By Antonina Makoba | Uasin Gishu County, Kenya
At 26, Antonina Makoba became a widow. But in the days and months after her husband’s death, she says she experienced another kind of loss—one that was difficult to explain to people outside her community. She felt that her voice had disappeared. “I was called cursed, unclean, a bad omen,” Makoba recalls. “I was denied a voice at the table where my own property was being shared.”
For Makoba, widowhood was no longer simply about mourning the death of a husband. It became a struggle over dignity, belonging, economic security and the future of her children. Her experience eventually lead to the creation of Daystar Young Widows CBO, a community organization in Uasin Gishu County working with young widows and widowers below the age of 45.
When widowhood changes everything
For many families, the death of a spouse brings immediate emotional and financial consequences. A household can lose its main source of income. Children may face uncertainty over their education. Questions about land, property and inheritance can become urgent. At the same time, the surviving spouse may be dealing with grief while trying to rebuild a life.
Daystar identifies these overlapping challenges among young widows and widowers in its community. The organization says some survivors experienced property grabbing, illegal eviction, physical violence, psychological abuse and economic dependence. It also identifies lack of information about legal rights and referral pathways as a major challenge.
Stories from others; “I’m aged 39 years, my daughter was forcefully taken out of school by my sister in-law to work for her as a house girl. I tried to oppose but she said that I am a widow, I cannot afford to keep all my children in school. My child’s teacher came to visit one day and when she learnt what had happened she connected me with Child Helpline 116 Kenya who eventually connected me to Children’s Officer; Children Kenya”
Otieno – her husband – had died suddenly, leaving Achieng with two young children, a small piece of land, and a modest house they had built together. Achieng was still mourning when her husband’s relatives arrived. Among them was Otieno’s older cousin, Juma.
“We have discussed it,” Juma told her. “According to our tradition, you now belong to me.”
Achieng stared at him in disbelief. The relatives insisted that she had to accept Juma as her new husband. They told her that refusing would bring shame upon the family. They also threatened to take away the land and prevent her from seeing her children. Achieng lived in fear. Juma began visiting her home without permission, claiming that he had a right over her because she was a widow.
She was among the 10 widows who met under a tree, sharing her story with the members of the organization and together they searched for help by holding demonstrations on streets and also contacted people who could protect her and explain her rights.
FIDA, the Federation of Woman Lawyers in Kenya was contacted, it provided legal aid and it handled other cases involving widows being evicted from matrimonial homes and losing property. Achieng learned that tradition could not be used to justify forcing her into a relationship against her will.
She continued raising her children, worked hard, and slowly rebuilt her life. She kept the memories of her husband without allowing anyone to decide what her future should look like. Years later, her daughter asked her, “Mama, why didn’t you agree when everyone told you that you had to?” Achieng smiled. “Because being a widow did not make me less of a person. I had already lost someone I loved. I refused to lose my freedom as well.” Her daughter held her hand.
Widows on the street demonstrating for their rights. Photo By Truphosah
And for the first time, Achieng realized that the battle she had fought was not only for herself. It was for every woman who had ever been told that, after losing her husband, she had also lost the right to choose her own life.
But behind every statistic is an individual trying to rebuild. Makoba understands this personally. Her experience of stigma and the stories shared became the motivation for creating a space where young widows could meet, talk and support one another.
Daystar began with just 10 widows meeting under a tree, according to the organization. They came together to share their experiences, their fears and their hopes. The name Daystar reflects that journey. The organization explains that a daystar is the morning star—the light that appears after the darkest night. For the women who gathered beneath that tree, the symbolism was more than a name. It represented the possibility of beginning again.
From sharing pain to building livelihoods
Daystar’s approach has increasingly moved beyond awareness and emotional support toward economic empowerment. The reasoning is straightforward: financial vulnerability can make it harder for survivors to make independent choices or escape difficult circumstances. The organization has therefore incorporated table banking, business skills, financial literacy and livelihood development into its activities.
One of the stories shared by Daystar concerns a young mother of three who, according to the organization, was forced out of her matrimonial home and struggled to provide for her children. She eventually turned to sex work to survive.
A sex worker who joined table banking activities, received training and psychosocial support, running her own fast food kiosk and employs others. Photos by Swalah
Daystar says the woman later joined its table-banking activities, saving KSh500 each week. She also received business training and psychosocial support. Today, according to the organization, she operates a fast-food kiosk in Eldoret and employs another widow. Her children have returned to school.
The story is significant not because it suggests that one intervention can solve every challenge associated with widowhood, but because it demonstrates the kind of pathway Daystar is trying to create—from immediate vulnerability toward economic independence. For the organization, a livelihood is more than income.
It can provide choices. It can strengthen a family’s ability to meet everyday needs. And it can give a person greater confidence to participate in decisions affecting their own life.
Knowing your rights
Economic empowerment is only one part of the challenge. Daystar also focuses on legal awareness and rights protection. The organization says many widows do not know enough about succession procedures, property rights or where to seek help when disputes arise. Through community forums and village barazas, Daystar says it has helped women access information about their rights and connected more than 200 widows with information and opportunities involving programmes such as the Women Enterprise Fund, Uwezo Fund and Hustler Fund.
Healing beyond the courtroom
For Makoba and the women she works with, not every wound is visible. The organization describes social isolation, insults, grief and emotional abuse as part of the challenges that some widows experience. This is why Daystar has incorporated psychosocial support and wellness activities into its work.
The organization reports conducting health and wellness campaigns that include cervical cancer screening, mental health checks and blood-pressure checks. It has also establish peer-support circles and strengthen trauma-informed counselling.
Finding a collective voice
In June 2026, Daystar organized an International Widows Day event in Uasin Gishu that brought together around 5,000 widows. The event was presented as an opportunity for widows to be visible, connect with others and advocate for recognition of their concerns.
International Widows Day event in Uasin Gishu: Photo by Swalah
Regardless of the numbers, the event reflects a larger development in Daystar’s work: the shift from individual experiences toward collective advocacy. That ambition represents a move from responding to individual cases toward addressing the structures that shape people’s experiences.
The widows who are often not seen
Much of the public conversation about widowhood focuses on women. Daystar’s experience has also highlighted the difficulties faced by widowers. The organization reports seeing men dealing with emotional isolation, difficulties raising children and other pressures after losing their spouses. This broadens the conversation. Widowhood may affect women and men differently, but both can face disruption to family life, income, parenting and social relationships.
From ten women to a wider movement
Daystar records include more than 10,000 death certificates associated with the people represented in its work. Its programmes now cover awareness creation, psychosocial care, economic empowerment, legal advocacy, community inclusion and health.
Its stated 2027–2028 objectives include reaching thousands of young widows, expanding table- banking groups, strengthening legal support, reducing stigma, establishing peer-support circles and including widowers more fully in its programmes.The organization describes this as a move from emotion to strategy.
For Makoba, however, the story remains personal. She did not begin Daystar because she had a theory about community development. She began because she had experienced what it meant to lose a husband at a tender age and the feeling that the society had also taken away her voice.
The women who joined her under a tree were not simply looking for charity. They were looking for one another.
A different story about widowhood
The most important part of Daystar’s story may therefore not be the size of its ambitions, but the way it seeks to change the conversation around widowhood.
A widow should not be reduced to the circumstances surrounding her husband’s death. She is also a parent, entrepreneur, farmer, professional, community member, rights-holder and decision-maker.
The same is true for widowers. Reporting on widowhood requires care because the people at the centre of the story may already face stigma and vulnerability. Their experiences should not be turned into spectacles. Their stories can instead be told with dignity—showing both the difficulties they face and the decisions they make to rebuild their lives. When people who have experienced loss are given information, support, opportunities and a voice, they can participate in shaping the solutions to the problems affecting them.
Makoba describes the transformation in simple terms: from tears to table banking, from stigma to strength. For the women and men rebuilding their lives after widowhood, empowerment could mean something fundamental: not being defined by what they lost, but being supported as they build what comes next.
Contact: antoninamakoba21@gmail.com
daystaryoungwidowscbo@gmail.com
Antonina Makoba is the Founder of Daystar Young Widows CBO.
