancient taboos and the hollow ache of school desks left empty during menstrual cycle. For Milka Hadida, this wasn’t just a community struggle; it was her own that led her to her human rights work in 2014.
She proves that even the most “ordinary” tools, a bike and a pair of walking shoes can perform the extraordinary task of changing a society’s heart. In 2014, she began pedaling through the deepest parts of the community, delivering dignity in a package: Sanitary towels to ensure a future where no girl has to trade her education for a period.
“I remember going home during my periods and missing classes because I didn’t have sanitary pads,” she recalls. “Many girls in my school were going through the same thing.
Milka describes how poverty turns a normal part of being a woman into a heavy burden. In Tana River, lack of clean water or even a bar of soap and quality sanitary towels has also led to the risk of health infections; followed by shame and stress that follows.
For Milka, this is a matter of basic human rights.
‘Good menstrual health is about more than just giving out pads. It is about dignity. It means every girl should have a private place to wash and a safe way to dispose of materials without feeling ashamed.’
In 2021, after her work was highlighted by the Kenya Red Cross, Milka received the Florence Nightingale Award in recognition of her community service. Over the years, she has also received several other honors, including the Shujaa of the Year Award and the Mwanamke Bomba Award, presented by the President in 2024, affirming the credibility and motivating her work.
Milka’s advocacy has since expanded beyond menstrual health. In 2018, she began addressing broader issues affecting women and girls in Tana River County, including gender-based violence, early marriage, and women’s rights to land and inheritance.
She highlights the systemic barriers women face: “In our community, women are frequently denied land inheritance. Some even encounter violence when attempting to assert their legal rights.”
Refusing to let these stories remain in the shadows, she co-founded the Tana River Women Group. Through initiatives like table banking, she replaced financial dependency with economic sovereignty. She began the slow, delicate work of “unweaving the old ways,” sitting with elders and families to translate abstract laws into a language of human dignity.
The path to justice, however, is often a marathon through the dust. Milka frequently travels exhausting distances to bring survivors to court, only to watch cases crumble when fear keeps witnesses at home. “It is a heavy discouragement,” she admits, “to see the doors of justice swing shut at the final moment.”
Even at home, her activism is a delicate balance. When her children ask why she is “away” so much helping others, she offers them a visionary’s answer: she isn’t just helping strangers; she is tilling the ground for their own future.
Empowered by the Defenders Coalition, Milka has sharpened her advocacy through the Human Rights Defenders Academy and the NiMama Network forum.
“A woman in leadership does more than just shatter a glass ceiling,” Milka says, her eyes on the horizon. “She becomes a bridge-builder, ensuring that the path she cleared is wide enough for an entire generation to follow.”