If you look up the meaning of Miss Unconventional in the English dictionary, you will see Asunta Wagura's avatar.
And here’s why. When, in the stigma-ridden 90s, it was unconventional and unheard of to share one's HIV status publicly, Asunta boldly wore the t-shirt with a red-lettered inscription: HIV-POSITIVE.
When doctors gave her six months to live, she put the doggone Grim Reaper on time out and also forced them to repeat math classes. When anticipating her death, they bought her burial dress - years later – she replaced it with a resplendent university graduation gown.
And when she was told that, because of her HIV-positive status, she could not have biological children, she bore Peter Kanyi. Peter is now a 34-year-old man who has flown out of the nest. End of story, right? Wrong. Dead wrong.
To the surprise of many, Asunta bore Joshua, 17. Chapter closed, right? Nope. In 2010, she gave birth to Israel, 14. Then several years later she, supposedly, closed that chapter with twin boys; Baraka and Gabriel, 11.
In life, most chapters are closed when one breathes their last. But, as long as one has a pulse, the possibilities are wide open. And Asunta proved that when, three months ago, she gave birth to twin girls.
Why, Asunta? I shoot with both smoking barrels out of my hips. Some people may wonder, why more babies?
"Ah, the age-old question that echoes through the living rooms of every family gathering, as if my uterus were up for a public referendum. Well, I'll tell you why — because my retirement plan isn't going to fund itself!,” the mother of seven tells Nation Lifestyle.
I am taken aback. Asunta notices, but decides to keep pulling my leg.
“Think about it: some people invest in eighth-acre plots, or quail eggs, or other get-rich-quick schemes. But me? I invest in children. It's the perfect plan! Each child is like a little NSSF [National Social Security Fund] cheque that walks, talks, and eventually, fingers crossed starts making enough money to keep me in the lifestyle I aspire to in my golden years,” she says.
“You're joking, right?” I blurt.
“Wasoh, pick that jaw on the floor and let's be real!” Asunta laughs. [I'm Wasonga and she calls me Wasoh] “The other reason is simply, why not? I pray to a non-conventional God; a God who has the entire cosmos in His hands. My God doesn't conform to human standards. So why wouldn't I tap into that divine abundance? Initially, my blueprint for life included having up to 10 children. Yeah, I was aiming for my little football team. Which means that, technically, I'm still three short; but hey, this squad I've got now? I can work with this.”
“Seriously, though, each child is a new adventure, a fresh soul to mould in the hope that I'll leave the world a little better than I found it. Children forget their parents when they leave the nest and start their own lives. Each child is another shot at getting at least one child who doesn't forget Mother's Day or mama’s birthday or …,” she says.
“Yeah, those too!,” Asunta says.
Conceiving and carrying a baby to term is not always a straight line. To some people, it is full of sad twists and turns. It is full of anxious moments of waiting and hoping, praying, and overcoming marital and spiritual trials. Because, to many people, a baby is the jewel that crowns life and nuptials.
“Did I try to conceive before these twin girls?” Asunta repeats my question. “You bet! It wasn’t exactly a ‘walk in, walk out’ kind of deal. More like a ‘walk in, trip, and fall flat on my face’ sort of situation!
“Ask that doctor whose practice is located along Nairobi's Ngong’ Road; I'm pretty sure my failed IVF attempts have him cruising around in a Range Rover by now. Who knew fertility treatments could double as a luxury car funding plan? But let me tell you, after numerous tries …” [In vitro fertilisation or IVF is where an egg is removed from the woman's ovaries and fertilised with sperm in a laboratory, then the embryo is returned to the woman's womb to grow].
“Enough to consider buying stock in pregnancy tests! After many failed IVF tries, we finally struck gold. It worked, leaving my bank account a bit dented. But all the money in the world can't beat the joy a new baby brings. Despite my savings being almost irreparably dented, I consider myself the richest woman. Not in cash, maybe, but definitely in cuddles, baby giggles and the occasional baptism by baby vomit,” she says.
In Kenya, IVF ranges from Sh370,000 to Sh700,000 depending on the hospital; or if a couple is using a donor egg or donor sperm; or if they are paying for additional costs such as testing if the embryo has inherited diseases or for chromosome analysis.
I play the devil's advocate. I asked Asunta what she would say to people who say that, instead of putting herself through hell, she could have adopted children.
“Well, I like to think of my approach to family building as the buffet line at brunch; why choose one dish when you can sample a bit of everything? I've got a heart big enough for adoption and biological children alike,” she says.
As the executive director of the Kenya Network of Women with AIDS (KENWA), Asunta adopted children infected and affected with HIV. Her adoption modus operandi depended on different situations. For instance, for some children who were ailing from HIV-related complications, Asunta took the approach of round-the-clock primary caregiving. She lived with them children – most of whom were on the verge of death - and nursed them back to life.
Realising that the need was overwhelming and her roof would not be able to handle the need on the ground, Asunta started a children's home. Deep down in her heart, she has been – not just a mother to children – but a mother to folks who have been orphaned and ostracised from society via HIV.
Asunta has always wanted girls. Biological baby girls, to be precise. She has made this fact crystal clear on numerous occasions in the past. How does it feel to finally have biological baby girls?
“I’m not saying I feel like Superman, but I’ve been spotted trying to see if I could leap buildings in a single bound... though it’s more like over piles of laundry and toys these days. In some ways, I feel super powerful. Only my superpower is surviving on three hours of sleep and magically detecting the difference between a hungry cry and a ‘just checking if you’ll come running’ cry.”
About the HIV status of her twin girls, Asunta says she will soon be sharing this, but, so far so good, although they are waiting to do another confirmatory test.
“Well, let’s just say I’ve become a master of multitasking; having these many children and just two hands forces any mother to be a multitasker,” Asunta laughs. “Goodness me, I wish I was an octopus! I would juggle all these responsibilities like a pro juggler on America’s Got Talent.”
She has mastered the art of hiding her previous pregnancies. Plus, though her life is an open book, she is not a fan of gender reveals. She is as old school as they come. She prefers to surprise folks – not with a baby bump – but with a baby.
However, this time around, her baby bump almost gave her away. She looked like she was carrying an entire football team. Thank God, they were just two perfectly timed human babies. But, knowing Asunta, she would not mind a football team … plus the subs.
Every mother needs a support system; whether they are a new mother who has never nursed a baby or they are giving birth for the nth time. Holistic support can go a long way in making the motherhood experience enjoyable and alleviating issues like postpartum depression.
So how did the 59-year-old mother of seven break the news that she was a new mother? Well, for Asunta, there is no shame in the game. She learnt to deal with shame, stigma and discrimination years ago. This means that this issue was water off a duck's back.
“It was a mixed bag; you don't expect to get 100 percent support,” she says. “Some swung into the supportive camp before I even hung up the phone. Others were scratching their heads, wondering what in the world just happened.”
“As for friends, they were all cheers and surprises. The extended family? Well, we might need to set aside a whole new day for that saga, as red Nyeri dust is still settling. I've been dodging questions like a pro, especially those that tread a bit too close to the twins’ privacy,” she says.
She says that, save for her five boys, there is no man in her life. She is too busy living to wait for life. Besides, she has had enough heartbreaks, and, to quote the lyrics from Nobody's Supposed to Be Here by Debora Cox: “I put my heart under lock-and-key; to take some time and take care of me,” she says.
It is a balancing game in Asunta’s home. It is about balancing responsibilities and love and ensuring nobody feels left out. And this calls for different skills. Unfortunately, such skills are not taught in school; one has to learn them on the job.
“My older twin boys have appointed themselves as professional babysitters. They've got the job down, except when Israel decides his brotherly support is best delivered in the form of serenades from a safe distance. And Joshua? Oh, he handles the babies as if they're made of fine china, always one wobble away from disaster,” she says.
Asunta says she is just here to enjoy the show. She has psyched herself up for the challenges, taking it one day at a time, refusing to let the postpartum fatigue steal the joy of these moments. She knows this [getting another baby] may never happen again, so she is soaking it all in and feeling ridiculously grateful that she somehow 'hacked' the fertility system.
If you are thinking about following a similar path—chasing down a dream of expanding your family or any dream—do your research thoroughly. Asunta spent countless hours investigating everything, from potential donors to healthcare options. It took the combined efforts of professionals both in Kenya and her country of residence to pull this off.
You cannot leave anything to chance. Not when it concerns a mother's and a child's life. Though Asunta is as healthy as can be, she still took a tonne of medications, needles and a whole lot of vitamins, minerals and tests for three to four years.
Asunta gave birth through Cesarean section or C-section. The twin girls were born full-term and, hopefully, they are avoiding any neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) drama.
“I am immensely grateful to God, the giver of life, and to all those who played a part in this journey—some of whom I’ve never even seen their faces,” Asunta says. “They’re all beautiful souls, and may they be blessed abundantly in their lives.”
“Carrying this pregnancy was like embarking on a top-secret mission where the ultimate goal was to surprise everyone with the news at just the right moment.”
“At the delightful approach of the big six-zero [60-year-old], most folks expect you to chat about grandkids or retirement plans; not that you're expanding your family … which, to some, is already done and dusted. There's this mentality out there that puts limits on what's supposedly appropriate for our age, but I say, 'Why not challenge the status quo?'
“If you’ve got a dream, whether it’s baby-related or not, pursue it! Just remember to arm yourself with knowledge, a good support network, and maybe a sense of humour. Trust me, you’re going to need a funny bone,” she says.
I asked Asunta the 90-year-old question: Has she finally closed the chapter? Or, like Sarah in the Bible, will she surprise us with baby news at 90 years old?
“For now, let’s just say I'm enjoying the current beautiful chaos,” Asunta says, with a mischievous smile. “After all, in Kikuyu, we say, ‘Mũtumia mutuīre’; a woman is strong … and I’m just living up to that!”
“Well, considering I’ve already thrown a surprise party with this pregnancy, who knows? I might still have a trick or two up my sleeve. Oops! Me and my big mouth.”
There has been talk in town that Asunta is not living with HIV and that she never birthed her children.
"From the time I outlived my set time for death, people have been saying many things. Any person living with HIV, such as the late Joe Muriuki, was accused of the same thing; that we were not HIV-positive, that we were doing it for the money. If people knew what my son, Peter, and I were put through—the stigma, discrimination, and anguish - if they would walk in our shoes, then, they would not spew such lies. But I'm used to it," she says.
"About my children, I'm not the type of person who shares her pregnancy journey. I prefer to keep such experiences private. I have had miscarriages. These, too, people never knew about. These are my children. They are the fruits of my womb," she tells Nation Lifestyle.
