What Comes Next? Notes from the Naserian Field Visit
- 2 hours ago
- 5 min read

By Bilha Bibian
“You cannot fix or improve what you can’t see "
When we talk about keeping girls in education, it is easy to picture the classroom, the desks, teachers, books and a timetable. But for girls who are out of school, that classroom is no longer their everyday reality. The Naserian project is built around the idea that the boundary between girls in school and those outside should not determine who gets access to information, mentorship and opportunities. Being outside the formal education system should not mean being left out. What started as a training in February has now evolved. The promise that we made earlier that out-of-school girls should not be left behind is now taking shape on the ground.
My recent July visit to Narok allowed me to see what that promise looks like on the ground. We visited some of the organisations that were in the training, and every visit offered a different perspective. What struck me most was that there is no single story of an out-of-school girl. Some girls left school. Girls who are young mothers. Girls who are married. Girls who have been rescued from difficult circumstances. Girls who are trying to build livelihoods through vocational skills. Their circumstances are different and so are their needs. But they are all asking questions about what their futures can look like.
A question I have not stopped thinking about: towards the end of one of the sessions, the girls asked a question that sounded simple: “What is next after the training?” I remember pausing at that question. It was not simply a question about the next session on the calendar. It felt bigger than that. The girls wanted to know where the knowledge they were gaining could take them. What opportunities would follow? Who would walk with them after the training ended? What could they actually do with what they had learned? Being asked the question directly was a reminder that a successful training session cannot be the end of the conversation. It challenged us to think beyond delivering activities and toward creating lasting support systems.

There is a broader pathway that includes skills and meaningful opportunities. But honestly, as one of our integration projects following the merger with She's the First, we're still earnestly figuring out what "next" looks like beyond the pilot. Seven months into the two-year program, we know we've only scratched the surface in Narok — and we're not ready to leave the county just yet. As we implement and learn, we're intentionally listening to the girls themselves, thus allowing their experiences, priorities, and aspirations to shape how Naserian evolves and how we respond to the realities of out-of-school girls in Narok.
During the visit, I became more conscious of something that is easy to overlook when looking at attendance numbers, which is what it takes for a girl to actually make it into the room. For some girls, the day begins long before the session. There are mornings spent milking, fetching water, preparing food, caring for children and completing household responsibilities. For others, attending a session may mean walking a considerable distance. And for a girl earning an income, choosing to attend training can mean giving up a day's paid work, which is not a small decision. So when a girl walks into a session, sits down and participates, her presence represents something. It represents time, effort and, in many cases, a decision to invest in herself despite everything else competing for that time. This changed how I looked at the sessions. Attendance was no longer just a number on a register. Behind every person in that room was a set of responsibilities and choices that had to be navigated before she could get there.
Another highlight of the visit was witnessing the dedication of the partner CBOs. Although each organisation serves its community differently, they share a common commitment to creating safe spaces where girls can learn, ask questions and build confidence. Their close relationships with the communities they serve allow them to understand local realities and respond in ways that are relevant. It was encouraging to see organisations learning from one another and working toward a shared vision. We are already seeing promising examples of CBOs' collaboration helping girls reconnect with education and skills training. Nalangu Community Based Organisation and HOPE for Girls Education Africa, for example, collaborated to support the re-enrolment of one girl in school, while St. Paul Hub CBO worked with Osiligi Girls Empowerment Network to enrol a rescued girl in a Vocational Training Centre. For girls who have completed vocational training, these opportunities are also beginning to open pathways to livelihoods, with some exploring small businesses such as braiding and sewing. These are still early signs of the program’s success, and they point to the potential of stronger collaboration to help girls move from participation in training towards meaningful opportunities beyond the sessions.

Another moment that stayed with me came from the mothers who asked whether they could have sessions of their own. Their request was a reminder that educating girls cannot happen in isolation. Families and caregivers also want access to information and opportunities to learn. When parents are engaged, they become partners in supporting girls to make informed decisions and pursue their aspirations. That is what I believe community-led change can look like. Girls do not grow and make decisions in isolation. They return from sessions to families and communities. The information and confidence they gain can spark conversations at home and build closer connections. The mothers' request told me that there is an appetite for information beyond the girls themselves. It also reinforced something important about community-based programming: if we want change to last, we have to think about the environment surrounding the girl, not just the girl herself. Perhaps the question is not only how we reach girls, but how we build communities where the knowledge they gain is understood, supported and reinforced.

So, “What comes next?’’ is one question I think the programme should continue asking itself. Because the goal cannot simply be to get girls into a room, deliver a session and count the participants. The goal is to create pathways beyond that room. There are already some emerging answers we could explore. A girl who completes vocational training and begins building a small business is an answer. A CBO working with another organisation to help a girl return to school is an answer. A mother asking for her own SRHR session is an answer.
As Naserian moves into its next phase, I am carrying with me the voices I heard in those sessions, the realities that shape girls' ability to participate, the determination of the CBOs working within their communities with limited resources and the signs of what is possible. Most importantly, I am carrying the reminder that listening is part of implementation. Sometimes, the most important outcome of a field visit is not having the perfect answer. Sometimes, it comes back with a better question: What comes next? A single question asked by a girl who is already thinking about her future, eager for what comes next.




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