Connecting to Kenya: a Canadian mother and daughter travel to Africa

Stephanie: I remember very few things from my first time in Africa — I was only 18 months old then — although I've never forgotten the sweet taste of guavas and the smell of the fresh peanut butter my mother made from peanuts she bought from a local woman.

Today I keep one of my favourite pictures from those two years (my family was in Nigeria, where my father had a teaching posting through the World University Service) on my desk at work. In the photo, a bustling market scene is brought to a standstill by two mothers holding two daughters. My mom, in a white hat and large '80s-style glasses, smiles at me and the baby next to me. I'm wearing a white dress and bonnet, probably made by my mother. The other child's gold earrings and vivid green-dyed traditional dress match her mother's as well.

Two sets of mothers and daughters; two different worlds. Yet the photo has captured an unspoken feminine bond — one that unites all mothers in their hopes, dreams and desires for their daughters. It is that bond that drew my mother and me back, in 2007, to Africa.

Like many strong and independence-minded women raised in male-dominated homes, my mother vowed that her two daughters would grow up knowing their worth and the power of education. Her lessons directed me into my career, which involves working with women on issues of empowerment all over the world.

When I learned that I would be going to Kenya in January 2007 to set up unique partnerships between our centre and grassroots women's organizations that promote education there, I asked my mother to come with me. Besides attending the World Social Forum — a meeting of tens of thousands of representatives of civil society working for social justice and community development — we would be hearing the vibrant, courageous stories of other mothers and daughters, grandmothers and granddaughters.

To me, education is as much about learning outside of the classroom as inside it. For example, most of my knowledge about the world and about myself as a woman came from my relationship with my mother and strong, courageous women I've been privileged to meet in the course of my work.

In Africa, a continent devastated by AIDS, this understanding could not resonate more. With an entire generation wiped out, with grandmothers caring for their grandchildren and orphans tending younger siblings, what education, what stories, are lost as a result? How can we support those who are trying to preserve and pass on those stories? These questions are what this journey is about.

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Rosemary: Our goal was to meet with women's organizations and community agencies working toward empowering women in the area of education. We wanted to help bring back their stories, and, if possible, collaborate with them in bridging the cultural and geographical gap between Kenya and Canada.

Our first such meeting set the bar for the rest of our trip. Irene Kamau, director of Action Now Kenya (ANK), which delivers education, health care and microcredit small-business loans to women in slums and on the streets, greeted us with a smile that lit up the whole room as she served us delicious Kenyan tea. Her passion and energy for her work was contagious as she showed us her tiny office space, then took us to Kayole, a slum outside of Nairobi.

There we met a group of women trying to save enough money — 1,000 Kenyan shillings, or about $16 Canadian, each — for their group to qualify for a microcredit loan from ANK. With it, they could start small businesses in their communities such as selling snacks, braiding hair or tailoring. They wouldn't eliminate their poverty, but they would be better able to feed their children and pay for school uniforms and fees.

The meeting room was a shack with a thatched roof and wooden planks; the women sat in a semicircle on wooden benches. Bright sunlight beaming through the slats made it unbearably hot, and the whole structure shook as little children swung around one of the support poles. Irene explained that most of the women are widows; almost all are HIV positive or have AIDS.

Some are grandmothers raising grandchildren because their children have died. One held a tiny baby in her arms as three more children stood around her; she looked absolutely exhausted. Could I, approaching my 60th birthday, do this? I wondered. I tried to put myself in her place. There is no question that I would care for my grandchildren, but at this point in my life, when my husband and
I are preparing for retirement, it is hard to imagine.

It had been three months since the women had begun saving what they could in their locked blue metal boxes. As Irene's colleagues, Agnes Mutuku and Judith Okwengu, opened each box in turn the room was anxious and quiet — each woman holding her breath as her shillings were counted.

One by one, the women who had collected the 1,000 shillings relaxed. But those who were short a few shillings were devastated. One of the older grandmothers was sure she'd had enough, but said her son must have managed to get the money out of the box. One had not been able to save anything — she barely had enough to feed her children.

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My heart ached when Irene told the group they would have to wait another three months while those who were short tried to save. Although I understood that saving the money themselves gave the women ownership of their businesses, I asked Irene if we could supplement their program. Irene consented, and as she explained in Swahili, the room exploded into cheering, clapping and singing.

Stephanie: Mom and I met Rita Thapa, a soft-spoken woman with an inner fire who was also in Nairobi for the World Social Forum, at a reception for women's organizations held by the Global Fund for Women. Rita was born in Nepal into a very conservative family, but her father's military career and, by extension, her family's nomadic lifestyle gave her an extensive vision of the needs and challenges of Nepali women. By the age of 18 she had developed an intense passion for furthering peace and women's rights in her country, but instead she was forced into an arranged marriage and quickly became a young mother.

With heartbreaking intimacy, Rita described how she had known nothing of sexuality or pregnancy at the time of her marriage (she wondered why her menstrual periods had stopped but wasn't enlightened; no one described the birth process to her). Then, when her first child was born, she was bewildered by her sudden motherhood and resentful at the loss of her independence and education — her desire to work as a social activist caused conflict with her family and she broke from them.

But Rita didn't give up on her vision. Today she has an excellent relationship with her three children, and she is internationally known for her work over the past 25 years for and with the women of her country.

In 1996 she established Tewa, a foundation that raises funds and provides grants aimed at creating empowering women's initiatives. She founded Nagarik Awaz (Citizen's Voice) in 2001, which provides nonpartisan support, including shelter, medical care and counselling, to families and communities devastated by armed conflict in Nepal. In 2005, I later discovered she was one of 1,000 women in the world nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize in a special campaign to nominate women.

When I first met Maureen Nyatatu Gitonga, I was struck by how similar we were. We are the same age. Maureen has a similar role in a women's organization and has the same passion for women's issues. With her, Mom and I journeyed two hours outside of Nairobi to Kajiado to a small concrete complex — a long block of classrooms and three blocks of dorms and a kitchen, all with bare floors and tin roofs. This was a Forum for African Women Educationalists (FAWE) Centre for Excellence.

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Rosemary: The school proclaims its mission in black letters over the main entrance: "To establish a centre of excellence for the girl child, incorporating high standards of academic achievements, discipline, responsibility, integrity and gender responsiveness."

In the kitchen, charcoal fire pits cook huge pots of cabbage and rice; the washroom is a long cement counter with old jugs and basins for washing (no indoor plumbing). Although malaria is a problem, especially during the rainy season, only two of the beds boast mosquito nets.

FAWE supports several schools like this one, which was built to accommodate 400 students but in fact houses 650. Three girls squeeze into each desk; in the dorms there are two girls for every bed. However, most of the girls come from villages where they are at risk of early child marriage and child pregnancy, and the staff will not turn anyone away.

Some of these girls are so young! I think of my own girls at that age — the stories at bedtime, the cuddles, the tales about family and what it was like when I was their age. Like all mothers, I was passing down history through family stories that I'd taken for granted.

But this transfer of knowledge, of history, is being lost in communities such as the ones we visited. When families are broken so early in life, continuity is lost. But schools such as this one offer a chance for a better future. Besides schooling, the girls are taught to respect themselves, their bodies and their heritage. That kind of education is invaluable, something every mother wishes for her daughters.

Stephanie: Although the physical structure of this school is deteriorating (FAWE is raising funds for a new dorm), it is giving 650 girls a chance for a better life. Maureen's courage and optimism were a beacon for the dramatic change that can be achieved through education — between cultures and generations.

What was inspiring was Maureen's determination — to go as far as the United Nations, if necessary, to make her voice heard. The young girls at the school regarded her with wonder.

Rosemary: As our plane taxied down the runway of Nairobi's Jomo Kenyatta International Airport for takeoff, I looked out the window at the lights of the city and felt a rush of emotions that was unsettling. After an overwhelming two weeks, I suddenly realized that I was not ready to leave — as if I was abandoning unfinished business.

How many women were there in the world like Irene Kamau and Rita Thapa — women devoted to helping other women — who simply did not have the resources to achieve their goals? On this journey we met women in slums, on the streets, in the markets, running organizations and participating in governments.

Our goal had been to learn as many of their stories as possible. We had begun to achieve it — and yet, how many stories remained to be heard? I thought of the girls at the school in Kajiado. I hoped that they, and many, many more, would gain the confidence and the voices to tell their stories, too.

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Stephanie Garrett is executive director of the Women's Resource Centre at the University of Calgary, which has established an international initiative promoting women's and girls' education. Rosemary Garrett, an ophthalmic assistant in Calgary, is her mother and mentor.

 

Canadian women are making a difference all around the world. Check out how five Newfoundland women are helping with rebuilding New Orleans.

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