The time spent in Likoni, Mombasa, last July was an experience my twenty-year-old daughter Lavinia—an Educational Sciences student—and I were fortunate enough to share: fifteen days of volunteering, but above all, an opportunity for connection, sharing, and personal growth.
For me, this journey represented the fulfillment of a wish I had cherished since childhood: to one day experience life at a mission in Africa. As it turned out, this dream came true many years later—now that I am a mother—and the most beautiful part was being able to share the experience with my daughter. A wish born so long ago thus became an experience that was deeply our own.
The opportunity arose thanks to Sister Stefania, who put us in touch with her missionary sisters in Kenya. We arrived in Likoni, where we spent fifteen days volunteering at the Stella Maris school.
We set off without fully knowing what to expect, yet open to stepping out of our comfort zones and eager to be of help. We returned with the realization that we had received far more than we ever thought we could give.
From the very first days, we encountered a school environment vastly different from our own. Classes are extremely large, teaching resources are scarce, and children begin their educational journey at a very early age—learning to write as early as three. Yet, what struck us most was not the hardships or the lack of resources, but the children’s serenity and happiness.
School plays a vital role in the lives of these families; they deeply believe in the value of education and make sacrifices—working together—to ensure their children can attend. For their part, the nuns strive every day to make the school not merely a place of learning, but a space where every child feels welcomed, supported, and loved.
Among the many experiences we shared, one stands out vividly in our memories: the field trip to Bora Bora, organized so the children could see the animals, followed by a stop at a water park on the way back.
It is difficult to describe the happiness we saw that day in their eyes and heard in their voices: the enthusiasm, the laughter, the amazement at every little thing. For us that moment took on an even more particular meaning. I am a primary school teacher and, over the years, I have met so many children; Lavinia, however, chose to dedicate her studies to the world of education. Yet we were both struck by such a spontaneous, simple and contagious joy.
That happiness inevitably led us to reflect. Those children manage to deeply rejoice in things that may seem small to us: a trip, a game, a day spent together. We, on the contrary, despite having a lot, too often live with the feeling that it is never enough. We continue to seek and desire something else, sometimes risking chasing nothingness, without recognizing the value of what we already possess.
Perhaps this is precisely one of the most important teachings we have received: rediscovering the value of gratitude.
It is a feeling that we encountered continuously during our stay: gratitude towards others, towards what we have, towards life and towards God.
A serenity that deeply fascinated us and which made us understand how much, from a reality so different from ours, we still have a lot to learn.
Another fundamental aspect of our experience was sharing our daily lives with the Consolata Missionary Sisters. They didn’t simply host us; they welcomed us like family. We shared their home, meals, prayers, conversations, laughter, and the small moments of everyday life. We never felt like just two volunteers from Italy, but rather part of their community. Living with them—and not just alongside them—gave our experience even deeper meaning.
We set out expecting a two-week volunteer stint. We returned with hearts full of faces, emotions, questions, and lessons that will stay with us.
We left Likoni with a sense of longing, but above all with one certainty: the desire to return. If the sisters are happy to welcome us back, we hope to find ourselves at Stella Maris again next July.
Because some places are visited and remembered. Others—through the people we meet—become a part of who we are.
For us, Likoni is one of those places.
Maria Cecilia Cardinale (Italy)
