Nairobi — The wrinkled faces twitch slightly; their rheumy eyes struggling to size me up. With frail hands, they each gently squeeze mine, their hoarse voices mumbling inaudible greetings. Yet as I look at these three grandmothers, I can feel their sense of hope...and resilience.

"I have seen it all," mutters 66-year-old Esther Mudhasia, the lanky grandmother of 11 orphans. "I have seen my children go down, one after the other, slowly wither into undignified deaths, trimmed down in their prime by the scythe that is Aids..." her voice trails off, as she pats the head of one of her grandchildren.

But 77-year-old Ketsia Luvandale is more upbeat, living one day at a time. "I think I have seen the worst. We have lived most of our lives mourning our loved ones, living from hand to mouth and as we stride towards our sunset, I believe we have lived our lives to the fullest."

Taking care of her grandchildren, she adds, is a big gamble. "With my small piece of land, I keep on hoping for the rains, and when they come, I pray for strength to be able to cultivate my crops," says Luvandale.

Both are exhausted, sick at heart and afraid for their grandchildren's future. Life in the sleepy village of Kapkoi in Moi's Bridge near Eldoret, aptly captures the grim yet unending statistics that plague rural communities in sub-Saharan Africa, and indeed, the world.

Role of parenting

Africa has become a continent of orphans -- as many as 12 million children have been orphaned by Aids. Grandmothers bury their adult children and start the role of parenting all over again, caring for their orphaned grandchildren.

They have mourned all their departed ones, yet still struggle with life's challenges with meagre resources, inadequate food, deteriorating health, and limited support to bridge the generation gap and help their grandchildren go through life without parents.

"Parenting has radically shifted...modern children expect more than we can offer. Sometimes we are unable to provide even the most basic needs yet the grandchildren expect us to provide them with computer games," says 60-year-old Lucy Nyakoa.

The grandmother takes care of five orphans, two in primary school, two in kindergarten while one is yet to be enrolled. The worst orphan crisis is in sub-Saharan Africa, where 12 million children have lost one or both parents to Aids.

By 2010, this number is expected to be more than 18 million. As staggering as these numbers are, the crisis is poised to worsen if parents struck by HIV and Aids do not get access to life-prolonging treatment and effective prevention services.

The harsh reality of such grandparents going back to a role they played many years earlier, however, does not dampen their hopes. Hurdling up in small groups, the grannies exchange ideas and experiences, in the process acquiring tips on modern parenting skills, building their self-confidence and getting fresh perspectives of raising their grandchildren.

"Women, who at this stage in their lives were hoping to be taken care of themselves, are doing everything they can to ensure that their grandchildren are fed, clothed, educated, and cared for," says Ms Stella Amojong, a volunteer. Despite advances in HIV treatment and access to anti-retroviral drugs, the number of Aids orphans is projected to exceed 25 million by the end of the decade.

And eight years after the world pledged a reduction in the transfer of HIV from mother to baby, only eight per cent of pregnant women in the developing world are getting full treatment, and 900 babies a day are being born with the Aids virus, says a report released by the Aids-Free World advocacy group.

With such a gloomy future staring at them, the grandmothers are ill-equipped to provide for their grandchildren and their struggles have gone unnoticed for years. Although little research has been conducted on the effect of HIV and Aids on elderly care-givers, evidence shows that in addition to psychological trauma, such grandmothers are also victims of stigma and discrimination associated with HIV.

"Most of these grandmothers are less likely to receive health and social services," says Ms Amojong. "Their vulnerability symbolises part of a vicious cycle: their new roles as untrained community care givers put them at high risk of infection, and therefore exposure to HIV, and lack of access to health care, and social support perpetuates their conditions of poverty."

The future might be bleak but the strength and resilience of women like Mudhasia, Luvandale and Nyakoa in the face of the devastating pandemic seems unimaginable somehow. "We have seen many tomorrows. There are still more to come," Mama Luvandale whispers, gently touching my hand.