In the crowded neighborhoods of Nairobi's informal settlements, life begins early and ends late. Small homes made from tin and wood stand shoulder to shoulder. Families survive day by day through small jobs, selling vegetables, repairing shoes, carrying goods, or washing clothes for others.

For many elderly men and women, eyesight is their last connection to independence. When cataracts slowly take that away, life changes quietly but completely.

A grandmother who once walked to the market alone now depends on a child to guide her steps. A father who earned a living with his hands can no longer work. Crossing a busy road becomes dangerous. Cooking becomes risky. Even recognizing the faces of loved ones fades into shadows.

The tragedy is this: cataract blindness is treatable.

Yet for thousands living in Nairobi's slums, treatment might as well be out of reach. Hospital visits cost more than a family earns in months. Transport to medical centers is difficult. Many simply accept blindness as fate, not knowing that a short surgical procedure could restore their sight.

Without help, people withdraw from community life. Children leave school to care for blind relatives. Families already struggling with poverty fall deeper into hardship.

But restoration is possible.