Mama Herine

I could write a short book about my host mom in Kisumu. Oh, amazing, funny, and harsh Herine. She is sort and generally petite, but strong in that she packs a big personality into her small body. She even offers to run with me in the morning. Her hair is kept short, because it saves money. She has the dark skin, thick hair, and high cheek bones that are characteristic of the Luos in Western Kenya. The first thing I noticed abot her is her voice - it's commanding to say the least. It's like no one taught her the difference between the "inside" and "outside" voice. Every animal on the whole homestead listens to her. A dog wanders in the house, and she yells in Luo, and it quickly exits. Even the chickens listen.

These commands are not limited to the animals. All of us kids in the house, including now myself, get scolded. Sometimes I walk around barefoot and that is simply not alright. Or maybe I need to come to the table immediately for tea! We regularly laugh and happily follow her orders.

Don't let this assertiveness let you think she's too harsh or not fun-loving. She loves a lot like she speaks - fiercely. She takes care of all six kids, including paying for six sets of very expensive school fees. She feeds us all, takes care of us when we're sick, and still works a full-time job as a maternity nurse. Een me, once I was nauseated in the middle of the night, and she sat with me for hours while I say complaining and spitting into a plastic bag.

There are other things she loves, like her chickens. She says they "really help me a lot," because they give us eggs and occassionally we eat a chicken. This is essentially free food and free protein, for a family that works a lot but doesn't have a lot of money. She always feeds the chickens in the house, which teaches them to hang out there. Once one tried to lay its eggs on her bed.

Once, my host-brother Issac was treating our house with very potent chemicals to kill the cockroaches. There was a small chicken that I named "the ugly duckling," because it was the last of 18 chickens that had lived, but it was very weak and missing quite a few feathers. I really liked this one and I fed it specially in hopes of it growing up healthy. But back to the cockroaches, the slow-moving ones that had chemicals on them were a feast for the chickens. Issac put the ugly duckling into the cupboard to let it eat the dying bugs. I warned him, fervently, that the duckling would die from eating the poison. Being a 17 year-old boy, he just laughed.

The next morning, the ugly duckling couldn't walk and was having seizures. Within the hour it died in Winnie's hands. I was annoyed, since I had been taking special care of this one and I admired its will to live. When Mama found out what had happened, she described her feelings: "Issac is too annoying! I don't even want to see him at all today. He's too stupid!"

There are things she often mentions, like how "African men are polygamous by nature" and even "bad creatures." She speaks of the goodness of her children and their willingness to work, whether it's in fetching water, cooking, building a fence, or planting trees. She hates that her concrete floor was poorly made and has disintegrated into dirt again.

She is my fiercest advocate and a good friend. We laugh, have frank discussions, and learn from one another. There is no other woman like her in Kenya.