By Michael Gwarisa
Sixteen years ago, these words shattered Barbara Manjonjo’s world: “I’m sorry, your condition can’t be corrected with eye spectacles. All you can do now is prepare yourself, you’re going to go blind.”
This was her optician delivering the devastating news back in 2009. She was only 37 at the time. Today, she is approaching her 53rd birthday.
Never in her life had Barbara imagined that she would one day lose her sight and have to rely on her adolescent daughter to hold her hand as she navigated the same streets she once confidently drove through.
“When I first realized I was losing my sight in 2009, it happened while I was driving,” she recalled. “Every time I passed another vehicle, everything would go blank. At first, I thought it was just a minor issue, so I decided to get glasses. I went to an optician, and the one thing he said that day still sends shivers down my spine.”
The optician told her to simply wait for the inevitable day when she would completely lose her vision.
Back then, I was still sighted. I could still drive, do chores, take care of myself. I think the way the optician delivered the news really scared me. He didn’t have the time, or maybe the patience, to prepare me or walk me through what was going to happen.”
By 2009, Zimbabwe’s healthcare system was already showing signs of strain. Ophthalmology services and specialized care were largely unaffordable for the average person.
“Consultation alone for such a condition cost around US$80. I couldn’t afford to keep seeking help locally, so I went to South Africa, where treatment was more accessible. That’s when I was diagnosed with glaucoma, an eye condition that gradually destroys the optic nerves, leading to total blindness,” she said.
“Apparently, there’s no pain, no headaches. You don’t feel anything happening to your eyes. You just slowly lose your sight.”
According to data, the leading causes of blindness in Zimbabwe include cataracts, glaucoma, trachoma, refractive errors, corneal opacity, and diabetic eye diseases, with cataracts accounting for nearly 50% of cases. The Zimbabwe National Eye Health Strategy (2021–2025) identifies glaucoma as another major cause of severe and irreversible blindness, with a 20% prevalence rate among people aged 50 and above.
Globally, glaucoma affects an estimated 3.54% of the population, with Africa carrying the highest burden. The number of people aged 40 to 80 affected by glaucoma is projected to increase from 64.3 million in 2013 to 111.8 million by 2040, disproportionately impacting those living in Asia and Africa.
For Barbara, the diagnosis marked not just the beginning of physical blindness but also the onset of an emotional and psychological battle, one that would stretch across the years, reshaping how she saw herself and the world around her.
“From 2010 to 2012, I was in South Africa, and I was given eye drops to just manage the condition. After the diagnosis, I went through denial until I realised that yes, I have eye drops, but they are not going to cure the condition. I did get counselling in SA and then came back home to Zimbabwe because the last doctor I saw said it was now time for me to go back home and prepare for what was coming.”
Battling Suicidal Thoughts and Rehabilitation
For Barbara, the gradual loss of sight wasn’t just about losing the ability to see. It was about losing independence, losing spontaneity, losing control.
In 2018, her nightmare came true. By then, she had stopped working as an administrator for a local NGO. The blindness had finally set in. She found herself unable to use her cellphone, watch her favorite television shows, cook, or do anything on her own.
“I couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening at the time,” she said. “I entered into massive depression. I remember reaching out to my church community, telling them that I no longer saw the need to continue living. I just wanted to end my life, and people would say, ‘What about your daughter? Please don’t do this.’”
Despite their words of comfort, she was determined to take her own life. In her own words, she was in that suicidal state for some time. But a friend convinced her to go to rehabilitation, where she stayed for three months.
“They taught us how to use smartphones, how to type without looking at the keyboard using screen readers and voice-overs,” she said.
“We also had counselling sessions, group therapy, one-on-one sessions, and we met other people with the same condition of acquired visual impairment, those who had gone blind after 15 to 30 years of normal sight.”
Life After Blindness
Even though she has accepted and embraced her condition, Barbara admits that losing sight later in life comes with new challenges. Remember, she had been sighted her entire life until she turned 45.
“One thing is for sure, there’s a bit of independence that’s taken away from you when you become visually impaired. You rely on assistance from someone. Sometimes you want to talk to a nurse about your health, something private, but the first thing they do is talk to the person you’re with. It’s an invasion of privacy, and there are some things you just want to discuss with the doctor or nurse alone.”
She says this actually dampens the health-seeking behavior of people who have lost their sight, as they stop seeking services as frequently as they used to.
“I’ve also noticed that acquired visual impairment makes one lose confidence. You become withdrawn and afraid to talk to people. Even after rehab, I would call it backsliding, you get drawn back into thinking, ‘Once upon a time, I could do this and that on my own,’ and that pulls you back into depression.”
The Sexual and Reproductive Health Hurdles After Blindness
Apart from affecting the economic and social aspects of life, blindness also impacts sexual health, especially for those who go blind later in life.
“Sometimes you want to initiate sex or maybe help your partner put on a condom and be sure that he has it on. You want to be sure you won’t have an unwanted pregnancy or get a sexually transmitted infection. Now that I’m visually impaired, I have to put my trust in the person I’m with, and that’s not safe at all.”
She also bemoaned the user-unfriendliness of condoms.
“That strip on the condom packet, someone who doesn’t have sight can’t open it because you have to see where to tear from. If you attempt to do it blindly, you might break or damage it, increasing the risk of STIs or pregnancy.”
Contraception and family planning are key components of sexual and reproductive health. But women without sight struggle to correctly and consistently use methods like the pill.
“You don’t want to fall pregnant. Even if I don’t get family planning pills from the clinic, I can still get them from the pharmacy. Back when I had vision, I could tell when I was going from the white pills to the brown ones. Now, just by feeling them, I can’t tell where the brown ones start. And if you’re holding the pack the wrong way, you might start with the brown ones.”
Though Barbara is now in her 50s and no longer worries about menstruation, she says managing menstrual health while blind can strip someone of their dignity.
“I think I’m lucky enough because I’m now 53, but those last few years of my menstrual cycle were hectic. Just before menopause, you get a heavy flow, abdominal pains, and you don’t know if the pad you’re using is strong enough. The most irritating part is you don’t know when you’ll start. Before, I could tell, ‘Oh, I’ve spotted, I must be starting my period.’ Now, you can’t ask someone if there’s a spot on your pad. You just don’t have dignity when you do that.”
A number of mobile apps have been developed to help women manage their menstrual health. However, Barbara notes that not everyone has access to Wi-Fi or mobile data.
“I’ve learned that even in darkness, you can find your way, if you have the right support,” Barbara said.
In interview during at the Dorothy Duncan Open Day, Dr Mathias Mukona, a leading government ophthalmologist and eye surgeon, emphasized that while losing one’s eyesight is devastating, it is not the end of life.
“There are many people with visual impairment who are doing their universities, going through their universities, from undergraduate to postgraduate to PhD level, some they become even board chairs, some they even become presidents of countries with their visual impairment. Having visual impairment does not make you incapacitated to a point where you have to lose hope, you become depressed, you become anxious and you think that’s the end of life,” said Dr Mukona.
Losing eyesight is no easy feat, it comes with a host of emotional, psychological, and physical challenges. But seeking information, rehabilitation, and support during such times can help those who acquire blindness later in life. In Zimbabwe, several organizations offer rehabilitation services for the blind. These include the Dorothy Duncan Centre, Kapota School for the Blind (for children), and St Giles, among others.
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