What does it take to navigate the challenges of rural life while ensuring the health and education of one's children? In this blog post, we profile Hauwa Ibrahim, a mother of eight from Kwamarawa village in Kano State who is determined to get her baby vaccinated despite many challenges.

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‍The smell of burning firewood fills the air as Hauwa cooks breakfast early in the morning. She gently wakes her five school-aged children—three girls and two boys—helping them dress in simple uniforms. She carefully applies powder to the girls' faces and packs their small bags. Hauwa has instilled the importance of education in her children, even though many of the other children in the neighborhood do not have the opportunity to attend school.

After sending her children to school, Hauwa turns her attention to her tethered goats. Normally, the goats would graze freely on nearby farms, but the recent rain has prompted farmers to start clearing their land and planting seeds. Plus, with ‘big sallah’ (Eid Al Adha)––a major Muslim holiday that features the sacrifice of an animal for a feast––around the corner, the risk of goats being stolen is high.

Later in the day, she hopes to make it to the health clinic in Kwamarawa, where she takes her baby, Hamza, for immunizations. But before she makes the trek there, she still has to cook breakfast for her husband, Yahaya Mati, do the dishes, sweep the house, and bathe herself and her baby.

Hauwa, who is 37, grew up in the nearby area of Dala, where she was raised by her aunt after her mother passed away. Although she couldn't finish primary school, her aunt made sure she continued attending Islamic school until she got married. 

She now lives with her husband and seven of her children (her oldest child no longer lives at home) in a humble one-bedroom mud house in Kwamarama, a close-knit community that follows traditional ways of life. Most of the men farm and trade produce and animals in neighboring villages to sustain their families. Few women in the village work outside the home, but Hauwa sells baby clothes, perfume, and handbags to mothers in her village and at the health clinic on immunization days. Her husband grows rice during the rainy season and sells goat meat during the dry season, but his income is barely enough to cover their most basic needs, she says.

With Hamza securely strapped to her back and a bundle of goods ready to sell, Hauwa begins her trek to the clinic with her 9-year-old son, Abubakar, by her side. Though Abubakar has to miss school to join her, she says his presence is invaluable. “He has a calming effect on his baby brother, making the long clinic days more manageable for me,” she says, smiling.

The journey to the clinic is unsuitable for a motorbike because the soil is so sandy, so she must walk there on immunization days. During the rainy season, the road floods, she says, making it inaccessible. This forces Hauwa to either delay the immunizations until the water recedes or take a longer route via the main road, which adds time and effort to her trek.

The sun climbs higher and the heat intensifies. Hauwa’s steps grow heavier, her breath labored, but she presses on. She passes familiar faces, villagers who either nod or wave to greet her respectfully. She is well-known in the community for providing Islamic education to married women and children in the village.

Hauwa's commitment to her child's immunizations is rooted in a traumatic experience. While breastfeeding her second child some years back, she had to stop taking him for his immunizations after the second round because she didn’t have enough money to travel to the nearest clinic, then 22 kilometers away. But then, her baby contracted measles. “After weaning, he couldn’t eat and developed kwashiorkor (a type of malnutrition characterized by severe protein deficiency). It was a heartbreaking experience because I almost lost him,” she recalls. Following this incident, clinic staff advised her to be vigilant about completing her children's immunizations on time. From that day on, Hauwa vowed never to let any of her children miss their shots again, especially now that there’s a health clinic closer to home.

She recalls when Hamza, her youngest, received his first measles vaccine in his left upper arm. "He cried," she says, but she felt grateful and walked home with cash in hand, knowing her baby would be more protected than his brother was.

Finally, Hauwa sees the clinic in the distance. Relief washes over her as she quickens her pace. She is ready to have her child immunized and to sell her goods to the waiting mothers. She plans to use the money she earns to help pay her children’s school fees and to save the incentive money to buy livestock. After saving her first ₦3,000 stipend over three months, she bought a chicken for her infant. "The fowl has now delivered chicks, and I plan to save the remaining stipend to eventually buy a goat for him [Hamza]," she shares with satisfaction.

When she arrives, she sits down with the other waiting mothers and holds Hamza close, giving him a drink. The other women around her have also had to overcome challenges to get there––taking time out of their busy days, and either walking or paying for transportation, to travel to the clinic. The small incentives they receive help them overcome these barriers. 

While they wait their turn, Hauwa allows Hamza to play with the plastic bag that New Incentives has provided to help protect his immunization records. He is one of millions of infants who will be served by the program this year. 

We are deeply grateful to Hauwa Ibrahim and her family for opening their home and life to our staff so that our audience can bear witness to her life.