By Jody Landers (from theadventureproject.org)
“How inspired am I going to feel about a piece of irrigation equipment?” I wondered, watching out the window as the sun rose over the African landscape.
Despite raising my family among the cornfields of Iowa, I know very little about farming - let alone about farming in Kenya. We were in Kenya to meet farmers whose lives have been transformed. All because of one piece of equipment, a Kickstart irrigation pump.
After an hours drive, we pulled over to the side of a tiny dirt road in front of a modest home. Penninah, was just finishing getting her three kids ready for the day. We waited patiently as she quickly tidied the house and bent to kiss the foreheads of her kids. It all seemed very much like what I do every day, a routine that transcends all mothers.
She smiled shyly when we complimented her on her appropriate ensemble, a Kickstart baseball hat and matching skirt, she was the perfect walking advertisement. Penninah seemed so young, but spoke with confidence and maturity. Her children were getting older she told us, patting each on the head. Ages 13, 10, and 4. Two boys, one girl.
Eight-months earlier, a Kickstart sales rep had noticed Penninah and her husband hauling buckets of water to her family’s field fruitlessly trying to keep their entire crop from withering away. The rep waved to them, and did a quick demonstration. Penninah and her husband had never seen anything like it before, and purchased a pump on the spot.
Immediately they began to see results. Before, without rains, they would just let their crops fail, she said. It was nearly impossible to try to water rows of corn with a bucket. The irrigation pump changed everything. In just one season, they grew enough to feed their family, and used the surplus food to sell to their neighbors. With the extra income, Penninah said proudly, “ Kennedy, their oldest son, is now attending secondary school.” A dream that was out of reach before.
But with the success, there was sorrow, too. Only a few weeks ago, a short illness unexpectedly took her husbands life . I was amazed by her poise, despite obvious grief. Sarah, the Kickstart sales rep, who’s now her close friend whispered, “I think she’s still in shock.”
With her kids following close behind, Penninah walked us behind her house, beyond her husband’s grave, to her fields. She showed us her tomatoes, maze, onions and spinach. We sat on a rock and ate her avocadoes’. She pointed to where she had plans to extend her plot so she could increase her business in the local market.
This was not the face of a poor African widow I was accustomed to expect. The one we’re supposed to look after because she’s poor, and help feed her starving children.
“This is it.” I thought to myself as I stood next to Penninah in her field. “This is how I’m supposed to be helping end poverty.”
The challenges of her difficult life, the loss of her husband, the concerns for her children brought no shame, no embarrassment. Her life is difficult, but she has hope.
A simple irrigation pump. That she bought. This is what saved her.
Before packing up we asked one final, yet obvious question. “What does this pump mean to you?”
Smiling sweetly, Penninah replied, “It’s my miracle.”
Happy Mother’s Day to miraculous mothers everywhere, and the simple miracles that sustain us all.
Despite raising my family among the cornfields of Iowa, I know very little about farming - let alone about farming in Kenya. We were in Kenya to meet farmers whose lives have been transformed. All because of one piece of equipment, a Kickstart irrigation pump.
After an hours drive, we pulled over to the side of a tiny dirt road in front of a modest home. Penninah, was just finishing getting her three kids ready for the day. We waited patiently as she quickly tidied the house and bent to kiss the foreheads of her kids. It all seemed very much like what I do every day, a routine that transcends all mothers.
She smiled shyly when we complimented her on her appropriate ensemble, a Kickstart baseball hat and matching skirt, she was the perfect walking advertisement. Penninah seemed so young, but spoke with confidence and maturity. Her children were getting older she told us, patting each on the head. Ages 13, 10, and 4. Two boys, one girl.
Eight-months earlier, a Kickstart sales rep had noticed Penninah and her husband hauling buckets of water to her family’s field fruitlessly trying to keep their entire crop from withering away. The rep waved to them, and did a quick demonstration. Penninah and her husband had never seen anything like it before, and purchased a pump on the spot.
Immediately they began to see results. Before, without rains, they would just let their crops fail, she said. It was nearly impossible to try to water rows of corn with a bucket. The irrigation pump changed everything. In just one season, they grew enough to feed their family, and used the surplus food to sell to their neighbors. With the extra income, Penninah said proudly, “ Kennedy, their oldest son, is now attending secondary school.” A dream that was out of reach before.
But with the success, there was sorrow, too. Only a few weeks ago, a short illness unexpectedly took her husbands life . I was amazed by her poise, despite obvious grief. Sarah, the Kickstart sales rep, who’s now her close friend whispered, “I think she’s still in shock.”
With her kids following close behind, Penninah walked us behind her house, beyond her husband’s grave, to her fields. She showed us her tomatoes, maze, onions and spinach. We sat on a rock and ate her avocadoes’. She pointed to where she had plans to extend her plot so she could increase her business in the local market.
This was not the face of a poor African widow I was accustomed to expect. The one we’re supposed to look after because she’s poor, and help feed her starving children.
“This is it.” I thought to myself as I stood next to Penninah in her field. “This is how I’m supposed to be helping end poverty.”
The challenges of her difficult life, the loss of her husband, the concerns for her children brought no shame, no embarrassment. Her life is difficult, but she has hope.
A simple irrigation pump. That she bought. This is what saved her.
Before packing up we asked one final, yet obvious question. “What does this pump mean to you?”
Smiling sweetly, Penninah replied, “It’s my miracle.”
Happy Mother’s Day to miraculous mothers everywhere, and the simple miracles that sustain us all.
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