With more than 100 staff around the world, CIVIC is powered by people who bring insight, creativity, and deep care to their work every day.
In the weeks ahead, we’ll be sharing short spotlights on colleagues from across the organization. These snapshots are a small way to recognize the talent, humor, and determination that drive our mission forward—and to offer a glimpse of the people shaping how we protect civilians in conflict.
As humanitarian workers, we often enter conflict zones with our own solutions in mind. The aid and services provided to conflict-affected communities are typically based on what donors or organizations assume they need. However, this mindset overlooks a fundamental truth: the people living in these areas are not just victims–they are much better experts in the challenges they face than us. They understand better than anyone what they need and often have a solution.
I witnessed this disconnect in the Kenyan county of Lamu, where the military built a school but struggled to engage the community in its upkeep. When we spoke to the locals, they expressed that their most urgent need was healthcare, not a new school. Although schools were far, they still had access to them.
What the community truly lacked was access to a healthcare facility, which was nonexistent.
This is why, as the Community Engagement Officer for Center for Civilians in Conflict (CIVIC) East Africa, I prioritize centering local voices in decision-making. At CIVIC, we work directly with communities by forming Community Protection Groups in conflict-affected areas, such as the Kenya-Somalia border.
Since it’s not possible to work with everyone, we form smaller groups that represent diverse community members—women, men, youth, people with disabilities and, in areas with internally displaced persons, those from the camps. We ensure that group members are individuals who are trusted by the community and maintain impartiality by not including government leaders or politicians, which helps create a safe space as often people feel hesitant to speak freely in the presence of official leaders.
Once the groups are formed, we train them on civilian protection, their rights and roles. After training, representatives return to their communities to consult with members and identify the key issues they face. Some examples of protection concerns in northern parts of Kenya with a large Somali population, were the mistreatment of people at roadside checkpoints. Women raised concerns about being searched by male officers, which is inappropriate in their culture and seen as a violation of their dignity. Another significant concern was the practice of collective punishment, when after terrorist attacks security forces would punish entire communities, demanding that they identify the perpetrators.
We compile these concerns and present them at dialogue sessions, where the community and military representatives come together and explore solutions.
This process is collaborative, empowering communities to take the lead. When communities cannot solve an issue on their own, we help them connect with the appropriate authorities, whether local or national government or other organizations.
A key focus of our civilian-military dialogue work is trust-building activities, as mistrust between communities and security forces is often a significant issue. One story that stands out for me is the impact we had in Wajir, a county in northeastern Kenya. Wajir is a semi-arid region that frequently faces droughts. During our visit, the drought had left people without water and pasture for their animals. This is a vulnerable situation that armed groups like Al-Shabaab often exploit to recruit people, claiming that the government is failing to provide the services they need and that they have no one else to rely on. Although the military had stepped in to provide essential services, the community was deeply distrustful and unwilling to engage. This distrust was a legacy of the Wagalla Massacre in 1984, during which the military played a significant role in the atrocities.
When we first spoke with the community, many said: “We don’t even want to see them. We lost our brothers; we can’t even talk to the military.” Over nine months, through patient trust-building and dialogue, we helped the community and military work together. The military began facilitating healthcare, water and other basic needs. Today, the Wajir Community Protection Group continues to meet with the military to discuss protection issues. This connection has made it much harder for armed groups to recruit them, and I’m very proud of the work we did there.
Unfortunately, the project was funded for only two years. By the time we started seeing significant results from our efforts, the funding ended–a common challenge for humanitarian NGOs. That’s why I firmly believe that localization should be the central strategy in conflict and humanitarian contexts. Local groups have the knowledge, trust and long-term commitment that external actors often lack. When these groups receive support, they can drive change that continues long after external funding and programs end.
A mentor of mine, Dr. Odong, once told me: “Document not just the problems, but the solutions.” This advice has stayed with me, shaping how I approach my work. And the message I want to share in my story is that real, long-lasting change comes when the people we serve lead the way. Our role is to be better listeners, conduct thorough assessments before offering services, and invest in building the capacity of communities to lead their own transformation.
