Wangechi sat on the veranda of her rural home at Gitithia Escarpment, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the yard. The air was thick with the scent of blooming blue gum trees, and the distant laughter of children playing drifted on the breeze. She watched them fondly, her thoughts wandering back to her own childhood.
Years ago, Wangechi had left her children with her parents in this very house. The lure of Nairobi, with its promise of work and a better life, had been irresistible. She had worked tirelessly, sending money home and visiting when she could. Her parents had raised her children, instilling in them the values and traditions of their Kikuyu heritage.
Eventually, she had retired and returned to the rural home, her children grown and with families of their own. She had hoped to find peace and enjoy her twilight years. But soon enough, the cycle began anew. Her children, now adults, left their own children with her as they went off to Mombasa for work. Wangechi accepted this new responsibility with a heavy heart, feeling the weight of the endless chain pressing down on her.
Recently, her daughter Wangari had returned home, weary from the hustle and bustle of city life. Wangari’s daughter, Njeri, had followed in the family tradition, leaving her young son, Mwangi, with Wangari. And so, the cycle continued, unbroken and relentless.
One quiet evening, as Wangechi sat with Wangari, she decided it was time to address the issue that had plagued their family for generations. “Wangari,” she began, her voice soft but firm, “we need to talk.” Wangari looked up from her sewing, sensing the seriousness in her mother’s tone. “What is it, Mama?”
Wangechi sighed, choosing her words carefully. “This pattern of leaving our children behind, it must end. I did it because I had no choice. I wanted to provide a better life for you and your siblings. But now, I see the toll it has taken on our family. It’s time to break this chain.” Wangari nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting the weight of her own experiences. “I know, Mama. It’s hard to balance work and family. But what can we do?”
“We need to find a way to support each other without relying on leaving our children behind,” Wangechi said. “Maybe we can start small, by finding work that allows us to stay close to home. We can lean on each other, help raise our children together, and ensure they grow up knowing their parents.”
Wangari’s eyes filled with tears as she listened to her mother’s words. “I don’t want Mwangi to grow up feeling abandoned,” she said, her voice trembling. “I want Njeri to be there for him, to see him grow and to guide him.” Wangechi reached out and took Wangari’s hand in hers. “We will find a way, my daughter. We will break this chain, together.”
The days turned into weeks, and Wangechi and Wangari began to put their plan into action. They explored opportunities that allowed Njeri to work from home or nearby, using her skills and creativity to make a living. They started a small business Kibanda, selling handmade crafts and produce from their farm. It wasn’t easy, but they were determined to make it work.
The community noticed the change in their approach and began to offer support. Neighbours and friends pitched in, helping with childcare and sharing resources. The sense of unity and cooperation grew stronger, and soon, other families began to follow Wangechi and Wangari’s example.
As time passed, Wangechi saw the fruits of their labour. Mwangi grew up surrounded by love and the presence of his family. He thrived, knowing his mother, grandmother and great grandmother were always there for him. The chain that had bound their family for generations was slowly being broken, link by link.
One evening, as Wangechi watched Mwangi play with his friends, she felt a deep sense of satisfaction. She knew that the journey to break the cycle wasn’t over, but they had taken the first crucial steps. The future looked brighter, filled with hope and the promise of a better life for the generations to come.
Wangechi turned to Wangari, who was standing beside her, and smiled. “We did it,” she said softly. “We’re breaking the chain.” Wangari smiled back, her eyes shining with gratitude and determination. “Yes, Mama. We are.”
And so, under the vast Gitithia sky, amidst the beauty of their rural home, Wangechi and Wangari forged a new path for their family, one filled with love, unity, and the promise of a better tomorrow.
Years ago, Wangechi had left her children with her parents in this very house. The lure of Nairobi, with its promise of work and a better life, had been irresistible. She had worked tirelessly, sending money home and visiting when she could. Her parents had raised her children, instilling in them the values and traditions of their Kikuyu heritage.
Eventually, she had retired and returned to the rural home, her children grown and with families of their own. She had hoped to find peace and enjoy her twilight years. But soon enough, the cycle began anew. Her children, now adults, left their own children with her as they went off to Mombasa for work. Wangechi accepted this new responsibility with a heavy heart, feeling the weight of the endless chain pressing down on her.
Recently, her daughter Wangari had returned home, weary from the hustle and bustle of city life. Wangari’s daughter, Njeri, had followed in the family tradition, leaving her young son, Mwangi, with Wangari. And so, the cycle continued, unbroken and relentless.
One quiet evening, as Wangechi sat with Wangari, she decided it was time to address the issue that had plagued their family for generations. “Wangari,” she began, her voice soft but firm, “we need to talk.” Wangari looked up from her sewing, sensing the seriousness in her mother’s tone. “What is it, Mama?”
Wangechi sighed, choosing her words carefully. “This pattern of leaving our children behind, it must end. I did it because I had no choice. I wanted to provide a better life for you and your siblings. But now, I see the toll it has taken on our family. It’s time to break this chain.” Wangari nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting the weight of her own experiences. “I know, Mama. It’s hard to balance work and family. But what can we do?”
“We need to find a way to support each other without relying on leaving our children behind,” Wangechi said. “Maybe we can start small, by finding work that allows us to stay close to home. We can lean on each other, help raise our children together, and ensure they grow up knowing their parents.”
Wangari’s eyes filled with tears as she listened to her mother’s words. “I don’t want Mwangi to grow up feeling abandoned,” she said, her voice trembling. “I want Njeri to be there for him, to see him grow and to guide him.” Wangechi reached out and took Wangari’s hand in hers. “We will find a way, my daughter. We will break this chain, together.”
The days turned into weeks, and Wangechi and Wangari began to put their plan into action. They explored opportunities that allowed Njeri to work from home or nearby, using her skills and creativity to make a living. They started a small business Kibanda, selling handmade crafts and produce from their farm. It wasn’t easy, but they were determined to make it work.
The community noticed the change in their approach and began to offer support. Neighbours and friends pitched in, helping with childcare and sharing resources. The sense of unity and cooperation grew stronger, and soon, other families began to follow Wangechi and Wangari’s example.
As time passed, Wangechi saw the fruits of their labour. Mwangi grew up surrounded by love and the presence of his family. He thrived, knowing his mother, grandmother and great grandmother were always there for him. The chain that had bound their family for generations was slowly being broken, link by link.
One evening, as Wangechi watched Mwangi play with his friends, she felt a deep sense of satisfaction. She knew that the journey to break the cycle wasn’t over, but they had taken the first crucial steps. The future looked brighter, filled with hope and the promise of a better life for the generations to come.
Wangechi turned to Wangari, who was standing beside her, and smiled. “We did it,” she said softly. “We’re breaking the chain.” Wangari smiled back, her eyes shining with gratitude and determination. “Yes, Mama. We are.”
And so, under the vast Gitithia sky, amidst the beauty of their rural home, Wangechi and Wangari forged a new path for their family, one filled with love, unity, and the promise of a better tomorrow.
