Mary Mwangi still remembers the day in 2018 when doctors confirmed she had stage-three breast cancer. The 52-year-old mother of three shut herself away from the world.
“I felt like it was the end of me,” she says. “I told my husband I did not want to interact with anyone. The world felt so violent.”
What followed was a mastectomy, 33 rounds of radiotherapy and four years of treatment that wiped out her hair, her savings and a KSh1.3 million loan she had taken to expand her tailoring business.
Yet the deepest wound came from her community in central Kenya, 40 km northeast of Nairobi. People began calling her “the woman whose breasts were cut”.
“Losing them affects your dignity,” Mwangi says. She was declared cancer-free in 2020.
From patient to pioneer
In hospital wards she saw other women hiding their chests under oversized scarves. Many had also undergone mastectomies but could not afford silicone prostheses that cost up to KSh22,000 each.
Mwangi learned to knit soft, colourful yarn breasts at a support group, perfected the pattern through YouTube tutorials and began selling them for KSh1,500.
The prostheses are stuffed with fibre and slipped into pocketed bras that she sells separately for KSh1,000 to KSh2,000.
She now makes about 50 pieces a week and has sold more than 600 prostheses and 450 knitted hats. Bulk orders go to partners including Milele Health, Kenyatta National Hospital and Childhood Cancer Initiative, which distribute them free to survivors.
Restoring confidence, one stitch at a time
Joy Kulet, a psychologist who works with mastectomy patients, says the impact goes far beyond cost.
“Losing a breast for a woman is more than physical; it is psychological,” Kulet explains. The knitted versions help women feel whole again.
Mwangi runs New Dawn Cancer Warriors, a support group where survivors share experiences. One member, a 33-year-old called Jane, arrived too shy to speak. After receiving encouragement and a donated prosthesis, she now sits at the front and contributes freely.
Training survivors to support themselves
Among them is Hannah Nungari Mugo, 46, a former vegetable seller who survived breast cancer in 2019. Treatment drained the family’s savings and left her labelled “fragile” by neighbours.
Mugo now knits seven prostheses a week and sells them through Mwangi’s shop, earning money to feed her family.
Even women with other conditions join. Mary Patricia Karobia, 58, who had a liver transplant in 2011, makes four prostheses weekly.
“Making them gives me joy because I am helping breast cancer survivors regain their self-esteem,” she says.
A dream for nationwide reach
Space is tight – only four trainees fit at a time – and rising yarn costs have forced occasional price increases. Mwangi cannot yet register a formal training school.
Still, she has big plans.
“My dream is to train as many cancer survivors as possible in Kenya,” she says. “I want them to have their own independent businesses so they too can earn a living through knitting.”
