A tribute to the women whose strength shaped generations
I’m writing about the Ekoe people of western Kenya — a close-knit community of migrants originally from Narok County, who eventually settled in parts of Kitale, Eldoret, and Butere. These are my ancestors: blood Maasai, later assimilated into the Marama community.
A fascinating detail about Ekoe men? They don’t typically pursue skinny women. When I first learned this, I tried to argue that it sounded a little like modern-day body shaming. But an elderly man gently stopped me:
“Listen, every man has his preference, this is ours. We love our women fleshy. We discourage marrying skinny girls. Besides, our girls are not skinny.”
It’s not just a preference, it’s a deeply rooted practice. From as early as infancy, girls are nurtured to grow plump and healthy. I know this firsthand, I’m one of them. I’ve watched my grandmother prepare special porridge for a baby just six weeks old.
Growing up, body size was never just about beauty , it was seen as a reflection of wellbeing. If I lost even a little weight, it never went unnoticed:
“Is life tough?”
“Are you unwell?”
“Did you eat?”
“Why are you lighter?”
“Do you need help?”
To them, a girl intentionally wanting to be small felt confusing, even troubling. And honestly, the odds aren’t in our favor if petite is the goal. Unless one undergoes something like a gastric bypass, staying small is nearly impossible — and such procedures are quietly frowned upon.
In our tradition, women are encouraged to “open” a baby’s stomach as early as six weeks. It’s common to see a mother already doing manual work while her child is fed thick uji: porridge rich with ground sardines, groundnuts, and protein-heavy grains. By the time that child turns one, food is no struggle. Their stomachs are ready. Their appetite, already nurtured.
That doesn’t mean the celebration of bigger bodies goes unchallenged, especially in today’s world, where global beauty standards are shifting. While a fuller figure is traditionally praised, modern influences sometimes cast a shadow. Outsiders — or those influenced by other ideals may view size differently. So, the same body once admired can suddenly come under scrutiny:
“Can’t you watch what you eat?”
“Shouldn’t you hit the gym?”
“Are you okay?”
Still, I sat with an Ekoe elder recently, and he reminded me of something powerful. While I’ve never personally heard of an Ekoe woman dying from lifestyle diseases like diabetes or hypertension, I now understand something deeper:
Women like me aren’t just wanted — we’re made.
Made with intention. Raised in strength. Grounded in tradition. Desired by men who know what it takes to sustain our rhythm of life.
Now, now — isn’t this some fascinating history?