Supporting Women in Kenya: The Power of Microloans and Ethical Shopping
When I was 24 or perhaps 27—it was too long ago to remember—I bought a round-trip ticket to a faraway place called Nairobi. I was an adventurous, rebellious, risk-taking grad student (not a lot has changed), and for my thesis, I wanted to better understand the daily lived reality of women whom the world had forgotten.
Poor African women are often lumped into one homogenous category, void of all nuance and personality. I suppose it’s easier that way—if we don’t truly get to know them, then we don’t have to be a part of their suffering. We’re neither the problem nor the solution.
Decolonizing Research Through Microloans
Recognizing that academics can often be a part of the problem—they conduct research “on” people, publish it for a Western audience, advance their own careers, and yet not much changes for the very people who so graciously participated in their studies. In an effort to decolonize my graduate work, I chose to give back to the women who were core to my research, and to do so in a way that they clearly articulated: access to microloans.
In the early aughts, microlending wasn’t as ubiquitous as it is today. The only model that existed was the Grameen Bank, founded by Mohammad Yunus.
Yunus began his microlending with a $27 personal loan to $42 families in Bangladesh. I cashed in my savings bonds from my grandparents and started a small, relatively informal, micro lending program with the eight women who were part of my research project.
From Research Project to Nonprofit Organization
I would continue to travel back and forth to Kenya, and after a while, people asked me what I was doing on these trips. I explained I was giving small loans to rural Kenyan women to help finance their livelihoods, and to my surprise, people wanted to financially support my efforts. So what do you do when people start writing checks for your charitable work in an African country? You start a nonprofit even though you have no idea what you’re doing.
I learned many hard lessons during those first few years, but I was determined to build an organization that would be run by Kenyan women, enabling them to best serve the needs of Kenyan women. In the process of refining our model—we started with cash and then moved into products (a story for another time)—I was introduced to Monica, who would become the woman responsible for my vision coming to reality.
With a solid and knowledgeable team, a small office in Maungu, and a proven model for microlending, Zawadisha began to flourish.
The Transformational Impact of Microloans for Women
It was never easy—this kind of work isn’t meant to be—but we were witnessing firsthand how transformational it was in the daily lives of these women. Imagine one day you are spending the day walking to a water pan or well to fetch water, and the next day you have a water tank at your house. One day, you are lighting your house with dim and toxic kerosene, and the next, you have a three-bulb solar lamp with a switch that turns it on and off. Your children sit on the ground, and jiggers burrow into their bodies, and then the next day, you have chairs to sit on. The list goes on and on. Because when you have no electricity or water, a thatched roof and mud walls, and the inability to upgrade your life because the cost of goods is too expensive, Zawadisha’s microloans make the biggest difference in your quality of life.
We’re not trying to make grandiose claims that we’re alleviating poverty. We aren’t, as extreme poverty is structural and requires multiple interventions at every level. But we make life fundamentally better for women and their families, and that’s not nothing.
Pivoting Through Crisis: From Donations to Artisan Products
You might be wondering, how do we make the seemingly impossible possible? Well, that’s where you come in. Initially, we concentrated almost exclusively on expanding our donor base, with a primary focus on monthly donations. And it was doing quite well. And COVID hit, and the fear it invoked in people led to an absolute collapse of our donations. I had to figure out a new business model to keep it all going, so I started selling sisal baskets, made by the women in our community in partnership with Hadithi, at the local farmers' market. I built an online shop. I started to diversify the types of products we offered—sisal baskets grew into market baskets from Ghana, jewelry from South Africa, and so much more.
Compounding Impact: Supporting Artisans Across Africa
And we realized that the impact of our work was compounding. Not only were we providing small loans to women that radically changed their daily lives, but we were also supporting artisans from across the African continent. It was yet another investment in local communities, and that’s where real change happens.
And you showed up with the support we needed because you understand the impact. When you look at that basket on your shelf, you know how much love and craftspersonship went into making it, and you know that it directly funds our microlending program. You appreciated how your gift giving could be extra thoughtful and meaningful.
Zawadisha’s core work will always be microloans, and with your support—whether it’s a donation or the purchase of exceptionally crafted, artisanal goods from Africa—we’ll continue to be a beacon of light and joy for the women who I thought the world had forgotten. Because of you, we’re changing that narrative.