Berkley Center

Background: Sr. Georgette Sidbewendin Sawadogo has established and now manages a center in Karen, Nairobi, Kenya. As an innovative training hub mainly for girls from impoverished neighborhoods, it focuses on developing life skills, professional skills, and an entrepreneurial spirit. A native of Burkina Faso and a sister of the Catholic Society of Donum Dei, Sr. Sawadogo is deeply dedicated to the dual principles of charity and sustainability. In her conversation with Katherine Marshall (via Zoom) on September 22, she shares her vocation as a sister and her faith journey in Kenya, where she began with no resources and relied solely on, as she states, the guidance of the Holy Spirit. She emphasizes the strong vocation of her order and the serendipitous circumstances that led to the founding of Roussel House. She is completing a PhD on social entrepreneurship, demonstrating her sharp focus on the vital need to ensure sustainability in the charitable efforts carried out by Catholic sisters and others to support those in need and help them achieve a better, more dignified life. She connects the crucial issues of trust to the capacity to meet basic human needs and foster a sense of security.

I'm delighted to see how the fruits of my religious life and missionary journey have grown, from a small container to a house that now can accommodate nearly 100 people, and train 242 students. My happiness as a missionary comes from being able to give back to society what I have received and to bring happiness to others. I can restore dignity to young women who became mothers at a very young age; some of them, because their families cannot afford it, are unable to return to school. We offer them another chance to succeed in life. I often say that my life is a social contract, and I must give back.

As religious communities or congregations, we are called to provide solutions to specific societal issues. In this case, the most significant problem I identified was training young people, especially mothers living in slums who lack education. When you are a mother at a young age and do not have a job, the likelihood that your child will follow the same path is high.

I wanted the girls to see something different, and where we are, it is different. We provide them with a modern training facility and up-to-date equipment, and you can see the joy of those students. For some, when they hold a laptop in their hands for the first time to use for themselves, it feels like the whole of heaven is in their hands.

Biography: Sister Georgette Sidbewendin Sawadogo, SDD; from Burkina Faso, is affiliated with the Society of Donum Dei and has been serving in Kenya since 2001. She was a member of the Women Faith Leaders Fellowship 2024-2025 cohort. With a Bachelor of Arts in counselling psychology and a Master of Arts in organization management, she is committed to advancing social transformation through educating and empowering young women. She is completing her Ph.D. degree in social entrepreneurship at Tangaza University. As the mission superior and director of St. Therese Technical and Vocational Training Centre, she leads a dynamic team that delivers innovative educational programs, promoting academic excellence and holistic development. At Roussel House, she fosters an environment that balances spiritual growth with professional development, equipping young women with the skills they need to thrive. Grounded in the belief that education holds the transformative power to reshape communities, she is committed to inspiring the next generation of female leaders.

I was so sorry to hear that your recent visit to Burkina was for your mother’s funeral.

Yes, I attended the memorial mass a year after my Mom died. We had a very beautiful farewell. We thank God. She was 82, and in Africa, they say if you reach 82 years, you have gone back home. People were dancing, celebrating, and singing for her. She left a legacy through her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

There is something wonderful in the African tradition of celebrating a life, more than simply mourning.

Can you tell me first, a bit about where you were born, and how you came to be a sister, how you came to Kenya, and a bit about your order.

 My name is Georgette Sawadogo. My middle name is Sidbewendin, which, in our mother tongue, More, means “the truth is in God”. Later, my father, before he died, said, "I wish I had another chance to rename you; I would have called you Gulswende, which means 'your story was written in the hands of God.’" That is the last name he gave me before he died.

I'm from Burkina Faso, born into a family of both Catholic and Muslim faiths. My father was a devout Catholic, and my mother came from a very strong Muslim family. She converted to become a devout Catholic after marrying my father. We are six children, five girls and a boy. I am the fourth. I was a very ill child, to the extent that my father once thought I would surely die. But by God’s grace, I am here serving as a missionary in Kenya.

Where did you do your education: primary and secondary?

I completed my primary and secondary education in Burkina Faso. My early schooling began in Bobo-Dioulasso and was completed in Ouagadougou, where my intellectual formation was accompanied by a deepening sense of purpose and calling.

And how did you decide to be a sister?

At the age of sixteen, while still in secondary school, I joined the Sisters of Donum Dei, an encounter I believe was divinely ordained.

Rooted in the profound call to "re-establish and carry on the dialogue between God and humanity," Donum Dei Sisters, an international Catholic congregation founded by Father Marcel Roussel in 1950 in response to the immense suffering of the underprivileged, is dedicated to serving the most vulnerable. The Sisters answer Jesus' plea, "Give me a drink," by empowering marginalized individuals through education, technical and vocational training, holistic care, and social services. Our programs, focusing on women, single mothers, and youth, aim to restore dignity and self-sufficiency to those most in need, heal the wounds of societal neglect, and provide opportunities for a better future.

Our work aligns with the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals, particularly in reducing poverty, ensuring quality education, promoting gender equality, and reducing inequalities. The mission also supports zero hunger and good health and well-being goals, contributing to global efforts towards a more just and equitable world and reflecting our commitment to holistic social transformation. A hallmark of the Society is its L’Eau Vive (“Living Water”) apostolate: a global network of evangelizing in restaurants and hospitality centers. These spaces serve as environments of welcome and dialogue, where faith is shared through service and fraternity. Donum Dei is internationally present across Europe, Africa, Asia, the Americas, and Oceania.

My vocation story began quite unexpectedly. One afternoon, as I was returning home from school, I met a remarkable African woman standing by the roadside, graceful, composed, and strikingly intelligent in her demeanor. I greeted her politely and continued on my way, but she stopped me and asked, “What is your name?” I answered, “My name is Georgette.” She then asked, “Don’t you want to become a sister?” Surprised, I replied, “Not really. I’m a student,” and went on my way. That was my first encounter with Sr. Martine Toé, who would later play a significant role in my discernment.

Three years later, during a visit to the cathedral, I met the same sister again. She recognized me immediately and invited me to visit her community. When I did, she said to me, “I can see you have a vocation; I see it in you.” Once again, I told her that I was still a student and had not considered such a path. She encouraged me gently, saying I could visit whenever I had time.

That same evening, when I returned home, my mother unexpectedly asked me, “Don’t you want to become a sister?” I was astonished; it felt as though both God and others were calling me to something I did not yet understand. I replied playfully, “Yes, I want to be a sister, but not one who wears the same dress every day, from January to December!” My mother laughed and said that such sisters did not exist, that all sisters must have a veil and a uniform habit. I responded, half-seriously, that I could not wear the same thing every day.

That moment marked the beginning of my journey toward religious life. This path would blend education, faith, and service into the mission that continues to guide my life and vocation today.

A while later, a seminarian from our village was to be ordained as a deacon for the church at the cathedral of Bobo Dioulasso. We all travelled from the village to support and encourage that young man. For the third time, I saw the same sister after several months. She greeted me, asking how I was and when I would visit. I replied that I would come in August when school closed. I then visited them, and she welcomed me kindly, explaining their way of life. She told me they were sisters, but they don't wear veils or white dresses; instead, they wear our national dress or African clothes. I said, "Wow, that is what I wanted." I asked her about the conditions, and she said, "You must finish your secondary school, pass very well, then you make an application, and a Catholic priest must recommend you." I went home and told my family that I had met sisters who did not wear white dresses, dressing just like African women.

So, I decided to join the sisters. My first contact was with my parish priest, Father Philip Wattara. We visited on a Sunday and met with the sisters. I saw the other young sisters. The interaction was very simple, and it felt as if they had known me for a long time. I felt a sense of belonging. I asked to join them. However, I had not finished my studies. I was very young, and my father insisted that I must continue my studies while I was in the community. They accepted, and the sisters enrolled me in college, allowing me to return to the community each day. I spent four years with them in Burkina Faso, completing my studies.

I was then invited to travel to Rome for religious formation in 1993. I spent a year observing the example of a fully functioning community, as well as experiencing student life. After a year, they asked me if I had truly made up my mind. I said yes, and I joined the formation house in France.

I then went to France for formation and made my first profession seven years later in 2000. After my profession, I was sent to Lisieux, a city in France, where our congregation had the formation houses. I spent time as an assistant formator and was also tasked with accounting and finance. Consequently, I studied in the mornings, afternoons, and evenings, and I also assisted in the community, including on weekends. In 2004, I made my final profession in Rome.

One evening on June 11th, 2001, around 11 P.M., I received a call from Rome. It was the General Superior who said, "Georgette, the Holy Spirit and I have decided to send you on a mission to Kenya." I replied, "You and the Holy Spirit? Which Holy Spirit isn't sleeping at midnight?" because it was nearly midnight in France. I asked her, "What am I supposed to do in Kenya?" She told me, "The Holy Spirit will tell you what to do. You go, and he will guide you." She added, "And you'll be leaving on Thursday" (we were speaking on Tuesday evening). At that time, Kenya used to give visa on arrival: we didn't need to apply for a visa to travel to Kenya: you arrived at the airport, paid $50, and your visa was endorsed in your passport. She told me, "Tomorrow, go to Paris and you'll get your ticket from the community members there." And that is how I received my appointment to come to Kenya in 2001.

I arrived in Kenya for the first time at midnight on 13th June, as a young and inexperienced sister, unable to speak English since French is my working language. A sister came to welcome me warmly. Just imagine the contrast between Paris and Nairobi twenty-five years ago. Back then, at the airport, there were lights. Once we left, darkness enveloped us; there were no lights along Mombasa Road, Langata Road, and on Ngong Road, only silence and shadows. I sat quietly, wondering where the driver was taking me, asking myself where I was headed on that dark yet peaceful night.

The driver dropped me off at a small house, and he asked me, "Sister, which crime did you commit to be left in this forest?" It was truly a forest, with a three-bedroom house and a servant quarter, and that was all. The rest were tall trees without any fence or gate: nothing else. He dropped me off and drove away.

I woke up in the morning in Karen. It was very quiet. Karen was known as a suburb for white population and its very wealthy families, large properties. In Karen, people usually built their houses in the middle of a compound, so they are protected, surrounded by nature and their environment. I moved around and found no houses next to me, only large trees and lovely flowers. I asked myself, "Am I alone in this city?"

And that marked the beginning of Roussel House's mission, where I am today. I began the mission with nothing. That was both fortunate and challenging. When I left France, I was given $50, but I had no idea of its value in Kenyan shillings. I later realized it was not much money. I had to manage with that $50 to survive the first weeks, months, and years of my mission. I began my mission by praying all day long, and then I slept at 5:00 in the evening, as it was dark and most of the area was shaded by large trees. My companions included chameleons, monkeys, and other small animals, so I often locked my door at 6:00 to keep the monkeys out. Gradually, I told myself, "Sister, you must survive because there's nothing else to do." I was given no guidance, did not speak English, and knew no one. I experienced culture shock. But I had to survive.

I decided to explore around Karen and walk between Nairobi and Karen. Those who know Karen are aware that it is some distance from central Nairobi, about 20 kilometers. I wanted to find out where the embassy of Burkina Faso was, but I was informed there was no Burkina Faso embassy in Kenya at that time. The French embassy handled matters for people wanting to go to Burkina Faso. So, I visited that embassy, and over time, I built a connection with the ambassador. He agreed to support us in drilling a borehole in our compound. With plenty of water, I decided to farm and planted cabbage, carrots, Sukuma (local kale), and spinach. It was successful, and people began coming to buy produce. After four years, I had accumulated enough capital to start the mission.

Early on, about four months after I arrived, I met a young girl one morning. She was 17 or 18 years old, walking alone, without shoes, talking to herself, on the opposite side of the road. I walked over to her and asked if she was alright. She said she was heading to see her auntie in Ngong Hills, which is 17 kilometers away from where we were. I told her to come with me. I learned that she had a sick child in Kenyatta Hospital, and she was going to ask her auntie for some money to pay the hospital bill. We shared breakfast, and she tried to explain. With my limited English, I agreed to accompany her to visit the child. But when we arrived, we were told the child had passed away. With the little money we had, I helped the girl take the boy to the mortuary. The next Sunday, she came to thank me for helping her.

That girl was called Mary, and with her, I started our vocational training center! Mary came every day and helped me with washing, watering the garden, and cleaning the house. She didn't know English, and my English was also limited, and I didn't speak Swahili, the Kenyan national language. We used to communicate with gestures: I’d tell her to go to the shop and bring spaghetti, and she’d go and come back with matches, and I'd say: "No, no, no, spaghetti." I’d have to explain so that she understood what spaghetti is. Slowly, slowly, Mary learned how to work very well. I showed her how to wash lettuce, prepare vinaigrette, make mayonnaise, and cook spaghetti and pasta. When a family from France arrived in Nairobi and was looking for a cook, I told them, "Why don't you take Mary, as she knows how to make French food." They took her into their home, and she did very well. That family one day cooked for the ambassador. He was very happy and said, "Why don't you start a training center? We are all struggling to get well-trained helpers for our offices and homes. Start a training center, and we'll send people there." They connected me with the families of diplomats working in Kenya, advising that people should contact Sister Georgette for staff training or to purchase items like lettuce, chicken and eggs. It was like a parcel coming from God!

Within a year, many students applied to join our training program. We began the vocational training center for cooking under a tree because we lacked a building; then, we assisted the students in securing jobs. They found employment easily, which improved their lives. Later, I met a man called Jonathan (May he rest in peace, as he died in a plane crash between Ethiopia in 2019). He employed some of our girls in his hotel. He told me, "Your girls are doing very well, but they don't have any certificates. Why don't you register the center for them to get a government-accredited certificate?" He helped me register the center with the government regulator. Later, we started working on projects to build a proper facility. The first building, called Roussel House, was an income-generating activity to support the work of the ladies we are training.

The mission has expanded from one girl to four, then to 12, then to 35, and today, with my nine sisters from five different countries, we are training 242 young people in the house at certificate level. Those who did not complete secondary school undertake a one-year certificate called Artisan, earning a certificate after passing a government exam. Those who finish secondary school but do not achieve a good grade study for two years and receive a craft certificate. That program has two modules. Those who performed well in school with a grade C or above pursue a diploma for three years. Since 2006, at least 7,000 students have passed through the center, with some participating in group training, others pursuing a certificate or diploma, and most now working while supporting the center in various capacities.

I'm pleased to see how the fruits of my religious life and missionary journey have flourished, expanding from a small container into a training center and a guest house that now can accommodate nearly 100 people, and where we trained 242 students last year. My happiness as a missionary stems from giving back to society what I have received and bringing joy to others. I am able to restore dignity to young women who became mothers at a very young age; some of them, because their families cannot afford it, are unable to return to school. We provide them with another chance to succeed in life. I often say that my life is a social contract, and I must give back. That is all I can say.

What a remarkable story. But tell me more. You joined an order where one of your criteria was that they not wear the uniform. But what was it that attracted you and how have you worked with the community? You said the Holy Spirit sent you to Kenya. As you look back, what did that mean? How was your congregation involved in Kenya?

Good questions. Firstly, people are referred to in various ways. Why was I drawn to a community that didn't require a veil or a white dress? I think it's connected to my personality. I'm someone who cannot do the same thing every day, and that makes me an innovator and an entrepreneur. I enjoy changing clothes, colors, and designs, always doing something new and different, and I can say that perhaps that’s a gift from God. Whatever I start, it truly lifts me, so I follow it and then create something else. I couldn't see myself having the same life and routine from January to December. That was the first reason I was looking for a congregation that would allow me to dress as I wished, and I found it.

Second, to answer your question about why they said the Holy Spirit was sending me: Kenya was our first mission country for English speakers. The sisters in Rome, where the decision was made, didn't precisely know the needs of the local population; you see, wherever we go, we respond to the local community's needs. Initially, we considered opening a restaurant. Some missions within our congregation operate a restaurant called Living Water (Eau Vive), so the sisters thought of establishing one. But when I arrived, I realized that was not what the local community needed. It took me time to assess and understand their real needs. As religious communities or congregations, we are called to offer solutions to specific societal problems. In this case, the most pressing issue I identified was the training of young people, particularly mothers living in slums who lacked education. When you are a young mother without a job, the chances that your child will follow similar footsteps are high. So, I chose to address the root cause of their problem: providing education to the mothers. An educated mother can better care for her child. Most young people coming to Nairobi originate from rural areas or villages, thinking they will find a better life here. But often, this is not the case.

One girl shared her story with me; many others have similar stories, but I will speak about just one, without mentioning a name. When she left her village, she thought she would find a better job to support her family. She stayed with a family member from her village. In Africa, we are all brothers and sisters; as long as we come from the same village and are neighbors, we call each other my uncle, my sister, or my cousin. So, the girl moved from the village and shared the single-room home of that brother from her village. He made advances towards her that she felt compelled to accept, as he was providing food and accommodation. She didn’t want it, but she had nowhere else to go. You can't cut the hand that feeds and accommodates you. Soon after, she became pregnant. I met her then, and we journeyed together as I supported her through her pregnancy. Later, I took her to the center, and today she is a happy mother, able to pay her rent. She is working in a restaurant not far from our center. Every Christmas and New Year, she brings us a gift. Ten years ago, that lady was a girl who couldn't even afford her transport to come to the center.

When the sisters sent me to Kenya, perhaps it was truly the will of the Holy Spirit, as they had no idea what the mission in Kenya would involve. They only told me to trust the Holy Spirit, and that the Holy Spirit would guide me on what to do. And indeed, it did: He showed me what the community was expecting, and we responded to their needs. Every day, in the center no less than 10 or 15 minutes, parents come to ask us to accept their children in one of the programs. and we are happy to assist them. The sisters who sent me wanted to initiate a mission, and the only way to begin was to trust the Holy Spirit. I often tell people that when we start with the Holy Spirit, extraordinary things happen. And that is precisely what occurred.

How did they have the land in Karen where Roussel House now stands?

Another good question! The land story is intriguing and happened by the grace of God. Land in Karen is known to be very expensive, mostly owned by wealthy families, whereas we are quite poor. We had some sisters working at the Biblical Centre for Africa and Madagascar, about 4.5 kilometers from where we are. The sisters were seeking a place to serve the congregation’s needs, but land in Karen was very costly. Then one day, a sister saw in the newspaper a small house with a tiny servant’s quarters, on two and a half acres. The owner was selling the land at exactly the amount our sisters had in their account for that land, so they decided to go and see it. At that time, it was very cheap, around 12 million KSh. The landowners were a couple. The wife explained that they were selling the land because the woman’s husband was ill and she wanted to take him abroad for treatment, which is why he had put the land up for sale at a very low price for a quick sale. So, the sisters bought the land. It was a gift from our founder because they acquired the land around the anniversary of our founder, Father Marcel Roussel-Galle. That’s why we named this place Roussel House.

Everything has a purpose. We did not choose to be in Karen, but maybe that was God’s plan—placing us somewhere easily accessible to different slums. Here we are in the middle, with Kibera not very far away, and Ngong, Dagoretti, and Kawangware also nearby. Most of our students walk from their homes to the center. I later saw it differently, as an example for my students. I tell them God wanted them to move out of the slums and come to Karen, where there are nice houses and wealthy families, so they can develop positive thoughts, saying to themselves, "I can escape the poverty in the slum”, and become what they aspire to be, like people in Karen.

Starting the center in Karen was not a joke for us because some wealthy family neighbors really didn't want the people from the other side to come near them. It wasn't easy, and I had to stand firm for our mission. One neighbor wrote to the city council saying that "Sister Georgette is bringing a slum next to his compound." I was called by the city council officials and went to their office. A man told me about the complaint that we were bringing the slum next to their compound, making them feel unsafe. I looked at him and asked, "Are you a Kenyan?" He said, "Yes, of course I'm a Kenyan." I replied, "Well, you are a Kenyan, and you’re telling me you don't feel secure in your own house, your own land, because Kenyans are using the road to walk to the training center? If you bought them a vehicle, they would be driving like people in Karen. But why are they walking? They're walking because they can't afford to buy a vehicle." At that time in Karen, 25 years ago, everyone was driving, unlike today when you mainly see people walking. When you saw a pedestrian, it was usually a babysitter, gardener, or washman with a small bicycle. They thought they were better than those of us who were walking. Today, the difference is less clear. It was a struggle to set up the center in the middle of Karen. The same neighbor took us to court four times because he didn't want the center next to his house. He wrote articles against us in the newspapers and posted photos, and I was called to government offices many times. But God cleared all those obstacles, and today we are a model training center in the center of Karen, with very easy access to all those low-income people we aim to serve. If the girls went to a training center in Kibera, what would really change? Nothing. I wanted the girls to see something different, and where we are now, it is different. We provide them with a modern training facility and up-to-date equipment, and you can see how happy those students are. For some, when they hold a laptop in their hands for the first time for their own use, it feels as if the whole of heaven is in their hands.

I am pleased to say that the sisters did well by telling me that the Holy Spirit would advise me on what to do. If instead they had told me, "You must stick to a restaurant or make a hospital or a school," perhaps I would not have had the impact we have today. For example, if I take a matatu (public transport) on Ngong Road to go to town, out of 20 trips, I only pay for my transport once. Usually, when I get on and want to pay, the driver will say, "No, sister. Don't pay because you trained my wife and today, she's working." Or someone in the matatu will say, "I'm paying for this lady," and as I try to pay, the driver tells me, "No, sister, this man paid for you." When I say, "But I don't know you," he says, "You trained my daughter and today she's working in this restaurant." Recently, four of us went: my three sisters and I, and when we reached town, I wanted to pay, and the driver said, "No, sister, this lady paid for all of you." I asked, "Who are you?" And she said, "Sister, you didn't know me? I'm your former student, and I was in your center 19 years ago. Today, I'm married and working in a restaurant in town." As missionaries, that is what we hope for: to touch women.

Tell me about your PhD and your studies.

When I arrived in Kenya, I was so busy building the center that I eventually became drained. The more you give, the more you need to receive as well. One day, a friend and brother from the De La Salle Brothers from Nigeria came to my office and, looking at me, said: "Sister, you are exhausted. You need to get out of this center at least once a week." He asked me for my ID, which I gave him. He then took his vehicle to Tangaza University, where he enrolled me in a counselling psychology course. He told me that he had paid the fee, filled out the forms, and that my classes would start the following Monday at 8:30, with sessions on Fridays and Saturdays. “You must get out of this office, go and learn psychology. It'll be helpful for what you are doing." Without much understanding why, I decided to listen and go. On the first day, we had to take English tests, and there were a thousand of us in a large room. When the results came out, they said I could continue with the classes even without more English courses – some Kenyans had to take English lessons, which surprised me since they already spoke English. But it motivated me to start. I found myself making new friends, sharing challenges with other sisters and priests in those classes.

I realized that in my struggle, I was not alone, and others are facing similar challenges. The psychology classes really changed my thinking about the whole thing.

I completed a three-year degree program and then pursued management courses at the same university, but in a different department. I completed my Master's in management in two years. That work really shaped the apostolate I am continuing today. Another priest from Australia told me, "Sister, I want to appreciate what you are doing, and I want to pay for you to do a PhD. Go and do social entrepreneurship so that you can have a full package with your background in counselling, psychology, and management. You can help the students with that knowledge, as well as better manage the Centre. With social entrepreneurship, you'll be able to help a whole group of sisters and your community." I asked him how I could manage the center while succeeding in a demanding PhD program. He enrolled me and brought me all the necessary papers.

I started the PhD program in social entrepreneurship in August 2022. Why? I realized that many of us, including many sisters, have talents, but sometimes we don't know how to develop them. When discussing social entrepreneurship, people often immediately think of business. But we can approach it differently, the way I do. I use my knowledge to help others, to start other programs, other apostolates, and ensure they are sustainable. I began the program and completed the coursework after one year. It took me some time to write my proposal because my mother was ill, and I was away for almost three months. I defended my proposal in February 2025. I'm working on the thesis and hope to finish it by the end of 2025.

My aim is to leverage my PhD work to offer more training and consultancy, drawing from my own experience and the knowledge I have gained. I wanted to share our experience, as we often don't talk about our own stories. The PhD has been a long journey, and I thank God for AOSK for their support. It has benefited me, and I hope I will be able to assist others and give back to society.

What is the main story you see as so essential?

I want people to understand that we cannot succeed today with donations alone. We need to take responsibility. I have the example of Roussel House: Our mission here today can sustain itself and even assist 242 young people. We are paying 26 trainers and workers to train our students. If we didn't have a surplus, would we be able to do that? No. Maybe donations will come, but when donations stop, what is the next step?

The program we followed for the Women Faith Leadership Fellowship truly shaped me holistically. I now have full confidence that I can continue giving back to society in a better way. I can support those with limited experience, and I have already begun doing so through this message. For example, I contacted sisters from different congregations to discuss the sustainability of our social enterprises.

We all, as Catholic sisters, have a social enterprise, and we need to define what that means. Our various apostolates undertake work that generates income to support the charitable activities we carry out. About three years ago, unaware of the upcoming cuts to USAID, the United States Aids Agency for International Development, I started discussing sustainability. Today, we are facing donor fatigue, specifically the issue of donors pulling back. Will we close our schools, hospitals, guest houses, or orphanages because USAID has ceased funding? Certainly not. So, how can we sustain our work?

That is what my PhD is all about: how we can sustain our missions, even if donor support stops, and it has already stopped in some areas. I saw an article reporting that more than 4,000 or 5,000 projects in Burkina Faso and Kenya have closed down because US aid has ceased. But as sisters, can we ignore the cry of the poor? No. Can we close our doors because we lack support? No. I asked myself, what can we do? I then researched deeply and realized the great potential. In the US, China, and Japan, sisters can fund themselves. How do they manage it? They have active, sustainable social enterprises. Can we do the same in Africa? That is the question I am asking today and endeavoring to answer. And yes, we can do it, because it is possible. I have long said that we possess that mindset. Because we are sisters, there are things we can do. And today, we must adapt to what’s happening in the world.

To start our training center, and Roussel House, with my sisters, we visited five different congregations that have guest houses to observe how they built their facilities. None of them allowed me to see a room, which I thank God for today, because we might have copied their approach. They claimed the rooms were occupied or that visitors were not permitted. Consequently, I told the architect to design our training center with a modern style, with large meeting rooms and bedrooms. The first sisters who saw the layout were shocked, exclaiming, "Why do you put couple beds in the rooms?” My answer was: ‘What is wrong with sisters welcoming couples into their house?’ We can have double or queen-size beds in our centers. However, that was not the mentality in our guest houses. We used to assign separate beds to couples. I decided to do things differently. Today, most congregations follow this example, installing large beds. I built the reputation of Roussel House based on this distinct approach. We must make a difference.

What was particularly significant for the fellowship for you?

One thing the fellowship helped me to realize is that I need to share our story and talk about what we are doing. Since returning to Kenya, I have decided to openly discuss my story. Locally, people are supporting my efforts, and it has already been a success, but I have been here for 25 years, and people haven't truly understood what I am doing.

Secondly, the fellowship has connected me with professionals who came to speak to us. Their insights have encouraged me to believe that yes, we can succeed. We can succeed without constantly relying on donations. And we can succeed locally. I have embarked on new journeys. When I called my sisters to discuss the sustainability of social enterprises, 151 sisters signed up for training, but 338 of them came. That was our first public contact, but I sense many sisters want me to speak with them. So, the fellowship has motivated me to step out of my room and become more well-known. What I value is the courage to say yes, this is my thinking, and this is my approach. I also learn from others. When we saw all those professionals come to speak to us, they shared their stories. I returned with a book of ideas for innovations, and I look at it and follow the ideas. And it's working very well. I am convinced!

A last question. We talk a lot now about trust. This obviously speaks to trust in the government but a specific question for us is trust in sisters. In French we're talking about confiance: would you say that has the same meaning? What do you think is eroding trust? As we lose trust, what can rebuild it?

We are losing trust simply because people’s basic needs are not being met. If a human cannot meet their basic needs, then you definitely cannot trust the organization or community you're working with. This is very important. Let me give a simple example: I am a sister, and I belong to a congregation. If the congregation cannot meet my basic needs today, could I truly trust that congregation? People seek different things from their community, but if you're not able to look after your sisters, someone outside must do so. You can't cut off the hand that feeds you. We tend to trust the person who provides for us, the one who is supposed to care for us and actually does so. It's a simple reality.

That is why we need to discuss sustainability. If we can't maintain our communities, we will gradually lose the trust of our community members. Someone might live in Kenya, but their thoughts are in the US because the person there is the one providing them with food or money to do A, B, C, D. So, it is a very real situation.

I'm sure you saw maybe two or three weeks ago two sisters fighting each other in a community, simply because of oil. It was on TV. One was asking for oil to make biscuits or mandazi, as I heard, to sell. The other one said, "No, we cannot take the oil because it does not belong to us." She ended up slapping her. It’s a lack of a basic need. Even sisters can behave that way if they can't meet their personal needs. We need to work in Africa to accept that even sisters should be fully happy in their community to build trust.

Why do some people cheat? We should ask ourselves why. If a person cannot meet their basic needs, they might cheat to fulfil that need. So, we must do our best to support our communities in a way that makes everyone feel secure. I should be able to buy a soda for my mother. It's not because I'm a religious sister that I can’t buy her a soda. In my experience, when my mother was dying in the hospital, as her daughter (we are six), we all stood around her bed and she could see us; I once asked her, "Mom, can I buy juice for you?" and she replied, "Yes, with a nice small. I need juice from the sister." Giving a gift to a parent is a sign of dignity. There were juices, but she wanted one from the sister, her daughter. However, if we must constantly beg because the community cannot provide for us, it will cause a lack of confidence and trust; we will then have to rely on those who feed us. This is my observation.

That's an insightful part of understanding the issue of trust, which of course leads to corruption and despair and everything else. Thank you. It was a joy to listen to you.