Inheritance: An Intergenerational Record of Love and Legacy
This photo series is part of an ongoing effort to document the intergenerational relationships that shape my sense of self, history, and belonging.
Through words and images, Inheritance honours my grandmother, Jennifer Mukabe Makumba Chiwela, and the countless people like her whose love, intellect, and courage built the foundations on which we stand.
It is hoped to be a record of presence, of learning, and of deep gratitude. An intimate archive of what we pass between generations: memory and the quiet work of becoming.
I cannot think about independence or identity without thinking about my maternal grandmother, Jennifer Mukabe Makumba Chiwela.
Jennifer, or Grammy, as we affectionately call her, gave me her spirit and, I like to think, her face.
She is my friend, my mentor, my mirror, and my home.
This photo series began as a quiet ache, a recognition of time and its fragile generosity.
One afternoon, after a doctor’s appointment, we drove together in the car in search of her prescribed medication. It had also been a few days since we had seen each other, coinciding with the passing of a family member, and she was sharing the details of the traditional proceedings that followed the burial: the protocols, the roles, the unspoken codes that keep a family bound. She is now the eldest in our lineage, the voice of our side of the family. Listening to her speak that day, it struck me: I don’t know how much time I have left to learn from and about her. To ask. To remember.
That awareness became a kind of panic, a tenderness mixed with urgency. I wanted to savour her, to hold her laughter and her hands, to record the rhythm of how she thinks and the cadence of her voice when she tells me about the world.
So I called a dear friend and now, brother, Kabelenga Phiri of Kwitu, and asked him to capture us as we are. No performance, just two women bound by love, by history, by the quiet recognition of one another.
I wanted to hold us, to remember us.
So here is an ode to the girl I love.
Dear Grammy,
Thank you for being my friend, my compass and my witness.
For seeing me and for reminding me who I am, and whose I am.
Thank you for indulging me, even when I insisted on one more photo after you’d had enough and wanted to go inside for tea. 🙂
For holding me when I’ve navigated love and loss, for letting me share my perspective on development work and the weight of trying to make a meaningful contribution to this continent that raised us both.
Thank you for letting me boast about small victories, like the time I excitedly burst into your office, mid-workday, to share that my classmates and I had finally cracked an econometric problem during 3rd year undergrad Econ; and for whispering that you were proud of me.
Thank you for welcoming every friend of mine as your own, and for cautioning me, gently, when my spirit was too open.
For showing me what fierce loyalty, dedication, conviction and generosity look like.
Thank you for letting me see you, too: the sermons drafted late into the night, the speeches carefully prepared, the partnerships developed and strengthened, and the meals cooked with devotion for my grandfather and your brood. For sharing not only your triumphs but your fears.
For showing me what it means to live as a woman of intellect, courage, and grace.
Thank you for letting me try on your shoes, making my own small steps in holding our family by drawing from your openness and intention, and for guiding me when I stumble.
You are my teacher in love and in purpose.
You remind me that to be Zambian, to be African, is to hold both joy and duty in equal measure.
You are 85 this December, and still curious about the world. I marvelled on the day of our shoot, coming to your home to find you watching videos about Ibrahim Traoré and other African leaders, to still be asking and interrogating what Africa needs, still pushing me to think beyond the surface.
The images we made together capture only a fraction of who you are - a woman of faith and a sense of urgency, of humour and history. But they are my attempt to keep you close.
I hope when you see them, you are reminded of your depth, your breadth, and your beauty, not just of face, but of mind and legacy.
I love you.
Your Granddaughter,
Sekayi Mwila Fundafunda.
For Zambia’s 61st Independence Day, this is my commemoration.
A reminder that our liberation stories are not only written in parliaments and history books, but they live in the quiet endurance of our grandmothers.
In the ways they fed us, raised us, corrected us, and still, even now, dare to dream of a freer continent.
This is my inheritance.
Her spirit. Her love. Her friendship. Her faith in what Africa could still become.
Acknowledgements:
Photography: Kabelenga Phiri
Creative & Art Direction: Sekayi Fundafunda & Kabelenga Phiri
Location: Jennifer Chiwela’s home
Jennifer Chiwela’s Hairstylist: Her granddaughter, Bupe Nicole Chelelwa
Jennifer Chiwela’s Wardrobe:
Dress and necklaces - a gift from her daughter-in-law, Joyce Chiwela;
Studs - a gift from her granddaughter, Tukiya Fundafunda;
Beaded bracelet - a gift from her late sister, Omega Bula;
Sandals - a gift from her daughter, Gina Chiwela;
Necklace pendant - purchased on a working visit to Nigeria around 2007/2008.
Sekayi:
Adire pieces - Grace Hanf of Mama G Adire;
Headwrap - Sono Concept Store
Earrings - Lightfoot Zambia
