Wanjiku: A Mother's Journey of Resilience and Love

In the bustling town of Kitale, nestled in the fertile highlands of Kenya, lived a hardworking mother named Wanjiku. Originally from Murang'a, Wanjiku and her husband Mwaura had moved to Kitale, attracted by the promise of larger plots of fertile land that would allow them to farm extensively and secure a better future for their family. The move was challenging, but Wanjiku and Mwaura were determined to make a new life in Kitale.

Wanjiku, or Mama Njeri as she was fondly called, was known for her unwavering dedication to her family and her tireless work ethic. She had three children: Njeri, Kamau, and Mwangi. With Mwaura frequently traveling for work, Wanjiku managed the household and farm on her own. She woke up every morning at the crack of dawn, before the roosters crowed, to start her day. "Kazi ni lazima, hakuna kulala," she would say, reminding herself of her responsibilities.

The initial days in Kitale were tough for Wanjiku and her family. The locals, predominantly from the Luhya tribe, had different customs and traditions. "Ni ngumu kuelewana nao," she would often think, finding it challenging to interact and blend in. The language barrier and unfamiliar traditions were daunting. One particularly challenging tradition was the Luhya circumcision ceremonies. On the day of circumcision, boys to be circumcised would go to the river early in the morning, apply mud to their naked bodies, and then return to the place of circumcision in a crowd, singing circumcision songs. It was a taboo to cross in front of them. This practice seemed hostile and intimidating to Wanjiku and her family.

However, Wanjiku's determination never wavered. She ensured that her children never lacked anything. She worked tirelessly on their shamba, growing maize, beans, and sukuma wiki. She also kept chickens and goats, selling eggs and milk at the local market. Her days were long and her nights short, but she never complained. "Wana ni maisha yangu," she often told her friends, expressing how her children were her life.

As time went by, Wanjiku and Mwaura slowly adapted to their new home. They began to understand and respect the Luhya traditions, including the circumcision ceremonies. The locals, in turn, appreciated the couple’s hard work and dedication. "Pole pole, tutazoea," Mwaura would say, encouraging his wife. They participated in local ceremonies and learned the Luhya language, which helped them build strong relationships with their neighbors. The sense of community in Kitale began to feel like home.

Wanjiku formed close bonds with her neighbors, like Mama Wekesa and Mama Shiro, who taught her the local ways and included her in their community gatherings. "Pole pole, utazoea," Mama Wekesa would often say, assuring Wanjiku that they would soon feel at home.

As her children grew older, Wanjiku dreamt of a time when her hard work would pay off. She envisioned a future where Njeri, Kamau, and Mwangi would be independent, allowing her to focus on her own interests. She imagined herself joining the women's group, "Nyumba ya Wazee," where she could participate in dances and learn new crafts.

Years passed, and her children flourished. Njeri excelled in school and was accepted into a prestigious university. Kamau learned the trade of carpentry, and Mwangi became a skilled mechanic. Mama Njeri's heart swelled with pride as she watched them achieve their dreams. "Huu ni mwisho wa kazi ngumu," she thought, believing her days of hard work were finally over.

However, as her children transitioned into adulthood, Mama Njeri realized that her role was far from finished. While they no longer needed her to cook their meals or mend their clothes, they sought her wisdom and guidance on life's challenges. Njeri, who now lived in Nairobi, frequently called her mother for advice on balancing work and studies. "Mama, unafikiria nini kuhusu kazi hii mpya?" she would ask, seeking reassurance from her mother.

Kamau, starting his own carpentry business, often consulted Wanjiku on managing finances and dealing with clients. "Mama, najua unaelewa biashara vizuri. Tafadhali nisaidie," he would say, valuing her practical knowledge and experience.

Mwangi, who had started a family of his own, frequently brought his children to Wanjiku's home. "Mama, tafadhali angalia watoto leo," he would request, knowing that his mother’s love and care were unmatched.

Mama Njeri found herself busier than ever, but in different ways. Instead of tending to their physical needs, she was now a source of emotional support and wisdom. She realized that her children still needed her, albeit in new and different ways. "Maisha ya mama hayawi rahisi kamwe," she mused, acknowledging that motherhood was a lifelong journey.

Despite the continued demands on her time, Wanjiku found joy in her evolving role. She embraced the new challenges, knowing that her children's reliance on her was a testament to the strong foundation she had built. "Niwakire," she would say with a smile, reflecting on the enduring bond she shared with her children.

In the evenings, when the day's work was done, Mama Njeri would sit on her porch, watching the sun set over the hills of Kitale. She cherished the moments of peace, knowing that while her dream of a less demanding life had shifted, the love and respect of her children were the greatest rewards of all. "Nafurahi na wana wangu," she would whisper, feeling blessed to be surrounded by her family's enduring love.

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https://www.jaiinstituteforparenting.com/finding-resilience-a-mother-s-journey-to-healing-and-happiness

https://vocal.media/families/a-mother-s-unwavering-love-a-journey-of-sacrifice-and-strength

https://www.valleychildrens.org/blog/a-mothers-journey-of-hope-and-resilience

https://www.sweedesi.com/blogs/news/mothers-day?srsltid=AfmBOopk_9dh2ciJtLjxEsFx207TI4i6SOHsCGWSZfDUsO-LUNlwQR_u