By Cathay Yenana:
A Different Kind Of Mountain
When a mother first hears the word autism, the world doesn’t end; it tilts. Time slows down, questions multiply, and the familiar becomes uncertain. It’s not the diagnosis itself that changes her life, but the vast, uncharted terrain that follows, the search for understanding, the daily negotiations with systems ill-equipped to help, and the quiet strength required to keep going when the world refuses to adapt.
For Nena Tenacity, a South African woman now living between SA and Bagamoyo, Tanzania, that word became both a challenge and a calling. Amani, her son who is living with autism, has transformed her understanding of love, resilience and purpose.
Now, as she prepares to climb Mount Kilimanjaro with her son, alongside another mother, Thandile Butana, who is blind and her son, Nena’s story transcends diagnosis and disability. It is a testament to courage, inclusion, and a mother’s refusal to be defined by limits.
Then comes the month of April and we literally scramble back to flying the blue flag, a colour we’re told represents autism primarily due to the Light it up Blue campaign, which uses blue to symbolise calmness, acceptance, trust and I’m not sure which spectrum it represents yet. For Nena Tenacity, this is her daily lived reality.
Beyond The Myths
Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), we all know, is not an illness to be cured but a difference to be understood. It is a broad range of neurodevelopmental conditions that affect communication, behaviour, and sensory processing.
Globally, the Centres for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) estimates that 1 in 36 children is on the spectrum. In Africa, that figure is less clear, not because autism is rare but because it remains underdiagnosed and often misunderstood.
Common early signs often appear between 18 months and 3 years. Delayed speech, repetitive movements, or difficulties with social engagement, but every child with autism presents differently. It is a spectrum, not a singular experience.
Autism shouldn’t define a child; it should redefine how we, the world, see these children. In many African communities, autism is still shrouded in stigma. Too often, children are labelled difficult, spoiled, or even cursed. Mothers are blamed, isolated, or pitied when what they need most is understanding and support.
The Hidden Weight Of Motherhood
For mothers like Nena Tenacity, raising a child with autism means living in a constant state of awareness, emotional alertness, physical presence, and psychological stress. Research shows that mothers of children with autism experience higher levels of chronic stress and anxiety than mothers of neurotypical children.
The vigilance required to manage routines, therapies, meltdowns, and sensory sensitivities can be overwhelming. But there’s another layer, one less spoken about, grief. Not grief for the child, but for the imagined version of motherhood that had to evolve.
Amani Tenacity’s mother, Nena, had to learn to let go of the world’s idea of normal. Perhaps, she began to see the beauty in what others overlook, small victories, eye contact, a moment of calm. She had to learn to live in micro-miracles and also grieve the version of motherhood she imagined and then had to learn to celebrate the one she’s given.
Yet this emotional recalibration often brings guilt. Society expects mothers to be tireless and endlessly patient, even as the systems around them collapse. Access to therapy, education, and diagnosis remains uneven across the Globe, often available only to those with financial privilege.
Scaling Kilimanjaro And The System
Nena Tenacity’s decision to climb Kilimanjaro with her son is both physical and philosophical. It represents the daily ascents she’s already made against stigma, misunderstanding, and systemic silence. Every step of the climb will mirror the slow, deliberate progress of parenting a neurodiverse child. There’ll be moments of exhaustion, doubt, and exhilaration. But above all, there is purpose.
Her climbing partner, a blind mother accompanied by her own son, deepens the symbolism: two women, two sons, one mountain.
Together, they embody the resilience of humans who have been told they cannot, yet they choose to prove otherwise that the steepest climbs are often the ones no one sees.
Is Awareness Enough?
Awareness is just a beginning, not a solution. Across the world, mothers continue to fight for educational inclusion, early intervention, and policy reform. Too often, the burden falls on families. Diagnosis can take years. Special needs education remains underfunded.
Therapies are expensive and geographically limited. And in many cases, mothers are left to educate teachers, advocate for accommodations, and rebuild their child’s confidence after every exclusion. Systems should support families, not exhaust them. We can’t keep relying on mothers to carry this alone.
Psychologically, mothers of children with autism display extraordinary resilience, which clinicians call adaptive coping. This resilience is born not from denial but from deep acceptance. It’s the ability to find stability in unpredictability, to draw meaning from struggle, and to keep loving fiercely in the face of misunderstanding.
This emotional intelligence often turns mothers into community leaders, advocates, and change-makers. Their lived experience gives rise to new forms of empathy, the kind that pushes policy, shifts narratives, and humanises statistics. As a society, we need to help mothers find their voices. She doesn’t just change her child’s world; she changes the world for every child like hers.
A Reflection On Isolation To Illumination
We live in a world where mothers are constantly redefining strength, courage and purpose. Some journeys stand taller, literally and figuratively, more than others.
One such story is unfolding between South Africa and Tanzania, where Nena Tenacity, a South African mother now living in Bagamoyo, is preparing for a journey that transcends limits and labels, alongside her son, who is living with autism, and another remarkable woman who is blind, accompanied by her own son.
These women plan to climb Mount Kilimanjaro, Africa’s highest peak. Two mothers, two sons, and one mountain, a powerful metaphor for resilience, inclusion, and love that knows no bounds.
Reflections On The Summit
In my candid conversation with Nena Tenacity, we reflect on how barriers can become bridges, how it connects her to others who refuse to surrender to silence and her climb. Her ultimate act of defiance against stigma, against invisibility, against the limits placed on what motherhood should look like.
Cathay Yenana: Let’s talk about your personal journey and motivation. What inspired you to take on the challenge of climbing Mount Kilimanjaro with your son, Amani?
Nena Tenacity: Before Amani was even conceived, I fantasised I would get triplets. My plan was to reach the summit with my triplets, my prophets of the future. Amani arrived. My triplet combo was born on 30/03/2013. 333.
But life took several tolls in survival journeys and that dream wavered away. Seeing Thandile’s post, a blind woman, planning to summit Kilimanjaro with her son, reignited my passion for Kilimanjaro.
Cathay Yenana: How did your journey as a mother to a child, Amani’s autism, begin, and what has it taught you about yourself?
Nena Tenacity: It started when I realised Amani was completely non-verbal. At the time, I didn’t even know what autism was; I just kept thinking, “It’ll come together eventually.” He was born in Bagamoyo on March 30, 2013, while I was temporarily settled here.
As a foreigner still learning the Kiswahili myself, I assumed his silence had something to do with my own lifestyle, or maybe the environment I was creating.
It wasn’t until I took him to Muhimbili Hospital for speech and developmental support that the word hit me: autism. I remember feeling a wave of fear, but also a fierce determination to figure it out. I searched everywhere, desperately, for answers, for remedies, for anything that could help.
That moment cracked something open in me. It taught me how deep love can go when you’re fighting for someone’s voice to be heard.
A few years later, I took him for dance, drama, acrobatics and musical activities for youth and children. initiates Bagamoyo autism awareness, by 9 years old, he uttered his first full sentences, and became verbal in Kiswahili and English.
Cathay Yenana: What was that moment like when you decided to live between South Africa and Bagamoyo, Tanzania? What prompted that shift?
Nena Tenacity: After coming out of a coma from a road accident in late 2004, something shifted in me. I knew I had to take on many untouched lifetime experiences. On top of my list was travel, not just to heal, but to rediscover life on my own terms. Tanzania had always been on my radar, and I kept on travelling to Tanzania at every chance possible
I started diving into creative projects, collaborating with the Zanzibar Film Festival and other initiatives that aligned with my vision. Bagamoyo, in particular, offered a kind of peace and inspiration I hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t just a move; it was a turning point.
Cathay Yenana: What is the preparation process for the climb, physically, mentally, and emotionally?
Nena Tenacity: The inner desire for Kilimanjaro always intrigued me. More so after the accident, it was something I wanted to achieve in this lifetime. I always tried to keep that goal, but with daily life chapters, the mission faded.
Until I saw Thandile’s post. A blind woman venturing for this ideal with her son. After reaching out to her to learn more, I decided, why not join her!
Thandile Butana reignited that desire. We will be training together when I am in South Africa and individually with our sons when we are travelling. I do need to prepare for physiotherapy and regain mental and physical energy. It’s time to work on me!
Cathay Yenana: What role does your son, Amani, play in this journey and how does he feel about the challenge ahead?
Nena Tenacity: He has developed into quite a character with a passion for journeys and travel. He does not yet grasp what it all means, but he keeps echoing, Let’s go to Kilimanjaro, listening in on conversations and our own discussions
Cathay Yenana: How are you preparing Amani for the sensory and emotional challenges of such an expedition?
Nena Tenacity: I am beginning to research more into making sure I have all the backup and security measures for the journey. Knowing his character and love for journeys, I do believe we will overcome most challenges.
Cathay Yenana: You’ll be climbing with Thandile Butana, a blind woman and her son. How did that partnership come about?
Nena Tenacity: I was casually scrolling through a new woman’s group on WhatsApp I was included in, and one post caught my attention. It mentioned Kilimanjaro, I wasn’t even fully aware she was totally blind until I reached out to interview her for my blog.
After I completed and published her story, I researched more and suggested to her that I would love to join, with my son as well. Our relationship grew with several conversations and we plan a physical meeting soon
Cathay Yenana: When you finally reach the summit of Kilimanjaro, what do you hope that moment will represent for you, Amani and for every mother walking a similar path?
Nena Tenacity: Honestly, it would mean everything. Getting to the top of Kilimanjaro with Amani would feel like we’ve climbed more than just a mountain, but are building towards reaching the peak together. For him, I want that moment to feel huge.
Like life is wide and full of possibilities and that he’s right in the middle of it. For every mother walking a similar path, I hope it says: “We’re here. We’re rising. And our dreams matter.”
The Hope Of A Mother And A Warrior
As I reflect on my candid conversation with Nena Tenacity, just by listening to her excitement, my hope is that, when these two women, Nena Tenacity and Thandile Butana finally stand on the slopes of Kilimanjaro, hand in hand with their sons, at that moment they carry not only their children’s hopes but the collective dreams of every mother raising a child who sees the world differently.
For Nena, this climb is not just a personal challenge. It is a symbolic ascent against the steep, often unseen barriers faced by raising Amani. Both women are determined to rewrite the narrative and show that they are not defined by limitations, but by possibilities in this world where systems often fall short
When these brave women finally reach the summit, I know it won’t just be a victory over altitude. It will be a declaration that difference is not a deficit, and that love, in its truest form, is limitless. Life, like the unforgiving mountain Kilimanjaro, which has claimed many lives, demands respect, endurance psychologically, physically, mentally, emotionally, and so much grace.
Kilimanjaro will remind you that some days you’ll stumble, yet with every step upwards, you’ll step towards understanding your greatness. – @NewsSA _Online