Berkley Center

Background: This exchange between Sr. Murungi and Katherine Marshall took place in Washington DC on May 10, 2025, at Georgetown University (Sr. Murungi was part of the Women Faith Leader Fellowship there). She described her work with abandoned children, girls facing a pregnancy crisis and expulsion from their homes, and women struggling to support themselves in their communities. Sister Murungi traces the path to the work she does today, supporting women and girls in communities across different African countries. Her vocation has evolved over time, in relation to the history and distinctive charism of her congregation and her experience working with girls and women, in very vulnerable communities. The history of her congregation, the Sisters of the Good Shepherd, has been shaped by addressing the suffering caused by unjust structures and systems in the society, including after the French Revolution, when girls and women were in prison and without support. She highlights the inspiration of a dynamic religious sister, Saint Mary Euphrasia who saw the mission of protection extending far beyond her birthplace – France. The Sisters of the Good shepherd today focus on those at the margins following the footsteps of the foundress Saint Mary Euphrasia. The Congregation of the Sisters of the Good Shepherd carries out its mission by serving vulnerable children and families both within the homes they operate and through outreach in the broader community. Rooted in compassion and the dignity of every person, the Sisters respond to evolving government policies concerning children in distress, actively adapting their programs to meet emerging needs. Sr. Murungi highlights the importance of building meaningful partnerships — including with government agencies — grounded in mutual respect and shared commitment to human dignity. She also emphasizes the unique element of trust that Catholic sisters bring to these relationships, embodying a faith-based mission of mercy, justice, and reconciliation in every encounter.

I hope and pray that as partner organizations, as stable parts of society, as faith-based organizations, in collaboration with the government and other actors, we can come up with really sustainable solutions to these problems, that will support a child growing up in a family, in a home, and in a setup where they find themself both at home and at peace.

The Sisters of the Good Shepherd serve the community with wholehearted dedication, grounded in deep understanding and compassion. They recognize both the challenges and the strengths that shape the lives of the people they accompany. This genuine connection allows the Sisters to engage with the community without bias, working collaboratively to address specific issues and seek sustainable solutions. Even when lasting solutions are not immediately possible, the Sisters remain present — walking alongside the people with unwavering commitment. Over time, this faithful presence fosters deep trust between the Sisters and the communities they serve.

Bio: Sr. Teresia Kathure Murungi, is a member of the Congregation of Our Lady of Charity of the Good Shepherd, (Sisters of the Good Shepherd), currently working as the director of the congregation’s Mission Development Office, Eastern Central Africa Province. She is based in Nairobi and is a member of the Women Faith Leaders Fellowship 2024-2025 cohort. She focuses on building and strengthening the capacity of individuals and organizations, promoting integral human development, upholding human dignity, and contributing towards holistic and overall social transformation. Sr. Murungi has over 15 years of experience in management of community-focused programs and projects that put the empowerment of women, youth, and children at the center, implementing high-value programs in the fields of education, skills and vocational training, child protection and mentorship, social enterprise development, and women's empowerment. Her experience in management includes strategic planning, policy development, project cycle management, organizational change management, resource mobilization, and fundraising, among others. She holds a master's degree in social transformation with a specialization in organization management, a BA in leadership and management, diploma in social work and social development, and a diploma in spirituality.

Can we start with where are you from and your family. And how you came to be a sister?
My name is Sister Teresa Murungi. I was born in Kangeta, in Meru County, in the eastern part of Kenya (one of Kenya’s 47 counties). Meru is one of the major counties. I was born in a family of 10. I'm the fifth born in the family, with five girls, and five boys. Our nuclear family is 12. Both of my parents are still alive. Sadly, we lost our eldest sibling many years ago when I was just entering my teenage years. Today, the nine of us continue to follow our own unique paths and vocations in life, each in a simple and meaningful way.

My parents are both from the Meru ethnic community — the Merians — and have spent their lives as peasant farmers. From an early age, I was immersed in the rhythm of rural life. Like any child growing up in the village, my days after school were filled with responsibilities such as fetching water and helping on the farm. Much of what I learned came through observing my parents — their hard work, resilience, and deep connection to the land and to one another. It is within this humble, grounded environment that the foundations of my values, faith, and vocation were formed.

What inspired you as a young girl? When did you consider becoming a Catholic sister?

As a young person, I wasn’t particularly inspired by the material aspects of life or the common ambitions around me. What truly stirred something within me was the desire to be a good Christian and to grow in my faith. This desire was nurtured through catechism, the spiritual atmosphere in church, and my consistent participation in parish life. At that stage, I knew very little about religious life or its deeper teachings. All I understood was that being in church meant being close to God — being holy, happy, and able to serve. That simple understanding became my earliest and most powerful motivation.

Growing up in a deeply Catholic family was a blessing that shaped the path I would later walk. I was baptized at just three weeks old, during one of the priests’ regular visits to our small Christian community while blessing homes as was the practice. From a very early age, Christianity formed the foundation of my worldview. My parents, especially my father, were actively involved in the church. He served as a parish coordinator in the Small Christian Community at that time, and as children, my siblings and I naturally followed our parents for Mass and participated in church activities.

My first real encounter with sisterhood came through seeing the Consolata Missionary Sisters, who had often visited our parish. I also met Sisters of the Blessed Virgin Mary, who started a school in our parish, and later, the Sisters of the Good Shepherd, who eventually settled in the parish and are still present today. At that time, I didn’t understand the differences between congregations. I simply saw religious sisters as women who were close to God and who served others. That was enough for me. I didn’t know how I would serve, but I knew I wanted to dedicate my life to God.

As we heard from Saint Euphrasia during our formation, each congregation has a distinctive charism and mission that guides its orientation. But as a young person exploring vocation, I didn’t yet grasp that. What drew me was the witness of the sisters' lives — their presence, their simplicity, and their service.
My own vocational journey began in my home parish of Kangeta, where I met the Good Shepherd Sisters. At that time, there were three missionary sisters and two Kenyan sisters living in the community. One of them — an Indian sister who worked as a nurse at the dispensary — was especially approachable. I remember telling her that I wanted to become a nun. She asked me gently, “Are you sure? Have you spoken to your parents?” I told her that I had, and they were supportive. She continued asking questions: “How did you come to feel this call? What draws you to this life?” I explained that I had become more attracted to the life of sisters while I was still in school and had just completed my secondary education.

She was engaged in parish ministry and had seen me in some of the parish youth activities. During one event, she invited me to visit the sisters’ residence. “There’s a bell at the door,” she said, “come ring it. I’ll be there.” I remember her asking me if I wanted to become a nurse. I said no. She then asked, “Have you thought about what you want to do as you prepare to become a sister?” My response was simple: “I want to serve God.” I hadn’t yet understood that religious life could include professional vocations like teaching, nursing, or social work. My heart was simply set on living a godly life and growing deeper in faith.

The Sisters welcomed me with warmth and sincerity. They introduced me to the formation process and, about six months later, I was invited to spend two weeks with the community. I was told that when I felt ready, I could join a group of other young women who would begin formation later that year.
It was only after I entered the formation program that I began to fully understand the richness of religious life — the significance of charism, mission, and spirituality that shape each congregation. For the Sisters of the Good Shepherd, that mission of mercy, compassion, reconciliation, and the dignity of every person became not just an idea, but a lived reality I was called to be part of.

So that is how I happened to join the Sisters of the Good Shepherd!

What is the congregation’s history and mandate?

The Sisters of the Good Shepherd is an international religious congregation currently serving in approximately 68 countries around the world, with its generalate in Rome. Our administrative structure is organized into provinces, although we are now discerning a transition toward regional groupings for greater collaboration and flexibility. For example, the province in which I belong includes Kenya, Uganda, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) as one province. Across Africa, there are several other provinces with similar mission commitments.

Our congregation traces its origins to the vision of Saint Mary Euphrasia Pelletier, who founded the Sisters of the Good Shepherd in 1835. However, our deeper roots go back to 1641, when Saint John Eudes founded the Sisters of Our Lady of Charity. Saint Mary Euphrasia initially joined this congregation, and it was from within this tradition that she discerned a new call. She recognized the need for a more unified and responsive governance structure that could allow sisters to be sent wherever the need was greatest—across countries and continents—without the administrative limitations of localized autonomy.

At the time, religious communities were largely independent and autonomous in their structure. A mission founded in one part of France remained there indefinitely, with little or no capacity for sisters to be transferred even within the same country—let alone internationally. Saint Mary Euphrasia envisioned a centralized system that would allow sisters to move freely across borders, supporting one another and responding to urgent needs more effectively. This model enabled a rapid expansion of the mission, especially in times of hardship, and facilitated a more consistent and coordinated ministry to women, girls, and children on the margins of society.

With the blessing of the Church, she founded the Congregation of the Sisters of the Good Shepherd in 1835, establishing over 110 houses during her lifetime, across all continents. Her leadership was bold and missionary. Historical accounts tell us how she would bless novices and send them forth with faith and confidence, saying: “Go, multiply, and become shepherds wherever you will be.” It is through this missionary spirit that the congregation spread so quickly, particularly after her death in 1868.

Our spiritual and foundation headquarters is located in Angers, France, where the first Good Shepherd house was founded. It was from this house that the name “Good Shepherd” was drawn, inspired by the Gospel image of Christ as the Shepherd who seeks out the lost. Yet, Saint Mary Euphrasia never abandoned her roots in the original congregation. This is why the official name of our congregation remains Our Lady of Charity of the Good Shepherd. Over time, the name evolved—for example, at one point, we were known as Our Lady of Charity of the Refuge—but to reflect our growing international identity and reach, the term "Refuge" was eventually dropped. This allowed the congregation to be more universally recognized and able to send sisters to any part of the world to continue the mission.

At the heart of our congregation’s history and mandate is a deep, unwavering commitment to reconciliation, compassion, and the dignity of every person, especially women and children who are vulnerable, exploited, or marginalized. Our foundress envisioned a world where love and mercy could reach the most wounded places in society—and that mission continues today, across continents, cultures, and communities.

How would you describe the congregation’s essential mission?

At the heart of the Sisters of the Good Shepherd is the mission of reconciliation—restoring dignity, healing brokenness, and accompanying those who feel abandoned or excluded by society. This call to reconciliation is the very soul of our congregation, and it shaped the vision of our foundress from the very beginning.

In post-revolutionary France, following the upheaval of the French Revolution, countless women, girls, and children were left homeless, imprisoned, or living in extreme vulnerability. In Angers, where the congregation’s first house was established, a large prison stood next to the sisters’ convent. Saint Mary Euphrasia could not bear to witness so much human suffering and simply remain confined behind convent walls. She asked a radical question for her time: “What can I do to serve those women and children in prison, or abandoned on the streets?”

Her response was bold and creative. At a time when the Church discouraged women from moving freely in public, she found a way—constructing a hidden tunnel connecting the convent to the outside world. Through this tunnel, the sisters could reach out to imprisoned and vulnerable women, and likewise, the women and girls could enter the sisters’ house in safety and dignity. Once inside, they were welcomed, offered care, formation, and a new beginning.

This courageous act of love and inclusion became a symbol of our mission: to create a pathway back to life, especially for those who had lost everything—even, they believed, the mercy of God. Many of those Saint Mary Euphrasia served were rejected by society and had no place where they felt seen, loved, or accepted. The sisters offered them not only physical shelter, but also spiritual healing, human connection, and a chance to rediscover their worth.

Thus, the essential mission of the Sisters of the Good Shepherd is to go to the margins where others may not go and to walk with those who are wounded, forgotten, or judged, helping them to reclaim their dignity, to believe in love again, and to find reconciliation with themselves, with others, and with God. This remains our call today, in every culture and context where we serve.

How does that translate into what the congregation does today?

In Kenya, Uganda, and DRC, and in many other parts of the world, our mission as Sisters of the Good Shepherd remains centered on reconciliation—reconciling the human person with themselves, with God, and with the world around them. This holistic vision of healing and restoration shapes all our ministries and is expressed through six principal areas of action.

First and foremost, our primary focus is on women and the girl child, especially those living in extreme vulnerability. We walk alongside women in prostitution those in situations of deep pain and desperation—offering them dignity, support, and a path to healing. A critical part of our mission also involves combating human trafficking, a tragic reality for countless girls and young women who are lured or forced to move across borders in search of survival. For us, restoring their freedom, identity, and hope is foundational.

We are also committed to ecological justice, recognizing that environmental degradation and climate change deeply affect the poor and vulnerable. If the environment is destroyed, the wellbeing of communities is equally at risk. Our mission includes efforts to care for creation, to advocate for policies that protect the planet, and to participate in local actions that promote ecological restoration.

Women’s empowerment is another cornerstone of our work. We strive to support women not only spiritually and emotionally but also economically and socially, helping them to become self-reliant and agents of transformation in their families and communities.

We also engage with the complex issue of migration, which, while closely linked to human trafficking, presents unique challenges. Many people are forced to migrate due to conflict, poverty, or climate-related disasters. We accompany them on their journeys, offering protection, advocacy, and opportunities for integration and healing.

These six focus areas reflect the heart of our mission as Good Shepherd Sisters around the world. While we may have schools, hospitals, or other formal institutions in some places, our primary orientation is not toward institutional expansion, but toward reaching people on the margins and helping them to rise to regain their dignity, rebuild their lives, and contribute meaningfully to their communities. Where necessary, institutions may grow out of that commitment. But at our core, we are driven by the Gospel imperative to be with those who are excluded and to walk with them toward a more just and compassionate world.

That is the essence of my current ministry as Director of Mission Development for the East and Central Africa Province. In this role, I help coordinate and grow programs that reflect this mission, responding to real needs and building capacity for long-term transformation.

After you decided to join the congregation, in Meru, what were the next steps?
I joined the congregation in Meru in October 2000. I was nearly 23 years old and had just completed my secondary education. The initial step was to enter the formation program, which typically takes about four years. In my case, it extended to about five years because I was part of an international formation group that included candidates from Kenya and two from South Sudan.

We began with the candidacy program, which lasted about a year. This was a foundational period—a basic introduction to the life and mission of the congregation. It helped us understand the core values, spirituality, and the social teachings of the Church. Our formation was both spiritual and theoretical, with sessions led by the sisters themselves, as well as lay mission partners who collaborated with the congregation.

During this time, we also participated in inter-congregational courses, where we met candidates from other congregations and shared in broader formation experiences. The first two years were thus focused on personal grounding and orientation into religious life.

After the candidacy and pre-novitiate, we entered the novitiate—a canonical phase that lasts two years. This is a deeply reflective and immersive period, where we live in the novitiate house and focus entirely on understanding the congregation's charism, spirituality, and mission in a more profound and structured way.

In the second year of novitiate, we were sent out for a six-month mission experience, designed to help us integrate what we had learned in theory during the first year. This phase is about applying formation to real-life ministry. While I remained in the same novitiate community, my role shifted from theoretical learning to active mission work.

Our mission focused on women and children. We had a sponsorship program that supported girls, and we conducted home visits four days a week to understand their realities more intimately. In addition, we worked with organized women's groups, engaging in activities like table banking—a simple, community-based savings and credit system that empowers women economically. These visits and engagements helped us connect with the community, understand social dynamics, and live out the mission in practical and compassionate ways.

Where were you?

I was in Kambakia (Novitiate Community), with our ministry located in Meru Town, about 50 kilometers from my home. This was a different community—more central, on the outskirts of town. During the novitiate period, we were not allowed to go home unless it was due to a very serious issue, as the focus was entirely on our formation.

That six-month experience concluded with my first profession of vows. Afterward, I was sent to a new community in Embu, where I served as the coordinator of a home for unwed mothers, known as Annunciation Home. At the time, such homes were common, but more recently, government policy has begun to phase them out in an effort to restructure the broader social support systems - through alternative care reform policy Act of 2022.

 
I worked there for about a year, supporting young girls—most of whom were in crisis, often pregnant and either still in school or recently dropped out. Many of them had been involved in abusive relationships or rejected by their families due to the shame associated with their pregnancies. These girls often ended up on the streets, eventually referred to our home through the Church or the government welfare system.

Our role was to accompany them through this difficult journey—helping them access medical care, receive counseling, and prepare for childbirth. After delivery, we worked to reintegrate them into their communities, helping some return to school and supporting others to start small businesses so they could provide for themselves and their babies. I also conducted community visits to better understand the local context and the social dynamics affecting these women. This gave me invaluable exposure.

Serving these young mothers taught me much. I had the opportunity to interact with community members, many of whom donated food and clothes, or volunteered to give talks. Some men especialy from the small Christian community came forward to encourage others to become more supportive of young women in distress. It was a powerful experience in community collaboration and compassion.

After this, I was sent for a missionary experience in India, where I stayed for a year. I was based in Mysore, in the southern state of Karnataka, at the Dhyanavana Institute of Spirituality, run by the Carmelite Fathers (OCD). This period was part of our temporary profession formation, focused on deepening our understanding of the congregation’s spirituality and our call to serve the Church and God.

We lived at the institute during the week, attending courses in areas such as Christology, Mariology, scripture, and Christian living among others. The approach was less theoretical and more about integrating spirituality into everyday life. On weekends, we stayed with our sisters in one of the congregation’s well-established Indian communities, engaging in understanding local mission work. This time was immensely enriching, allowing me to both deepen my spiritual grounding and experience a new culture. It helped me grow in faith and clarity, and reinforced that without a solid spiritual foundation, it would be difficult to truly serve others and live fully religious life.

Around April 2009, I returned to Kenya and, in 2010, I was appointed to the Euphrasia Women Center in Nairobi. The center was established to serve women and girls from Mukuru slums, a large informal settlement in South B, Nairobi County. It functioned both as a crisis intervention center and a technical school, with programs in garment making, cookery, computer skills, and hairdressing.

After a year, I was appointed as the project coordinator, and served in that capacity for six years, until 2015. The mission focused especially on teenage girls, many of whom could not afford to complete their education. We supported them with subsidised fee and helped them acquire vocational skills, while also offering psychosocial support to survivors of gender-based violence. We worked closely with volunteers and partners who helped run the programs as mission partners.

One case that left a deep mark on me involved a young girl from Northern Uganda, who came to Nairobi seeking work. She was only about 14 or 15 years old and ended up living on the streets. Eventually, she sought refuge in a Catholic parish, which referred her to our center. Initially, she found peace with us, free from the abuse she had previously endured. After counseling, she opened up and we enrolled her in secondary school. Sadly, she developed serious mental health issues and couldn't settle. I accompanied her, alongside our social workers, to five different hospitals. Eventually, she was referred for psycho-spiritual counseling. After a priest agreed to guide her through that process, it became clear she needed to return to her home country.

We worked through her embassy, and when everything was ready, I personally accompanied her back. It was one of the most difficult yet spiritually powerful moments of my ministry. When we arrived, a priest led prayers over her, and something shifted, she seemed delivered from her pain. We left her there, healed and with our blessing. Though we never heard from her again, I trust she found peace.

You've dealt with so many people one on one. Do you try to follow up with individuals later on?

Sometimes we do, but not always. Some of our programs have structured follow-ups for six months to a year, to help individuals stabilize after leaving. Others, like educational sponsorships, have alumni associations that offer ongoing support. Occasionally, former beneficiaries visit us and share how their lives have evolved.

So, back to my journey: after leaving Euphrasia Women Center, I continued serving in a similar ministry until 2014, when I was transferred to another community. It was again a technical school, which eventually closed, leading me to yet another project. I served there for three years, while also pursuing my university studies during that time.

What were you studying?

I began my studies in Social Work and Social Development for one year, and then transitioned into Leadership and Management for my Bachelor's degree. I studied part-time so I could continue my ministry work. Upon completing my BA, I immediately enrolled in a Master’s program, also part-time which I completed in 2018.

Following that, I worked for a year with the Association of Sisterhoods of Kenya (ASEC) as an administrative assistant. Later, I served in another home in a dual role as a social worker and administrative assistant.

In 2020, COVID-19 struck, and by 2021, I was appointed to establish the Mission Development Office serving Kenya, Uganda, and the DRC. This office mirrors the International Good Shepherd Foundation in Rome, which facilitates our global mission. At the province or unit level, our office is structured similarly to support local missions. We collaborate closely with the office in Rome while working on the ground in the three countries.

Starting the Mission Development Office from scratch was both exciting and daunting—I was its first coordinator, and the role was completely new. I had to figure out the scope, identify priorities, and determine how best to meet the needs of our missions. My academic background helped me assess, conceptualize, and reevaluate the emerging challenges. I decided to begin with a basic needs assessment across our 13 programs, 11 in Kenya, one in Uganda, and one in Kolwezi, DRC (a mining area where we work to rescue children from the mines and support vulnerable women).

In Kenya, our programs span eight counties. We have three communities in Meru—significant because Meru is part of our foundation story in Kenya—and one community each in Embu, Kitui, Mombasa, Machakos, and Kitale. In Meru, the focus is on women and children, particularly those from extremely vulnerable backgrounds. Many of the children are orphaned or at high risk of abuse. Most join our center after completing Class Eight, although this structure is evolving with changes in Kenya’s education system.

The Kenyan government is now promoting a "Changing the Way We Care" policy that aims to transition children out of institutional homes and back into family or community-based care. We’re collaborating with the Ministry of Social Services and local governments to facilitate this shift, ensuring children are reintegrated into families and communities.

DRC is so different from Kenya: The language, the problems, everything.

It is very, very different. The language is French, of course. While we are there, we use French. And yes, the culture is also completely different, though of course they are also African. And the challenges for the women and children are not so different. When we arrive, we make an intentional effort to learn their culture, understand their way of life, and immerse ourselves in it. That’s how we are able to serve meaningfully. For instance, in the communities we engage with, artisanal mining is the primary source of livelihood. Through our work, we came to see the heavy reliance on artisanal mining and began exploring alternatives that could offer more sustainable and dignified livelihoods.

Since our mission was established there in 2012, the Sisters began supporting women to transition away from artisanal mining. The question was: If they left the mines, what could they do instead? In response, we helped introduce a new culture of savings and micro-financing. Women began organizing themselves into groups and associations for alternative livelihoods . Through this model, they’ve been able to grow together and support each other in building alternative means of income.

In Uganda, our ministry is based in Mulago, right in the capital city. Our house is located near Mulago National Hospital. We serve the surrounding communities, especially the slum areas of Katanga, which are densely populated with low-income families. And who do we find in such places? Mostly women and children, vulnerable people from different parts of the country, often living in very poor conditions.

During the rainy season, life in these areas becomes almost unbearable. Yet our Sisters are present and active in the heart of this suffering. We work with children by enrolling them in sponsorship programs, with support from Rich in Mery volunteers and other kind donors. The project has also benefited from the Raskob Foundation, which has supported our work with women through self-help groups upskilling their small-scale business. These women are given seed capital that circulates within the groups as a revolving fund.

Thanks to a Canadian volunteer organization, many children are now able to go to school. Over the years, several other small but generous organizations including the Spiritan Fathers (Holy Ghost Fathers) and others have come alongside us to support the work.

This has been my journey and commitment until now. I’ve worked to strengthen our programs and resolve emerging challenges. I made it a priority to visit all our communities and all the Sisters, to better understand their needs and realities.
Through this assessment, I saw that we needed more than just activities, we needed structure. We needed clear policies and strategic plans to guide our mission and ensure sustainability. We also needed additional staff. So, we began by hiring two key team members: a Programs Assistant and a Monitoring and Evaluation officer.

Setting up the physical office took time. In fact, the first year was largely dedicated to laying this foundation—recruiting, conducting visits, and building a competent team to support the growing work.

Do you have good and less good experiences with the local governments?

Our experiences with local governments have varied depending on the context and location. However, in nearly all our programs especially in Kenya, collaboration with government authorities is not just helpful; it is essential. We cannot achieve much without their involvement.

For example, in our education programs, we must work closely with the Ministry of Education to ensure that we are aligned with national policies and standards. In healthcare, where we operate a dispensary in another community, we collaborate with the Ministry of Health. This ensures that we meet all regulatory requirements and that the community benefits from government support, such as the supply of essential medicines.

Overall, my experience has been positive. We’ve made it a point to establish and nurture good working relationships with government bodies, recognizing that strong partnerships are key to the success and sustainability of our work. Even when it’s not easy, we understand the importance of finding ways to engage constructively with government stakeholders. Their support is crucial—not only for setting up our ministries but also for keeping them operational and aligned with broader policy frameworks.

Your description of the impact of government policy changes is very interesting. For example, the policy is to move children out of homes and into the community. Do you have a voice in those decisions?

Yes, we do have a voice in these decisions, to some extent, especially because the process has been interactive and participatory. In Kenya, we engage through various forums as Good Shepherd Sisters to ensure that our work aligns with national policy while also advocating for the needs of the children we serve.
For example, in Embu, we care for teenage girls in crisis, many of them young mothers. In Meru and Mombasa, we partner with the Catholic Dioceses of Kitui and Mombasa to manage similar homes. In total, we operate four shelters, but we do not work in isolation. Each of these homes has a sister serving as a program coordinator, and one of their key responsibilities is to maintain strong coordination with government initiatives and policies.

Ultimately, it is the leaders of CCIs (Charitable Children’s Institutions) who are tasked with implementing these government policies. Because we operate multiple shelters, we strive to ensure our presence and voice are part of policy discussions. Being at the table is not just important—it is necessary for us to influence the direction of child welfare reforms in ways that are grounded in the lived realities of the children and communities we serve.

Does the government provide funding?

No, the support does not come from the government. It originates primarily from our congregation and local initiatives. However, two of the homes, those in Kitui and Mombasa are owned by the dioceses. Even in those cases, we are still responsible for supplementing the support needed to sustain the work. This often involves seeking additional funding through grant applications to partner organizations.

For instance, we recently secured a grant from the Hilton Fund for Sisters to support the home in Mombasa, which is run by our sisters. The grant application process was facilitated through our Mission Development Office, which plays a vital role in mobilizing resources for our ministries

How does the effort to deinstitutionalize care affect you?

I believe that the movement to reform the care system shifting from institutional homes to family- or community-based care—is, at its core, a good and necessary step. Children deserve to grow up in environments where they feel a true sense of belonging, a place they can genuinely call home.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, I had the opportunity to serve in a home that was not run by our congregation, but by an independent caregiver. Some of the children there had been institutionalized for over 18 years. I vividly remember one encounter with a young girl who looked at me, gently held my hand, and said, "My mother would be like this," referring to the color of my skin. It was a deeply moving moment, both heartbreaking and revealing. Her words exposed a profound longing: "I wish I knew my parents and could have grown up with them." I did my best to comfort her and offer hope, but her story reflects the silent yearning of many children in institutional care.

Sadly, the situations that lead children to these homes are often tragic. In the home where I worked, especially during the height of COVID-19, some children had been completely abandoned—cast out of their homes and left to survive on their own. They would arrive as young as one year old or less even one day old, stay for several years, and eventually be transferred to other institutions. While these homes provide critical services such as education and pathways to adoption, foster care, or guardianship, the journey is rarely easy or straightforward.

In truth, nothing compares to the nurturing environment of a family. But in the context of Kenya’s current socio-economic realities, I find myself asking: How can the government and its partners ensure that the transition to family-based care is both smooth and sustainable? We must avoid situations where children or youth are reintegrated into family settings, only to end up back on the streets a few years later. That, to me, is a major concern.

Having served in both shelters and residential homes, I recognize the invaluable role these institutions have played, even as we work toward better alternatives. The transition must be handled with great care, planning, and support to truly serve the best interests of the children.

It's complicated, with many “buts” …

I completely agree, it is complicated, and there are indeed many “buts.” Still, my hope and prayer are that, as partner organizations, as faith-based institutions, and as stable social structures, we can come together, with the government and other stakeholders—to develop truly sustainable solutions.
Solutions that allow every child to grow up within a family, in a loving and nurturing environment—a place they can genuinely call home. A place where they not only belong, but also find peace, security, and a real sense of identity.

A last complicated question. What are your reflections on who people trust? And what are the problems?

Trust is a value and a virtue. It's not something that can come from outside. It comes from within people and from their relationships. And it has to be built over time. From my experience of working with the communities, families, and institutions, I find that many people trust religious sisters. And why? It is because they believe that what religious sisters are doing in the communities and doing to the families is something that they have given themself fully to do, and they give their very best.

 
Religious sisters immerse themselves in the lives of the communities. They understand their struggles, their needs, and also their joys. They walk alongside them, without judgment, without bias—and in doing so, help to address problems and, where possible, build sustainable solutions. Even when sustainability isn’t guaranteed, the sisters remain present. That enduring companionship builds trust over time.

In our ministries, we also work in collaboration with the government. There are instances when we refer people to social services, saying: “This is an issue for the government; why not approach the relevant office for support?” Yet, we know that navigating government systems can be difficult—lengthy procedures and bureaucratic inefficiencies often discourage people. This reality erodes trust in public services, and when trust is lacking, the impact of those services is greatly diminished.

Still, I believe that trust especially among partners must be continuously nurtured. It requires transparency, accountability, and above all, integrity. When we steward our resources well and stay committed to our mission, we serve not only effectively but in a way that inspires continued trust and empowers the communities we accompany.

How did you come to your capstone project? [part of the Fellowship] How is it going?

My capstone project is titled "Innovating for Impact: A Holistic Strategy for Resource Mobilization, Capacity Building, and Women's Empowerment to Drive Community Transformation." At its core, this project is about equipping people, particularly our sisters and staff—with sustainable skills and creating a resource mobilization strategy that supports lasting change.

I’ve come to this focus through experience. Serving in programs across three countries and spending the year in different communities, I’ve observed a consistent and troubling pattern: around 90% of our programs depend heavily on external donor funding. This over-reliance affects the quality and consistency of services we offer. More and more, we are seeing donor support decrease—both internationally and locally. It often leaves us uncertain, asking ourselves if the work we’re doing today can continue tomorrow.

That realization became my inspiration. I believe that when we build the capacity of our sisters and staff, they gain the confidence and competence to innovate, to think beyond conventional donor support and explore sustainable, locally driven solutions. If even just 20 sisters and staff are trained in alternative fundraising and resource mobilization strategies, some will begin to see new possibilities: leveraging local resources, tapping into community-based assets, and using what we already have to sustain our work.

Some of our programs are already aligned with this thinking. We have small social enterprises in garment making, dispensaries, and even daycares that may evolving into schools. The key question is: how do we grow these initiatives into fully functioning social enterprises—ones that don’t pursue profit, but generate enough surplus to reinvest in other community projects?

Through this capstone project, we aim to do just that. By its conclusion, we will have trained and empowered a core group of sisters. We will also have developed a strategic document, a practical roadmap toward sustainability. My hope is that these empowered sisters will become agents of transformation in their communities, helping reduce our dependency on uncertain external funding and building more resilient, self-sustaining programs.

I’ve seen firsthand how painful it is to close a project simply because donor funding ended. These initiatives weren’t started because money was available, they were born from real needs within the communities. And often, those needs are far from resolved when the funding stops. It is disheartening to close a project when the mission remains unfinished.

That is why this capstone matters so deeply to me. It is more than an professional exercise. It is a pathway to practical change. It will help us reimagine how we sustain our work, renew our commitment to long-term impact, and build the confidence that we can do it, and do it better—for the women, children, and communities we are called to serve.