By Christine Rose
I spent this past week in the Namanga Region of Kenya, completing Phase 3 of the six regions that will be included in the VEF Longevity Study.
Namanga is vastly different from what I have experienced in Western Kenya thus far. Being on the Kenya / Tanzania border, Namanga is a predominantly Masai population. The Masai are semi-nomadic people, and for the most part rely on livestock for their livelihood; cattle and goat grazing, herding, milking and slaughtering. The past 2 years have seen tremendous drought in this region, hence economic devastation which they are just beginning to recover from.
The towns of Namanga and Mailtisa (where I focused most of my time), are quite primitive. Dusty, dry, a few small kiosks selling vegetables or maize flour, with no modern amenities. The sparse existence of the people is evident everywhere you turn.
I spent much of my time interviewing business owners who had assembled for Market Day on the dusty roadside of the village
of Mailtisa. It was fascinating to see the robed men leaning on staffs, talking as they tended their goats, women buying and selling with toothless smiles and jewelry flashing, babies tied to their backs. Thankfully I had a Masai interpreter with me, so I wasn’t quite so singled out as the foreigner. I was able to meet with many business owners, and was surprised, yet again, that in such a hostile climate with so many factors against 
them (drought being a big one), that individuals are still finding ways to provide for their families through small businesses. 
One disconcerting realization is that most adults have no education (although their children are for the most part attending school, which is positive). I am impressed by herdsmen who manage their entire goat herds by memorizing distinguishing marks on each individual goat (rather than other methods of accounting for them). It was challenging to see women who are working
so hard to run small vegetable stands and kiosks, having no working knowledge of units of measure and pricing. As I began to calculate what they were paying to purchase their goods, and what their selling price is, it became clear that often they are selling at a loss, and not even aware. I am encouraged that the primary request for training is for business accounting, but am concerned that this will be a long, slow path. I hope the next generation can begin bringing about change. 
Speaking of change, you’ll see evidence of the old and new worlds integrating in some of the attached photo’s, as in the example of the traditional Masai couple who are goat-herders, with their 20-something son who is also in the goat business, but sporting jeans and sunglasses.
Namanga is vastly different from what I have experienced in Western Kenya thus far. Being on the Kenya / Tanzania border, Namanga is a predominantly Masai population. The Masai are semi-nomadic people, and for the most part rely on livestock for their livelihood; cattle and goat grazing, herding, milking and slaughtering. The past 2 years have seen tremendous drought in this region, hence economic devastation which they are just beginning to recover from.
The towns of Namanga and Mailtisa (where I focused most of my time), are quite primitive. Dusty, dry, a few small kiosks selling vegetables or maize flour, with no modern amenities. The sparse existence of the people is evident everywhere you turn.
I spent much of my time interviewing business owners who had assembled for Market Day on the dusty roadside of the village
of Mailtisa. It was fascinating to see the robed men leaning on staffs, talking as they tended their goats, women buying and selling with toothless smiles and jewelry flashing, babies tied to their backs. Thankfully I had a Masai interpreter with me, so I wasn’t quite so singled out as the foreigner. I was able to meet with many business owners, and was surprised, yet again, that in such a hostile climate with so many factors against 
them (drought being a big one), that individuals are still finding ways to provide for their families through small businesses. 
One disconcerting realization is that most adults have no education (although their children are for the most part attending school, which is positive). I am impressed by herdsmen who manage their entire goat herds by memorizing distinguishing marks on each individual goat (rather than other methods of accounting for them). It was challenging to see women who are working
so hard to run small vegetable stands and kiosks, having no working knowledge of units of measure and pricing. As I began to calculate what they were paying to purchase their goods, and what their selling price is, it became clear that often they are selling at a loss, and not even aware. I am encouraged that the primary request for training is for business accounting, but am concerned that this will be a long, slow path. I hope the next generation can begin bringing about change. 
Speaking of change, you’ll see evidence of the old and new worlds integrating in some of the attached photo’s, as in the example of the traditional Masai couple who are goat-herders, with their 20-something son who is also in the goat business, but sporting jeans and sunglasses.
The Masai and the Mzungu’s (foreigners) don’t have a particularly friendly existence. The Masai have been conditioned by tourists heading on Safari to Tanzania, that mzungu’s have money. Hence, mzungu’s are either badgered with jewelry sales or are the object of begging for money. Conversely, many mzungu’s view the Masai as objects of curiosity rather than a proud people. I am thankful that the Longevity Study provided me an opportunity to meet the Masai on a level of mutual respect, but I did not have high hopes for any lasting personal connections.
Hence, my interaction with Shabishina Lesiolo of Entere Milk was a beautiful and unexpected blessing! These women (known as “mama’s” – any older woman is called a “mama”) run a quite successful dairy business. The “head mama” of the group (Sabishina Lesiolo) and I seemed to “get” each other well, despite depending upon a translator. If I could paraphrase Masai, I think she was saying “I like that Mama, she understands us; we are sisters” – OK, so the one part of this story that I don’t like is I seem to have graduated to an age where I am called a “Mama,” but all the rest is good! She looked past me being a mzungu, and saw my heart; that we were both women, mama’s. So, Mama Lesiolo invited us for tea, and while we were drinking tea under a shade tree, she then came outside bearing the gift of a few strands of beads. In a situation where I am jaded with Masai women badgering me at every turn to buy their beads, it was refreshing to see that Mama Lesiolo was offering these beads purely as a gift. But what caught me completely off-guard, is that Mama Lesiolo had donned her best ceremonial beaded necklaces (reserved for special occasions), and while wearing them, danced a traditional Masai dance for me before she placed the gift of beads around my neck. It was a priceless moment – to realize that I wasn’t in a Masai Museum, or tourist village –but that this traditional Masai dance was presented as a gift to me and those who had supported this small business through a VEF grant! With the backdrop of her traditional hut, a few cows, the big snake we had just thrown rocks at to scare away, and the harshly beautiful landscape of southern Kenya, it was on
e of those moments that I will never forget, what a gift… Please se
e the attached photo’s of myself with Mama Lesiolo and one of her business partners, and the next photo of Mama Lesiolo after she has donned a ceremonial kanga and her best bead necklaces. For a woman who has no address, no phone number, and is illiterate, Mama Lesiolo has an unquenchable spirit and “get-it” factor that crosses all language, cultural, and ethnic barriers. You go, Mama!
On a sad side-note, I learned the next day that Mama Lesiolo’s husband is in her home dying of HIV AIDS, and that Mama Lesiolo has also been infected. I was thankful to hear that, due to the success of Entere Milk, she is able to afford needed medication and is currently in good health.
As I rode back to Namanga, jammed with 8 other people and a bleating goat in a small 5-seater junker of a car (that is the official matatu transportation in Namanga Region), I felt so content and blessed that not only are the VEF Grant funds impacting women like Mama Lesiolo, but that I was privilged enough to witness and share in their story.
Now if only I could get a hot shower one of these days, I would be extremely happy!
Hence, my interaction with Shabishina Lesiolo of Entere Milk was a beautiful and unexpected blessing! These women (known as “mama’s” – any older woman is called a “mama”) run a quite successful dairy business. The “head mama” of the group (Sabishina Lesiolo) and I seemed to “get” each other well, despite depending upon a translator. If I could paraphrase Masai, I think she was saying “I like that Mama, she understands us; we are sisters” – OK, so the one part of this story that I don’t like is I seem to have graduated to an age where I am called a “Mama,” but all the rest is good! She looked past me being a mzungu, and saw my heart; that we were both women, mama’s. So, Mama Lesiolo invited us for tea, and while we were drinking tea under a shade tree, she then came outside bearing the gift of a few strands of beads. In a situation where I am jaded with Masai women badgering me at every turn to buy their beads, it was refreshing to see that Mama Lesiolo was offering these beads purely as a gift. But what caught me completely off-guard, is that Mama Lesiolo had donned her best ceremonial beaded necklaces (reserved for special occasions), and while wearing them, danced a traditional Masai dance for me before she placed the gift of beads around my neck. It was a priceless moment – to realize that I wasn’t in a Masai Museum, or tourist village –but that this traditional Masai dance was presented as a gift to me and those who had supported this small business through a VEF grant! With the backdrop of her traditional hut, a few cows, the big snake we had just thrown rocks at to scare away, and the harshly beautiful landscape of southern Kenya, it was on
e of those moments that I will never forget, what a gift… Please se
e the attached photo’s of myself with Mama Lesiolo and one of her business partners, and the next photo of Mama Lesiolo after she has donned a ceremonial kanga and her best bead necklaces. For a woman who has no address, no phone number, and is illiterate, Mama Lesiolo has an unquenchable spirit and “get-it” factor that crosses all language, cultural, and ethnic barriers. You go, Mama!On a sad side-note, I learned the next day that Mama Lesiolo’s husband is in her home dying of HIV AIDS, and that Mama Lesiolo has also been infected. I was thankful to hear that, due to the success of Entere Milk, she is able to afford needed medication and is currently in good health.
As I rode back to Namanga, jammed with 8 other people and a bleating goat in a small 5-seater junker of a car (that is the official matatu transportation in Namanga Region), I felt so content and blessed that not only are the VEF Grant funds impacting women like Mama Lesiolo, but that I was privilged enough to witness and share in their story.
Now if only I could get a hot shower one of these days, I would be extremely happy!
