Let it Be Wild: Stepping into the Unknown and Finding a Home

By Jenny Nuccio

Let it Be Wild is inspired by the roots of Imani Collective.

Born from a wild dream that founder Jenny Nuccio made into a reality, Imani Collective is a community of dreamers

• Language: English
• Publisher: Imani Collective
• Release date: May 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9798987792018

Book preview

What to Expect from

Let it Be Wild

I first put my pen to paper to write these stories to you over two years ago. As the book developed, so did I. As I changed, so did my heart in what I wanted to share to you.

So, in perfect Jenny style, I wrote a book and then rewrote it again because as you will find out throughout these pages, I live life wildly, going against the grain and always challenging the status quo.

I wanted this book to shine light on stories that have built me as a leader and social entrepreneur, and created the foundations of Imani Collective, a global social enterprise and a holistic women’s empowerment program based in Kenya. Imani is committed to breaking the generational cycle of poverty through job creation and trainings.

These stories are mine and the pages are filled with tenacity, resiliency, and zeal, but this book was also written for you. I offer them to remind you that you are not alone and you, too, have a legacy to be left.

My hope for this book is for you to realize that the world needs more of you. I hope you are encouraged, you are seen, and you push into more of who you are.

Faithfully,

Jenny Nuccio

Foreword

The giggles echoed around the blank walls of the tiny apartment as we huddled together in the living room that first afternoon. My mouth wouldn’t make the sounds that combine with the letter N in Kinyarwanda, and their tongues could not seem to connect to the right place to form the th sound. The gibberish spilling out all over the room was chaotic, maybe even a little frustrating and frankly, just hilarious. My daughter, anxious to use my phone and feel important, asked if she could take some videos and photos during the last part of class. She captured this moment – Zawadi and Inez nearly in tears, laughing so hard; Jeanne, so enveloped in her concentration to even notice the hilarious noises swimming around her trying to form some sort of resemblance of either language; sweet Ms. Rose’s face was clearly transitioning from concentration to an outburst of laughter, the perfect balance of the two extremes. Then there was me – the photos she captured of me reflected the joy spilling out of me. I was in my element, doing what I had been trained to do years ago, not in the foreign land I thought I would be in some day, but twenty-five minutes from home, surrounded by the colorful prints of Africa and the faint smell of rice lingering from lunch a few hours before. The bright white smiles contrasted the dark, beautiful faces outwardly, but also beneath them were stories of darkness, pain, and struggle --stories that I dived right into, willing to share the burden of the pain and determined to do more than just put a band-aid on the problems they were currently facing. It was in the waiting that God had prepared me for this mission and the pieces just came together in his timing, revealing a more beautiful picture than I could have imagined.

One of those many pieces was reading Jenny’s book. In the week before she asked me to give her feedback, I was inundated with helping the refugee families I had been working with for months (and then some) fight eviction notices. I was over- whelmed and my let’s fix it mentality toward life was not working – this was out of my league and realm of knowledge but I couldn’t sit around and do nothing. Then Jenny says, Hey, can you read my book and let me know what you think? Oh, and can you read it all by the end of this weekend? – It was Thursday. I never finish books. It’s a fault of mine. I’m ashamed to say it, as I am a teacher – a language teacher at that, and books are just about the biggest part of the recipe for success in developing language. But I did it! I read her entire book in one weekend.

I’ve known Jenny several years now and walked alongside her through many of the stories she described. And most of the ones from before I met her, I had heard before. But reading her story on paper breathed new life into the stories. I felt her passion, pain, fears, love, and joy. In just a few days I saw the pieces of HER puzzle come together in such a beautiful picture. I mean, I already know God is using her for greater things and changing the world through her. Yet reading about each piece of the puzzle that prepared her, shaped her, and grew her not only inspired me to dive head first into my own puzzle pieces, but also reminded me of who it is we serve. This God doesn’t mass produce a bunch of copies of the same few puzzles. No! He has uniquely designed us, has great plans for us and uses even the ugliest, wonkiest pieces of our individual puzzle pieces to shape us, grow us, and create the most beautiful pic- ture of His grace and great love for each one of us.

So with that, I hope you enjoy watching the pieces of Jenny’s puzzle come to- gether and may you see the beautiful picture that is being assembled. May the stories encourage you to step out in faith and let God continue writing YOUR story – how- ever unknown, dark, daunting, or drab those pieces may seem.

- Jessica Blazer

PREFACE

A Firm Hello

I was welcomed into her manyatta, a traditional round hut made of soil, clay, water, and sticks. These huts are never more than seven feet tall with a little opening about two-and-a-half feet from the ground. You have to give a deep bend in the knees to get into the home, but once you are in there, you feel as if you were welcomed into a sacred place. The intricacies of the hut are beautiful and stuffed in between the sticks of the structure are spoons, bowls, tools, and an animal skin mat. This is the mat the people of Turkana roll up and stick in their walls during the day. At night, they bring it down to put over the dirt floor and to rest their heads.

When I first met Margaret, it was outside of her manyatta the previous year. The meeting was distant, but still welcoming as much as it could be. I sat beside her with her, and at that time, I was seven months pregnant with my third child. I was in awe of her work – the raw beauty of natural reeds being woven into complex pieces like baskets. I sat in admiration and gratitude as she allowed me to sit on one of her intricately woven mats outside of her home. The beauty of this moment was its diver- sity, and also its commonality. There we were, two different generations, two different cultures, and two different mothers. We were also both human, women, and sat thereonly with few words between us, but with a level of respect for one another that fore- told how we could learn and grow together.

Our differences were outwardly evident, but the similarities that enveloped our souls, like the concern for injustices, or the desire to create dignified work, or the hope that food would become a daily occurrence versus a weekly one, were astound- ingly present even amid the silence. These similarities are what brought us together and how our spirits aligned.

So, that following year - one year later - Margaret welcomed me into her manyatta—not just on the outside of it, but inside—and as I sat there and stared upon her beauty she and I locked eyes. In that moment we communicated a deep level of respect for one another. A deeply rooted trust was forming and a love was growing deeper than we could put words to.

She was truly empowered, enlightened, and emitted confidence. Her eyes smiled back at me and mine to hers and within seconds we reflected gratitude into one another’s hearts without one word being spoken.

The following day, I sat there and looked around me taking it all in. Besides feeling like I was boiling from the inside because it was 110 degrees Fahrenheit, I felt like I was at home. I felt this deep sense of alignment that I was supposed to be exactly there in that moment.

There were three different languages being spoken around me at once - Tur- kana, Swahili, and English. There were kids running around, chai being taken, baskets being woven, and laughter filling the room. I took in the distinct smell of the natural reeds as the women around me began weaving their new basket designs—designs that had just been taught by our program coordinator—and the joy that radiated through every woman was overwhelming the room.

There was a sense of excitement, wonder, and love that was filling the small cement block space that we were in and all I could think to myself, as I was sitting on the dirt floor with the sun beaming on my face from the outside in was this is it.

This is what it looks like to be a vessel of impact.

Sitting on a mat next to an empowered woman. Both from different cultures. Both of us with different stories. But both with an immense amount of respect for one another in the present. In the hope. In the opportunities that were being created - together.

I sat with chai in one hand and a basket in another and looked around. I was in awe that God chose me, and all the divine connections and relationships He put in my path over the years, to make this moment happen.

To many, it would seem mundane. Women drinking chai and weaving baskets on a dirt floor in the middle of a desert.

But to all of us. In that room. It was magical and the start of something beau-tiful.

I should probably admit this now, before I say anything else: I am ordinary. I am nothing special. I am not here to prove anything nor did I set out to save the world.

I am just an individual who had the audacity to trust her gut, follow her spirit, and let it be wild. To push into the unknown and have the willingness to take those big risky leaps.

I am not here to put a Band-Aid on something, but I am here to radically lis- ten, grow, learn, and create opportunities - together - that transform communities. To come alongside women with skills and leverage those skills to market so that dignified work can be consistently created. So that there can be holistic care, equal opportu- nities, and uplifting opportunities for those around me. I was built to create, to instill hope and to create long-lasting change.

I did nothing but say yes. To see what could be and push into that, instead of shying away.

When I first arrived in Turkana, I heard the stories of hunger; people here could go weeks without food, and once there was truly nothing left and desperation settled in, then they would start to cut the animal skin mat from within their homes and boil it, so they could chew throughout the day and just have a little something in their bellies for the night.

I heard stories of child brides, of young girls being married at the age of twelve and taken as the third or fourth wife to a man over seventy. A child being stripped from her adolescence without her consent, her childhood taken away in an instant because her right to go to school or make decisions for her future was nonexistent. The hardest stories to hear were of families so desperate they would let their little girls go for brides at younger and younger ages, in trade for cattle, land, and the bride price.

Sometimes the stories were simply too much for me to even imagine. These are stories of crisis - where drought, famine, and swarms of locusts all hit at once and there is no food or water and the extreme conditions that develop almost make it impossible to live. Where development aid is needed, but is a temporary, Band-Aid solution to a problem that will resurface in the next season.

This is Turkana. This is what greeted me with a firm hello.

I stepped off the sketchiest flight I have ever been on in my life - you know the flights you see in movies where the characters grab their phones to make that one phone call to their loved ones as they are flying through a thunderstorm type fight – yeah that sketchy. So, as I step off a nerve-wracking, adrenaline-rushing flight, I im- mediately take in the dusty air and intense sun of the desert sky, and as my feet hit the ground, my nerves calmed, my heart centered, and I knew I was where I needed to be.

I remember in that moment all I could think is we can do better—let us do better, together.

Local Turkana woman selling baskets in Lodwar

Mariam welcoming Jenny to her home

Let it Be Wild

CHAPTER 1

Beginnings

Looking back, I know that deep down, I was always interested in doing better—making a real impact—and from a very young age. I’ve been doing this kind of work since I was ten years old.

When I was in fifth grade, our elementary school put on a business fair and I had to create a business. They taught us the basics: how to calculate cost of goods, supplies that would be needed--business knowledge that a ten-year-old could comprehend. Thinking this way was a challenge, and I loved it; I’m sure this is when my entrepreneurial spirit was born.

I wasn’t all business, though. My sweet ten-year-old self wanted to make something that people loved, something that they ooohed and aaahed over. As always, I tended to take things a bit too far, of course. Whatever I made, it had to be the best. It had to also be something that had never been done before.

After