Mary Wanjiru’s deep-set wrinkles suddenly filled with enthusiasm as she happily guides us into her home. It was evident no one had visited her in a long time. Inside, an air of solitude engulfs the room. If she were 20 years younger, she would have cleaned up the place in half the time but now she slowly removes the jiko from the plastered floor and takes some dirty utensils from an old table at the centre of the room.
At 75-years-old her life is far from what she expected it to be as a young woman. She tells us of the lonely days when she talks to no one but her cat or chicken.