How Margaretta wa Gacheru epitomised women lifting up women
Margaretta wa Gacheru at The Artcaffe Riverside in Nairobi.
What you need to know:
- In what I later came to learn was classic Margaretta fashion, she took it upon herself to mentor and guide me through the transition.
- She tapped into her network to find opportunities that suited me, which led to a job interview at Watatu Art Gallery.
I first met Margaretta wa Gacheru over a decade ago at an art exhibition at the GoDown Arts Centre; we were drawn together by our mutual love for the arts. At the time, I was restless in my role as a marketing research manager and longed to join the creative sector.
Our conversation deepened quickly when I shared my aspirations with her. In what I later came to learn was classic Margaretta fashion, she took it upon herself to mentor and guide me through the transition. She tapped into her network to find opportunities that suited me, which led to a job interview at Watatu Art Gallery. Margaretta escorted me to the interview.
Although I don’t recall the exact role—it was over a decade ago—there was a catch: I would have to work for free because the gallery was running on empty coffers. I turned down the opportunity to become a “starving artist,” but my friendship with Margaretta remained steadfast. She became my go-to companion for plays and art gallery visits.
Years later, our roles reversed when I joined Nation Media Group as an editor, where she had been a writer for many years. We vowed to make sure that we published art stories on the Nation online platform. Margaretta kept her word and was particularly keen on promoting female artists. Her mentorship never wavered, and she never missed a chance to tell me how proud she was of how far I’d come. “Look at you now; you’re my boss!” she’d tease.
Margaretta was there for almost every milestone in my life. When I was leaving my marriage, she was one of the first people I confided in, and she gave me sage advice: “The most important thing in your house is your daughter. Get her out before anything else.”
She was a devoted reader of my work, often sending me praise and constructive criticism. We shared feminist ideals, and when I wrote a response to Prof Henry Indagasi's article titled "No: Micere Mugo was not a deep thinker" in the Saturday Nation, she texted me: “I didn’t read his story. Can you pass me the link? I’d like to call him out and tear his bogus, misogynistic language to shreds.”
Margaretta also encouraged me to join the Rotary Club, frequently inviting me to meetings and activities of her home club, the Rotary Club of Nairobi. I’m a Rotarian today partly because of her persistence.
The only things we ever disagreed on were my eating habits—she’d often critique the amount of starch and protein I’d pile on my plate—and her love for boda boda rides. I’d complain they were unsafe, but she insisted they were the fastest way to get across Nairobi city. Our last conversation was at Braeburn Theatre, where we’d both come to watch a production by Sitawa Namwalie. Despite her illness, she was there with her oxygen tank, still supporting the arts. I’d asked her how long she’d need the tank, and she replied, “I don’t know, it depends on what the doctor says.”
“My house is now complete; you must visit me,” she added, but we ran out of time.
Margaretta is now resting with angels.
The writercomments on social and gender topics (@FaithOneya; [email protected]).
