There is a place in Kenya where a love of life
and the fear of death walk hand in hand.
I’m encouraged by the other women and their stories.
I now know that I'm not alone,
that I’m not the only one who this has happened to.
My husband would’ve killed me if I hadn’t fled.
Five o'clock in the morning in the land of the Samburu in northern Kenya.
The sun is still hiding behind Mount Kenya.
But the day has already begun in Umoja.
Nairiamu Ledokode has found refuge in one of the traditional 'manyattas'.
For now.
The 37-year-old only recently arrived
in Umoja – the village of women.
Jane Lengo'pe has taken her in:
Good morning.
How are you?
Thank you, I'm fine.
Can I have a tea?
Jane still doesn't know much about the young woman.
She cautiously feels her way forward.
Nairiamu, why did you come here?
I have a lot of problems at home.
You are safe here in Umoja you are safe.
You can relax here.
The women live together here, young and old.
We do everything together.
From now on, you won't go anywhere alone.
We stick together.
The name of the village is no coincidence:
Umoja means 'connectedness' in Swahili.
It’s been Jane’s home for over 33 years, the women are her family.
She wants the same for Nairiamu.
When Nairiamu first arrived, it was clear how distressed she was.
Her clothes were worn out and she was starving.
She wasn't well when I first saw her.
And that's exactly what Jane wants to change.
She takes Nairiamu under her wing.
She wants to show her that things are different
here in the village of women.
Very different from the rest of the savannah.
Nairiamu even gets a welcome gift.
Nairiamu, these are for you.
Nairiamu can hardly believe it.
Samburu women are not entitled to any property.
Not cattle.
Not land.
Not even the children they bear.
Wives become their husband’s property during weddings.
This is my goat now.
I don't know what to say...
Goats actually belong to men.
This is the first thing I’ve ever owned on my own.
They’re breaking a taboo
and it's not the only one.
These women want to change a world in which they have no rights.
To empower themselves.
Women can’t own livestock?
Here they own a whole herd!
The rest of the village is now awake.
An official gathering will soon be held under the big acacia tree,
the women’s traditional meeting point.
Nairiamu has already found shelter in Umoja,
but only one person can grant her permanent residency:
Rebecca Lolosoli, the founder of the village.
She is a key center of power for the 48 women.
And since she now lives outside Umoja, she has not yet met Nairiamu.
Welcome, everyone OK?
Yes.
Did you all sleep well?
Yes.
Rebecca wants to know more about the new arrival.
Word’s got around in Kenya that Umoja helps women.
But it’s not about feeding the needy
Rebecca’s mission is to protect women in danger.
I welcome you.
We have some things to talk about.
You know why this village is here?
Yes, I know why.
I first want to know how you got here?
How did you hear about us?
I came from far away.
I walked for almost two days.
Another woman told me about Umoja and then I asked around.
I had a fight with my husband
it was bad, I wasn't safe anymore.
Are you poor or have you been beaten?
Both.
We’re poor too.
Listen carefully:
we don't want any stress here.
We've left that behind.
We share everything and do everything together.
Because we’re a community, we’re only strong as a team.
We won't let you out of our sight,
and the women will show you how life is here.
I'm only here occasionally.
Rebecca's words carry weight, but she’s not the head of the village.
Umoja is democratic.
The women decide collectively.
Only one rule isn’t up for debate:
Nairiamu, welcome.
Listen carefully, men are not allowed here, none at all.
You cannot bring a man into the village, even if you fall in love.
Otherwise we'll all have a problem.
We live here together among women, as you’ve seen;
there are no men and there will be no men.
Clear words from Rose Lekanta, the village teacher.
Nairiamu is now part of the community.
We’ve discussed everything.
Let's say goodbye.
God be with you.
Security and solidarity
New feelings for the women who seek refuge here.
The Samburu social order is patriarchal,
which is what led Rebecca to create a different world 33 years ago.
We founded Umoja in 1990, because Samburu men are violent.
This village is for women.
For women who’ve been driven out
of their homes or have had to flee.
For widows and for children.
A single woman’s strength has given many women a life worth living.
But it’s hard to imagine the courage Rebecca must have needed back then.
The Samburu were originally a nomadic people.
The men rule the family,
they eat first and they can marry several women.
They can also beat them.
Rebecca left her violent husband and met women with a similar fate.
They looked for a place close to the Samburu National Park.
They wanted to sell jewellery to safari tourists.
When we started Umoja, we didn't know if we could survive on our own.
But today we earn our own money! We get donations.
Nobody goes to bed hungry.
And we can send our children to school.
School is the most important thing for children.
They learn what their rights are there.
The school is the village’s pride and joy.
It’s financed by donations
and a few children from outside the village are picked
to attend free of charge.
One place is still free this year.
There are two girls being considered
Yes, both have troubled backgrounds.
We have to make the right decision.
Children get pregnant because they’re poor.
Men offer money to poor families.
And parents agree to a marriage because
they can't feed all the children.
It's terrible.
Yes, we have to prevent it.
We can protect them at our school.
Yes, and the girls will pass on our values
and use what they learn to help the community.
Girls don’t just get a spot at the school.
In exchange for a free education,
their fathers have to agree to not marry off their daughters early,
and to forego her circumcision.
Both practices are officially forbidden in Kenya.
But the Samburu pay little heed.
Girls who attend our school don’t only study
to become a nurse or a doctor one day.
They also learn that they have rights.
They have the right to reject genital cutting and marriage.
And they’ll spread the news to other girls.
They’ll learn just as much as the boys, and then bring home
just as much money for their families.
That’s how girls will finally be valued as much as boys.
They have decided who to accept.
Rose and Jane will visit the family the next day
to win over the father.
I'm very proud of what we've created.
This bond we have, this place of respect.
And I also know now that they can manage fine without me.
The women have become very independent, especially financially.
Jewellery is their main source of income,
and the pride of their culture.
The Samburu are known for their magnificent beaded jewellery.
Neighbouring tribes call them "the butterflies".
A collar like this weighs a good eight kilos.
The women only take it off to sleep.
I've been wearing this jewellery since I was a small child.
And I was also taught early how to make my own necklaces.
It's just part of my culture.
The beads are not just ornamental.
They also remind the women of the Samburu tradition
where young men can reserve girls
for themselves with gifts of beads
for sex whenever they want.
The family is not allowed to refuse.
If the girls become pregnant,
they’re forced to have an abortion and are then married off
to an older man in exchange for a dowry. Even when they’re underage.
My daughter was still a baby when I came to Umoja with her.
She won’t be a bead girl.
I’ll protect her from that.
Here I’ve learned that beads can also help us.
We now earn money with them.
Karimi Lemantile has only been in Umoja for six months.
I come from Seya, three days' walk away.
I was on the run when I heard about the women's village.
Somehow I found my way here.
It was my salvation.
Look:
this is where he stabbed me with the bush knife.
It bled so much.
I'm very sorry.
And you know what?
He didn't even take me to the hospital.
That's when I decided to run away.
He could have done more to you.
My whole life was one big horror.
Did you love him then?
I never loved him.
And I'm glad to be rid of him.
I feel better now, and I don't want to see him again.
Nairiamu, just be careful the same thing doesn't happen to you
as it did to Karimi:
Imagine
one night her husband showed up here and just grabbed her.
She screamed loudly.
We all ran over.
And threw stones at him.
We chased him away, out of the village.
Talking about their experiences gives the women their voice back.
They don’t want to be victims any longer;
they want to take their lives into their own hands.
And to do better than the men
to create a more peaceful world.
63-year-old Suzan Cheele and her grandson would normally
not be allowed on this side of the river.
She belongs to the Turkana tribe, the arch-enemy of the Samburu.
The conflict between the Samburu and the Turkana
was especially bad when I came here.
I fled one night when people were being killed like animals.
Whether Samburu or Turkana, in Umoja all women are equal.
After all, they face the same problems.
I can't stand men anymore.
Not even the sight of them.
Once I bumped into my husband outside.
I was paralyzed.
All the memories came flooding back, the beatings, the violence.
I couldn't stop crying.
I can't stand men anymore.
But the women of Umoja can’t completely
avoid the male world of the Samburu.
They have to get food, such as rice and beans, at least once a month.
They have to go to the next largest village, Archers Post.
Today the women want to buy a billy-goat.
But men trade with men here.
The women always come in a large group
and try to show as much self-confidence as possible.
Their appearance is a personal affront
for the young Samburu warriors.
Are you in charge here?
Get lost!
You're supposed to sell us a goat, not tell me what to do.
What do you need a goat for?
To eat, of course.
What about this one?
Come on, name a price.
23T thousand shillings.
Which one?
The fattest one, of course.
The women go away empty-handed.
But giving up is not an option.
They try the next dealer:
What do you want?
We’re free people.
I'm not giving you a goat.
7T thousand 8H hundred shillings, or get lost.
Yeah, you show them, get out!
7T thousand 5H hundred or get out of here.
Make us a fair price.
Normally a goat costs around 4T thousand Kenyan shillings,
or about 30 euros.
The women won’t give up.
They know where we come from.
They know that in Umoja only children and women will be eating the meat.
They don't like it and want to humiliate us.
We’re at a disadvantage and can't get a fair price.
But the women persevere, and finally succeed.
It's a struggle every time, but we got what we wanted.
That makes me happy.
And the icing on the cake?
The goat is healthy enough to feed the whole village.
The men are somewhat baffled.
Goats and cattle have always been the Samburu's greatest asset.
Up till 40 years ago, they still lived as nomadic herders,
but more and more of their land was usurped and today the majority
of the tribe live in permanent villages.
The hut design is age-old.
The frame of the manyattas, a timber lattice,
is plastered with mud and cow dung and covered with animal skins,
grass mats, and now sometimes also plastic.
It’s physically strenuous work,
which in Umoja is only done by the women.
Nairiamu will soon move into her own hut.
But the roof of her future manyatta is leaking.
Rose, Suzan and Christin have collected cow dung,
which they knead into a paste with ash and water,
a kind of mortar that acts as a sealant.
For me, life is easier without men.
I can do what I want.
I don't have to get permission from anyone.
Yes, exactly.
We've always done everything anyway
while the men sat under the tree in the shade playing marbles.
That's right.
We did repairs, cooked, washed
milked, fed the animals.
Umoja is not only a safe haven for women,
but also a functioning cooperative.
We share everything and hardly ever argue.
But we’re also women and sometimes we get on each other's nerves.
It's usually about who made the most beautiful jewellery
or sold the most.
The women carved out their own independence.
A real home.
The basic principles they live by
respect and solidarity
are a stark contrast to the world they came from.
Rose and Jane set off early to visit the girl accepted to the school.
They’re eager to see if they can convince her parents.
If the father refuses to sign the contract, we can't do anything.
Rose and Jane walk for about an hour to reach the village
of Samella Lepikanto.
The family recently had to sell their last goat just to survive.
Girls from such poor families are at a
high risk of being married off early.
The deal would secure a father several cows
from his daughter's future husband.
But Rose and Jane want to protect Samella.
Will her father agree?
Hello.
My name is Rose, and I come from the women's village of Umoja.
We’d like to admit your daughter to our school free of charge.
Thank you very much for this offer.
But why did you choose our daughter?
And will Samella still come home?
A school bus will collect Samella and bring her home too.
We want to help poor families to give their children an education.
You can't pay for your daughter to go to school, can you?
That's why we want to support you.
We are very grateful to you.
We couldn't even buy school books.
But the parents don't know the conditions yet
We have clear guidelines:
no genital cutting, no child marriage.
We have a contract.
And you have to sign it.
There are problems, that's clear.
The other men will ask me why I'm going against our culture;
Samella would be the first girl in our village not to be circumcised.
But I've heard that circumcision can be bad for the girls
and can make them sick.
And that even the government’s against it.
So I won’t have Samella circumcised.
And I want her to go to school too.
I wasn't allowed to myself.
It’s a surprisingly positive response.
The deal is agreed sooner than expected.
7-year-old Samella has no idea what she’s avoided.
What is she looking forward to?
I'm looking forward to school breaks!
Rose and Jane’s mission was successful.
The village is full of excitement.
Preparations are underway for the new school year celebration
a very special day for the women.
The mothers wash their youngest children's hair.
And schoolchildren's heads are shaved as part of the tradition.
Nairiamu even bathes her little son.
He’s her youngest.
She had to leave four sons behind when she fled.
I often think about them,
I don't know how they are.
Now school’s starting here and I wish they could go too.
Maybe there’ll be a chance to bring them here later.
Nairiamu is slowly adjusting to her new home.
I’m encouraged by the other women and their stories.
I now know that I'm not alone,
that I’m not the only one who this has happened to.
My husband would’ve killed me if I hadn’t fled.
While the village is strictly off-limits to men,
Umoja's sons can live with the women until they come of age.
Then they have to leave the village.
But they leave with what their mothers have taught them.
The village school stands for a new and better future.
The festival is the most important celebration of the year for Umoja.
And the goat’s slaughter is part of the festivities.
They use the entire animal to ensure the whole village can benefit.
Jane is a co-founder of Umoja.
She’s proud of the path she’s taken.
I didn't know
when I left home I didn't know,
if I could survive without a man
and today I can eat all I want.
While half of the women prepare the food
others collect firewood.
We need a lot of wood, more wood.
For what?
For our fat goat.
This is going to be great.
And who slaughtered it?
We slaughtered it.
And we’ll drink the blood.
We’ll go to sleep full and satisfied.
Mama Rebecca is also coming to the feast.
The villagers are rehearsing songs and dances in her honor.
The lyrics still need some practice.
And Nairiamu is still getting the hang of things.
The surprise is a success.
Rebecca shows her appreciation by mingling with the dancers.
The weather is cooler and the feast is ready.
Goat meat with potatoes, rice, tomatoes and cabbage.
Meat is expensive and special.
The women’s diet consists mainly of vegetables, fruit and cereals.
Do you remember when we bought our very first goat?
Sure, I'll never forget it.
That was fun.
The men chased us after we left the market.
They couldn't believe it:
Why do you have a goat?
For us.
Who will slaughter the goat?
We will.
Who’ll eat the meat?
We will!
It still feels so good to eat the best parts of the goat.
The parts we’d never get.
Viona is only 13 years old.
She’s had a sheltered childhood in Umoja.
She grew up here and has internalized the women’s values.
When I'm old enough, I want to go to university first.
I don't want to get married.
I'd rather stand up for human rights.
If I ever change my mind,
it will only be for a man who really loves me and respects my rights,
but from what I know, there are no such men.
Today is not just any day for 7-year-old Samella.
It's her first day at school.
Listen to what the teachers say.
Take care, have fun, and I can't wait to hear all about it.
I'm so happy that my daughter’s getting an education.
None of our family has ever been to school.
I’m so grateful.
And Samella's mother can rest assured that the school bus
will bring her daughter home safely this afternoon.
This will be Samella's second home for the next eight years.
That's how long she can go to school here.
And while the older pupils quickly tidy up the classroom
a new chapter begins for Samella and her classmates.
Rose, the teacher, doesn't want to miss this special moment either.
The principal registers Samella.
He’s one of the few men allowed here.
The first graders are between six and eight years old.
We’re going to sing the elephant song.
Learning Swahili and English
Kenya’s two official languages
is the most important thing for the first graders.
Of the more than 50 languages and dialects in the country,
Samella only knows Maa, the language of the Samburu.
I want to learn math, writing, Swahili and English.
The classes are mixed.
The next generation of Umoja
the boys as well as the girls
are to carry the village philosophy into the future.
I know that all these girls won’t have to suffer what I did.
We protect them from genital cutting and child marriage.
I’m so happy for these children.
For Samella,
the part of school she's been looking forward to finally begins:
recess!
With hot chocolate and toast for lunch.
The women of Umoja go to bathe in the evening in the nearby Ewaso river.
They want to show Nairiamu where it is safest.
The washing ceremony always begins with a noisy ritual
to scare off the crocodiles that live in the river.
Vigilant and exuberant at the same time;
it’s how they face so many of life’s challenges.
The time by the river is almost sacred for the women.
Doesn't that make you happy too?
Bathing and washing, like when we were children.
Nairiamu has become part of the community.
I'm fine, I'm free now and can do what I want.
I was so stressed before, arguing with
my husband about every little thing.
Umoja has shown me that I can survive on my own,
that there’s always a way.
It’s given me strength.
I fall asleep unafraid.
I live in peace.
The women of Umoja dreamed of a better life.
And worked to turn those dreams into reality.