How Baringo grannies are reclaiming life, one kick at a time

A cloud of dust rises with every step, on a scorched community playground located by the roadside along the Emining- Eldama Ravine Road in Baringo County, 72-year-old Lena Keitany leans forward, swings her leg and connects cleanly with the ball. 

It rolls across the rough, dusty ground as she breaks into a steady, determined run, laughter erupts from a group of youth and some children cheering every tough and every pass at the edge of the field. Around her, fellow women old enough to be called great grandmothers dash across the field, calling for passes, chasing the ball with surprising agility. 

Just months ago, Lena could barely walk without a walking stick. 

“I used to depend on it everywhere, I had pressure, arthritis, my legs were swollen, I was always in pain I thought that was the end of me,” she said. 

Today, the grandmothers drawn from the various clubs within Mogotio Sub County have a club training session, one of the many that now bring together these aged mothers from across the sub county every week. 

But for these women, this field has become something far greater than a place to play. It has become medicine. 

The movement began quietly early last year when a handful of women formed what is now Darajee Super Grannies Club. The idea was simple: get moving, stay active, and fight the creeping weight of age and illness. 

“We started because many of our grannies were suffering; they were always going to hospital and even getting medicine was not easy but when they began coming to the field, their health started improving,” said Irene Terer, the Darajee Super grannies team manager. 

What began as a small initiative has since grown into a network of nine teams spread across the sub-county, drawing in dozens of women most over the age of 60. 

Every Friday, they gather together, not just to train, but to talk, to laugh, to share burdens and ideas and to remind each other that they are still capable. 

“We are no longer idle at home, we come here, we interact and the love between us has come back, “Irene added.

For many, the transformation feels almost miraculous, at 63 Lucy Chemjor remembers avoiding shoes with laces not out of preference but necessity. 

“I could not bend to tie them, even simple things were hard but now I can bend, I can run and I feel lighter,” she said. 

A few meters away, 75-year-old Rosaline Kimoi Ruto stands firm in defence during a drill, her eyes fixed on the ball. It is a role she now performs with confidence, something she once could not have imagined. 

“I was in and out of hospitals in Nakuru, Ravine, Mogotio. My legs were swollen, I could not even milk my cows, I had started to feel useless,” she recalls. 

Then one day she came to watch a group of other women who had embraced the game, she inquired about the next training session and made a decision to also try. 

“I told my son Cheruiyot to bring me here. I threw my walking stick under a tree and then joined it. Now I run, I play, I am strong again,” she says smiling. 

For Esther Toroitich, 65, the change has been profound. 

“I had serious leg problems; even sitting was difficult, but now I can move, I can run, this game has helped me,” she says. 

Stepping onto the field was not just a physical challenge for the grannies; it was a cultural one.

Convincing elderly women to play football and more so to wear sports kits was a battle in itself. 

“It was very difficult at the beginning, telling a grandmother aged 60 or 70 to wear shorts and walk around was not acceptable in our community,” Irene said. 

Many feared being judged.

“We were even afraid our children would see us, but now we do not care, we are used to it,” Esther says with a laugh. 

Cheruiyot admits that at first, the idea was difficult for many in the community.

“Initially, we were very shy, we come from a culture where we are taught to respect our mothers in a certain way, how they dress and carry themselves, seeing them in football kits, especially shorts, was not easy to accept,” said Cheruiyot.  

But over time, the attitude changed.

“With time, we accepted it, and now we see it as beautiful; it has helped break social barriers and changed the way we view our mothers,” he added. 

For some, the idea was met with resistance from their family members.

“At first, my children refused; they thought I would get injured but now they remind me about training and come to cheer me on,” said 70-year-old Salina Chepsergon.

Salinas’ situation echoes that of Lina, but for Lina, her husband Job Keitany, also in his mid 70s, has become one of her strongest supporters.

“Since she started playing, she is very active, she no longer gets sick like before, even we men should come together and do something like this,” said Keitany.  

For the younger generation watching from the sidelines, the transformation has been striking.

Amos Cheruiyot, popularly known as Amkich Karanja, a youth and a resident of Emining, says the impact of the initiative goes beyond the players themselves.

“As children of these women and others who are our grannies’ age we have seen the benefits of this game, it truly lives up to its message of kicking for health,” said Cheruiyot. 

He notes that many of the women had long struggled with health issues. 

As women move through drills, passing, jogging, laughing, the deeper impact of the game begins to reveal itself.   This is not just about fitness, it is about dignity, and it is about reclaiming space in a society where ageing often means retreat. 

The Mogotio Sub-County Grannies football coordinator, Joel Kipsang says the changes are visible beyond the field.

“This football has helped reduce stress and conflict in families. When they come here, they release everything and they go back home happy,” said Kipsang. 

He adds that the initiative has also had an unexpected social impact.

“Many women who used to engage in brewing illicit alcohol are now busy with football, it has changed behaviour in the community,” added Kipsang.

But even as their bodies grow stronger, the realities of rural life remain. Most of the players are small-scale farmers and hustlers with little disposable income, basic equipment is a constant struggle.

“We do not have proper football boots; we use rubber shoes sometimes, when you kick the ball, the shoes go with it,” said Lucy. 

Others play barefoot in the rough ground and risking injury.

“Recently we had a tournament in Ravine, the playground was slippery, the shoes are not good,” Esther adds. 

Transport to matches, especially outside the county, is another major hurdle to the grannies. 

“When we are invited to a tournament, many can’t go because they don’t have fare, some sell eggs or chicken just to travel,” said Irene. 

During the initial stage, when they were starting, they used improvised balls but with time some teams got some balls from well-wishers but now some have become damaged.

“We have made balls from polythene bags we just wanted something to play with,” she recalls. 

Still, their ambitions refuse to be limited by the circumstances. 

Since the movement began, granny football has grown beyond Emining with teams across Baringo and neighbouring counties joining the tournament. 

In Iten, Elgeiyo Marakwet County in August last year Darajee FC claimed second place at the launch of the grandmothers' league.

At the Kimani Kuria tournament in Molo, Nakuru County on December 12, last year Darajee beat Chergei 3-0, showcasing the rising level of the competition. 

In February this year, Ravine hosted a 20-team tournament won by the Marigat team with Darajee coming second, while in the Mogotio grannies’ tournament organised by Baringo County Sports Chief officer Denis Kimutai in March last month saw Kimose grannies crowned champions. 

Beyond the dusty pitches of Emining, the women dream of travelling, of seeing places they have only heard about.

“We want to go outside the county, even outside the country, Most of us have never even been to Nairobi. We want to board a plane one day,” said Rosaline.

It is a dream that feels distant and deeply personal. 

“We want to play and travel like our grandchildren do, we normally see them on television, we see our child from the neighbouring constituency (Ravine) he is called Aldrin Kibet playing in Europe, ours we just want to one day board a plane to play with those white grannies, that would make us very happy and even increase our years on earth,” Esther said. 

As the training session draws to a close, the women gather under an acacia tree at the edge of the field, their bodies tired but satisfied. Some stretch their legs, and others sit and talk, reluctant to leave. 

“I feel young, I feel like I have my life back,” says Lena.