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Mother's anguish turns to relief after autism diagnosis
Martha Ongwane once considered ending her four-year-old daughter Rachael's life after years of isolation and stigma in Malawi. Today, the child thrives in a school for children with special needs, a rare beacon of support in a country where autism remains widely misunderstood.
A cry for help in a society without answers
Two years ago, Martha's world unraveled. Rachael, diagnosed with autism, exhibited behaviors-non-verbal communication, biting, and restlessness-that left her mother overwhelmed. Neighbors in Mzuzu, northern Malawi, blamed Martha, urging her to lock Rachael away. The lack of awareness about autism deepened her despair.
"I told myself it would be better if she died," Martha recalls, her voice barely above a whisper. "But my heart wouldn't let me." Instead, she poured poison into a cup, only to abandon the plan in tears.
Breaking the cycle of stigma
Malawi's healthcare system offers little refuge for families like Martha's. With only two developmental pediatricians and three psychiatrists serving 22 million people, autism often goes undiagnosed or mislabeled. In Chichewa, the country's dominant language, autism translates to ozelezeka ("mentally challenged") or ofuntha ("troublesome"), reinforcing harmful stereotypes.
Christopher Mhone of Saint John of God, a Catholic-backed organization, calls the system's failure tragic. "For a woman to contemplate killing her child, we've failed her as a nation," he says. The group runs Malawi's sole school for children with disabilities, offering therapy, education, and counseling to over 600 families annually.
Faith vs. science: A dangerous divide
While Martha found solace in evidence-based care, others turn to traditional healers. Natasha Lusinje, mother to five-year-old Shalom, spent $15 on herbal "treatments" after being told her son was bewitched. A healer in Lilongwe, Maness Sanjelekani, claimed she could cure "Satanic autism" through rituals-including cutting the child's skin-despite no medical basis.
"I am trying to save his life," Sanjelekani insists, though she later admitted failure. Natasha, still clinging to hope, says, "God will show me the way."
Policy gaps and the road ahead
Malawi's Disability Act omits autism entirely, leaving NGOs like Saint John of God to fill the void. The government's sole psychiatric facility, Zomba Central Hospital, offers basic assessments but no specialized programs. Health Minister Madalitso Baloyi declined to comment on national provisions for autism care.
Mhone urges systemic change: "If society sees disability as ability in a different form, stigma fades." His team trains religious leaders-many of whom attribute autism to witchcraft-to recognize signs and advocate for support.
A future reclaimed
Today, Rachael attends Saint John of God's school, where she learns to speak and sing alongside peers. Martha watches, guilt and gratitude intertwined. "Every day, I think about how close I came to losing her," she says. "Now, I adore her."
"Disability is ability, in a different way."
Christopher Mhone, Saint John of God
