The first rays of sunlight streamed through the thin gaps in the wooden walls of their small hut, bathing the single room in a soft golden hue. Eunice sat cross-legged on the cold, uneven floor, packing her few belongings into a faded, second-hand suitcase. Outside, the sound of chirping birds mingled with the occasional mooing of cows as the village began to stir to life.
Her mother, Mama Naomi, lay on the small bed by the corner, propped up against a pillow that had long lost its fluff. A persistent cough rattled her frail body, but her eyes held a spark of determination as she watched her daughter prepare to leave.
"Eunice," Mama Naomi's voice was weak but steady, "are you sure about this?"
Eunice stopped folding a faded yellow dress and looked at her mother, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Mama, we've talked about this. I need to go to Eldoret. There's nothing left for us here. What can I do, sit and watch you get sicker while I hope for a miracle? I have to try."
Her mother sighed, her thin shoulders sagging. "I know, my child. I know. It's just… this place is all we have known. And the city… the city can be cruel."
Eunice crossed the small room and knelt by her mother's bedside. She took her mother's hand, the skin rough from years of labor. "Mama, life here has already been cruel. Uncle took everything. Baba's land, his cows, even the bicycle he used to ride to the market. What did he leave us with? Nothing. I can't let you keep suffering because of his greed."
A tear slipped down Mama Naomi's cheek. She wiped it quickly, not wanting to burden her daughter further. "You're so much like your father. He was brave, determined, always wanting better for his family." She coughed again, this time more violently, and Eunice grabbed a small metal cup of water from the bedside table, helping her take a sip.
"Don't worry, Mama. I'll send money as soon as I can. I'll find a job, even if it means cleaning floors. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you're comfortable," Eunice assured her.
Mama Naomi nodded slowly, her lips quivering. "Promise me one thing, Eunice. Promise me you'll stay true to yourself. Don't let the city change you. And pray. Always pray."
"I promise," Eunice whispered, though her heart was heavy.
The village path was dusty and uneven, lined with acacia trees that swayed gently in the morning breeze. Eunice carried her suitcase in one hand, a small bag of food in the other, and a heart full of both hope and fear. A small group of neighbors had gathered near the bus stop to bid her farewell.
"Eunice, go and make us proud!" shouted Mama Wanjiku, the elderly woman who lived next door.
"And don't forget to come back with a good man," added a younger woman, drawing laughter from the group.
Eunice managed a polite smile, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She wasn't thinking about love or marriage. Her sole focus was on making enough money to get her mother proper medical care and to one day reclaim the dignity her family had lost.
As the bus rumbled into view, Eunice felt her stomach churn. This was it. Her mother, leaning heavily on a walking stick, had insisted on accompanying her to the bus stop despite her frail condition. Eunice turned to her one last time, her voice trembling.
"Mama, take care of yourself. And don't forget to take your medicine."
Mama Naomi's voice was barely above a whisper. "Go, my child. God will be with you. Always."
The bus door creaked open, and Eunice climbed aboard, her suitcase thumping against the steps. She found a seat by the window, pressing her face against the glass. As the bus began to move, she watched her mother grow smaller and smaller until she was just a figure in the distance, standing alone by the dusty road.
Eunice wiped a tear from her cheek and took a deep breath. This wasn't goodbye. It was the beginning of something new.