When Life Became Disposable

I grew up knowing abortion as something whispered, something heavy, something wrong. It was never discussed loudly, never joked about, never treated lightly. Life was sacred every heartbeat, a promise. Even in poverty, even in struggle, a child was a blessing. That is how I was raised. That is what I believed.

But the world has changed.

Now, abortion is spoken of casually, like a routine errand. A choice. A convenience. A quick solution. People say, “It’s my body.” “It’s my life.” “It’s my decision.” And while I understand pain, fear, and hard circumstances, my heart still breaks at how easily young souls are erased… how quietly they disappear.

I remember the story of Ngong dump, the massive landfill on the edge of Nairobi. Waste trucks roll in and out all day plastic, food, furniture… and sometimes, something far more precious: newborn babies buried among the trash. For years, waste pickers have found infants among the rubbish, some still alive, others already gone. Tiny bodies wrapped in plastic, thrown away like waste. No name. No grave. No tears. Just… gone.

At Ngong where the city’s waste turns into a mountain of discarded things life and death meet in the most heartbreaking way. You see broken bottles, torn shoes, rotting food… and then you see innocence, lost in dirt. And you ask yourself: How did we get here?

And sometimes, it is not even the dustbin.

Sometimes, it is a toilet stall.

A cold floor. A locked door.

And in that silence, there is the cry of an innocent soul no one wants to hear.

I started noticing how normal it had become around me too. How people talked about ending pregnancies without blinking. How friends encouraged each other to “just remove it.” How boys walked away easily, and girls carried the burden silently. How society moved on quickly, while tiny lives disappeared quietly.

And now, even more disturbing, university students and young girls are taking P2 like daily meals.

As if it is Panadol.

As if it is harmless.

As if it carries no consequences.

Girls as young as teenagers swallow it after every encounter, laughing, careless, uninformed. No fear. No pause. No reflection. Some even boast about it. It has become normal. It has become routine. It has become dangerous.

No one talks about what it does to their bodies.

No one talks about the hormonal damage.

No one talks about the emotional numbness.

No one talks about the way it trains the heart to see life as disposable.

Yes, I know there are abortion rights. I know laws exist to protect women in difficult, dangerous, and life threatening situations. I understand that some pregnancies come from violence, trauma, abuse, or serious medical risk. And in those moments, compassion and protection are necessary.

But what hurts me is this: those rights are being misused.

What was meant to protect life is now being used to discard life.

What was meant to be a last resort is now a first option.

What was meant for safety is now being used for convenience.

People are no longer asking, “Is there another way?”

They are asking, “How fast can I get rid of it?”

And that is painful. That is dangerous. That is heartbreaking.

No one talks about the emotional scars.

No one talks about the empty feeling.

No one talks about the nights of regret, the what ifs, the invisible grief.

We talk about rights, but we forget responsibility.

We talk about freedom, but we forget consequences.

We talk about choice, but we forget the voice that was never given a chance to speak.

Every time I think of Ngong of newborns found among discarded bottles and plastic bags my chest tightens. Because those souls could have been doctors, teachers, artists, leaders, mothers, fathers. They could have changed the world in small or big ways. But they never got the chance.

I know life is not easy. I know some situations are painful, complicated, and heavy. I know some women are scared, unsupported, and alone. And I do not judge their pain. I do not mock their struggle. But I still mourn the lives that never got to see the sun.

In my opinion, abortion should never be treated as normal.

It should never be casual.

It should never be joked about.

It should never be used as a shortcut.

Because when a society becomes comfortable with ending life, it slowly loses respect for life.

We are becoming a world where life is negotiable.

Where inconvenience outweighs innocence.

Where young souls are treated as mistakes instead of miracles.

Where dustbins become graves.

Where P2 is swallowed like sweets.

Where toilets become hiding places for pain.

Where conscience is replaced with convenience.

And it hurts.

It hurts to see a generation growing numb.

It hurts to see life reduced to a problem to be solved.

It hurts to imagine Ngong or any dustbin or any toilet as a place where a life might end before it ever really began.

I still believe life is sacred.

I still believe every heartbeat matters.

I still believe every child deserves a chance.

Maybe the world calls it normal now…

But my heart will never be okay with it.

Because some things should never become normal.

And one of them is throwing away life.