Meeting the "Sheep Grandmothers"...Reflections...

How do I begin to describe the “Sheep Grandmothers” of Mt. Kenya? They are an incredible group of fourteen women who have formed a collective, a community, a family over the past 4 years, raising sheep and making kiondos (woven sisal baskets with leather handles), pooling their money, and sharing the proceeds of their labors with one another. Seven of the women are over 65; the rest are in their 50s and early 60s…all are raising AIDS-orphaned grandchildren. Eleven of them met with us to tell about what they have been doing over the past year since Mary and other Nyanya volunteers met with them: Susan, Esther, Catherine, Ruth, Lucy W., Philomena, Grace, Mary, Ruth M., Edith, and Lucy.

Susan Wanjiru

Catherine Gahoni

Lucy Wangoi

Grace Wangiru

Ruth Wanjiku

Mary Wanjiku

Lucy Wainuku

The on-going drought in Kenya has taken a great toll, even here in this usually-lush place and my eyes filled with tears as the Nyanyas shared with us that they are down to one meal a day, due to the drought. Their sheep, lacking grass, are eating dirt, which has caused the death of several of them. But these beautiful, strong, courageous, indomitable women persist in their dedication to their grandchildren and to one another. Meeting every other week, they have a “president”, Susan, and a secretary, Catherine, who presented us with her carefully-taken “minutes” of their meetings when problems are discussed, solutions found, plans made. They have a joint bank account and save a portion of each month’s earnings for future needs. I have seldom met a more amazing group of women and I was in awe of all I saw and heard. The welcome extended to us was warm and hospitable; the hands extended were ones of hospitality, not request.

All the beautiful Nyanyas

 On the way back to our hotel, we took Mary Wanghiko and her grandson, Clinton, home and she invited us to see her house. I think the pictures say more than my poor words ever could. 

Early on Sunday morning, sitting on the porch outside our lovely comfortable room, hearing only animal sounds and reveling in the beauty and the silence of nature, I reflected on the previous day:

Here I sit, in a luxurious lodge barely 10 miles from where the Sheep Nyanyas live…where they have small sick houses with windows covered only by cloth… where cooking is done either outdoors or on a tiny wood fire in one corner of the house…where animals share living space…where drought has reduced them to one meal a day. Yet they persevere, empowered by a deep, shared spirit…united, acting as a family. Thin blankets protect against the cold nights…life a continual, on-going effort to simply survive…to pay school fees for their grandchildren…to raise their sheep and make kiondos to sell at market.

Here I sit, my appetite sated by a lovely breakfast…bottled water is plentiful. Last night, a hot water bottle warmed my feet and I slept under a down comforter. Today we will make the return trip to Nairobi in a comfortable van and will go to bed in a safe and secure guesthouse far removed from the Kibera Slum (where our grandmothers here live), in kind if not in distance.

Is it any wonder that I am so conflicted? Any wonder I am suffering bouts of melancholy, even as I revel in the incredible resilience of spirit in the people I meet, the breath-taking beauty of the countryside? I drink bottled water while the earth and its people here are parched with drought.

  O God, whose wisdom far exceeds mine,

            What is my place?
            How do I cobble together
            The disparate pieces of myself into
            A shape that makes sense?
            That functions in this often
             Oxymoronic, conflicting world
                        in which I find myself?
          I lift my eyes to the mountains…
             I breathe in the cool, fresh air…
             I seek…
             I search…
             I ask…
                        May my feet fall on the
                        Right path…the path of
                        Compassion…of justice & peace…
                        Of wisdom…
                        And may your still, small voice
                        Continue to guide me,
                        Even in the midst of my question & doubts.
                                    Let it be so.
                                    Amen & amen