When Eunice Sikamoi, 19, prays at AIC Rongai's Sunday service, she does not pray for school fees or better grades or even for her health.
"I pray, 'Oh God, please bless everyone of us as we proceed'," she says with her buoyant smile. In conversation, her round black eyes are anchored and bright. In a single look, she somehow manages to demand respect and seems to teeter on the verge laughter.
That confluence of confidence and jocularity has served her well. Throughout high school, she worked as a bank teller at a local convenience store--a sort of human ATM behind a cage with the title "Equity Bank agent 031055." There, she met nearly everyone in Rongai town and the surrounding villages, depositing their paychecks, meting out their withdrawals, and handling their finances.
That experience developed in her an interest in accounting, so after finishing form four last November, she wanted to attend university to pursue that enthusiasm--and eventually, a career.
But like so many other youth in this area, poverty stunted her growth.
Primary education in Kenya is free, but secondary comes with a few fees that many smallholder farmers find prohibitive. Four years ago, her father told her she did not need secondary school, so Eunice began to work as a teller in order to support her education.
Work sometimes meant days away from the classroom though, and her grades began to drop. Despite her diligence, she ended high school with a C+ average. The Kenyan government provides university scholarships for all students with a B+ and higher.
Still, as a teller, she knew a lot about savings and had put aside a small fortune. While most of that money was supposed to go towards university, two years ago she also began paying her younger brother's high school fees. Their parents announced they could not afford secondary school fees for anyone. Eunice is the second of four and the only girl.
Upon graduation, she promised herself that after a year of working full time, she would enroll in university.
But a month ago, she was flooded by a wave of symptoms--first faintness and headaches, then suddenly fever and vomiting, intestinal irritation and even red spots. It was malaria and typhoid; she says she somehow contracted both, at once.
Three weeks later, she emerged from the Rongai Health Centre, finally restored to the vigorous young woman she was. But her savings have taken a huge hit. Now, she barely has enough to cover her brother's fees, let alone consider university.
No matter, she says. She will go back to work and start again.
This week was her first back in an AIC Rongai pew, and she shines in a primrose yellow dress with brown sleeves, her hair braided and pulled back in a silver scrunchie. Despite her troubles--health, family, education, and future--she saunters to the front of her congregation to lead the choir in a lively Swahili hymn--as always, with that smile.
