Rona Foundation Blogs

I have walked the dusty paths of Siaya and the villages around Lake Victoria for years, listening to the whispered stories of widows—women who grieve silently while carrying battles invisible to most. I remember Esther, 28, from Ugenya, whose late husband’s family took everything after subjecting her to a traumatic “forced cleansing” ritual, a violation that culture refuses to recognize as rape. Left with three children, no land to farm, and deep emotional scars, she embodies the quiet resilience of widows whose suffering has long been ignored.In Bondo, 32-year-old Mary was chased from her home because tradition dictated she “must suffer.” Across Siaya and Lake Region counties, surveys show that over 60% of widows endure demeaning traditional practices, economic exclusion, or social isolation.
These stories are not folktales—their suffering is real, and the tears they have shed have now found meaning through the Siaya Widows Protection Act 2025.For generations, the language around widowhood—the way we talk about widows—has normalized their suffering. It has been shaped by patriarchy and a misguided empathy that stops at sympathy, rarely moving to action. Families, communities, even local leaders, have
expected widows to bear injustice as if it were natural, inevitable, or deserved.

The Siaya Widows Protection Act 2025 interrupts the painful realities Esther, Mary, and countless others have endured. While it does not address succession—inheritance laws already exist—it is revolutionary in what it does. The law outlaws long-standing harmful traditional widowhood practices, establishes social support through County and Widow Ward Committees,and sets up institutional structures such as the Department of Widow Affairs and the Widows Welfare Fund.For widows like Esther and Mary, these measures turn tears and suffering into recognition,protection, and hope—signaling that their lives and voices finally matter.
The law confronts systemic neglect, entrenched power imbalances, and social marginalization,elevating widows’ protection and wellbeing to both an ethical and legal priority. It challenges communities to recognize that the suffering they once treated as inevitable is neither natural nor acceptable.
Walking through Siaya villages last month, I met dozens of widows who shared stories of renewed hope. They spoke of relief and validation, knowing that the injustices they endured for generations would no longer be ignored. This law is more than a shield—it is a signal that widows’ voices matter, their rights are respected, and their lives are valued.The passage of this law in the County Assembly was historic. Speaker Okode, addressing the Assembly as the law passed, said: “Today, Siaya sets an example for the nation. We honor the resilience of our widows, and we commit to protecting their dignity and rights. This Assembly goes into history, witnessed by thousands who have waited too long for justice.”Of note, the 3rd County Assembly of Siaya will be remembered as the Assembly that made widows’ voices count, inviting them into the Speaker’s gallery to witness history firsthand—affirming that widow stories are not folktales, their suffering is real, and the tears they have shed have found meaning through this law.

Now, the real work begins. Implementation will be crucial. And Siaya has an opportunity to become a best-practice county in advancing widow rights, showing Kenya and East Africa how legal frameworks, community support structures, and institutional commitment can work together.The successful rollout of County and Widow Ward Committees, oversight by the Department of Widow Affairs, and proper funding through the Widows Welfare Fund will transform legislation from words on paper to meaningful change in widows’ daily lives.

To critics who question the law, I say: visit these communities. See the struggles of widows in Alego, Bondo, Rarieda, or Ugenya. Listen to their stories, witness their resilience, and recognize that justice delayed is injustice continued.This law is not an abstract policy—it is a shield, a statement, and a promise to thousands of women who have been silenced for too long.This is more than legislation—it is a movement of widows saying, “Enough.” These women are our mothers, sisters, and close family members—women in our families, women we know. Protecting them should never be seen as a challenge to any social group; it is ​_a responsibility we all share. Now that you have the law, be its champion—in your village, family, and homestead. It starts with you.

We must come together to ensure the law is implemented in its entirety.To the collective voice of thousands of Siaya widows—kudos and heartfelt thanks for demanding dignity, protection, and equality, with a resonance that echoes across Kenya. To our Members of the County Assembly in Siaya, your oversight role has just begun. Ensure that no widow’s life is treated as a footnote, and be champions to guarantee that the executive fully implements this law.Because when a widow’s voice becomes law, we all rise. And every life is honored, every story heard, every tear transformed into hope—this is the future we must build together.

Roseline Orwa, a widow champion, and the Founder and Executive Director of the Rona Foundation, a Kenyan widow human rights organization. She tweets @roselineorwa