It Didn’t Start Yesterday

In Westlands, Nairobi, a billboard from Afro Fit gym reads: "The heart attack at 50 began at 20. The Alzheimer's at 70 started at 40. The loss of independence at 80 began at 30. The aging you want tomorrow begins with the choices you make today."

The message is simple but unsettling: the crisis we fear tomorrow is often built on the habits we ignore today.

1. Health is Not an Emergency Button

In Kenya, many of us treat health like a fire extinguisher – something we reach for only when there is smoke. We push through exhaustion, joke about back pain, normalize insomnia, and ignore creeping weight gain. We only act when the problem becomes visible: a collapsed uncle, a diabetic aunt, a friend who "just stopped remembering things."

But true health is never about quick fixes. It is about patterns.

2. The Myth of Expensive Wellness

Health does not start in the gym. It starts with the walk to the shop. The water you choose over soda. The ugali and greens you eat instead of daily chips. The 8 hours of sleep you gift yourself.

We have been misled into thinking that health is for the rich: for those who can afford avocado smoothies, gym memberships, Fitbits. But that is not true. For most Kenyans, wellness is possible with what we already have – time, intention, and community.

3. We’ve Normalized Poor Aging

We expect our bodies to break down. We say, "Mzee huyo," when someone groans after standing. We expect forgetfulness. We assume pain is natural. But what if these things aren't inevitable? What if they are the result of years of neglect, not aging?

Mobility, memory, and independence are not luxuries. They are the rightful outcomes of a life lived with care.

4. Why We Wait Until It’s Too Late

Time Pressure: We say, "Niko busy."
Cultural Shame: People tease joggers. Stretching is "mzungu stuff."
Economic Strain: We think only the rich can afford to be healthy.

But the truth is: small decisions compound. You don’t need 3 hours. You need 15 minutes of walking, a decision not to take that second soda, and the courage to go to bed early.

5. How to Start – A Simple Kenyan Routine

Daily:

Walk for 30 minutes (to the shop, market, or just around the estate)
Eat at least one home-cooked meal with real vegetables
Stretch when you wake up (neck, back, arms, legs)
Drink 1 extra glass of water
Cut sugar in tea or skip one junk snack

Weekly:

Sleep early one night a week
Unplug from stress – phone off, mind quiet
Do one thing your future body will thank you for (dancing, skipping, relaxing)

6. This Isn’t Just About the Body

The message of Afro Fit applies to every part of life:

The anxiety at 40 began at 25 with ignored stress and no emotional boundaries.
The financial crisis at 60 started at 30 with no plan, no savings culture, and high lifestyle pressure.
The loneliness at 70 began at 35 when we stopped making time for friends, lost the art of check-ins, and didn’t learn to nurture healthy community.
The mental burnout at 45 began at 28 when we glorified overworking, refused rest, and didn’t protect our minds.
The stalled career at 50 began at 25 when we never invested in small skills, exposure, and daily discipline.

Every future problem is built on today's small decisions. But so is every future success.

7. Reclaiming Health and Wholeness as a Birthright

You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to begin.

Health is not something rich people buy. It is something wise people build. And it starts not tomorrow, but today – with your breath, your plate, your rest, your walk.

Let’s not wait until we’re sick, broke, isolated, or exhausted to remember what being well feels like.

Mantra: Health isn’t a destination. It’s a quiet habit.

Call to Action: Start where you are. One step. One stretch. One glass of water. One full night of sleep.

Daniel Arap Moi — The Shadow and the Shepherd: A Deep Dive into Kenya’s Second President

If Jomo Kenyatta was the founding father, Daniel Toroitich Arap Moi was the long-reigning stepfather — sometimes protective, often punitive, and almost always enigmatic. He ruled Kenya for 24 years, the longest of any president to date. To some, he was the gentle teacher, Mwalimu , who kept the nation from tearing apart. To others, he was the architect of a surveillance state, a master of patronage and fear, the man who perfected repression through calm. This is a portrait of Daniel Arap Moi — not just as a ruler, but as a man shaped by modest beginnings, colonial violence, and the hunger for order in a chaotic time. Early Life: The Boy from Sacho Daniel Arap Moi was born on September 2, 1924, in Kurieng’wo, Baringo, in Kenya’s Rift Valley. He came from the Tugen sub-group of the Kalenjin community. His father died when he was just four. Raised by his uncle, Moi’s early life was marked by hardship, discipline, and deep Christian missionary influence. He trained as a teacher at Tambach ...

Not All Disabilities Are Visible

Some pain does not leave a mark. Some exhaustion does not show in the face. Some people are carrying weights that have no name, no diagnosis, and no outward sign. We are used to recognizing suffering only when it can be pointed to — a bandage, a crutch, a cast, a wound. Something we can see. But the human interior is its own world, and often, the heaviest struggles live there. The Quiet Work of Holding Yourself Together There are those who walk into a room smiling, contributing, present — and yet they are holding themselves together one breath at a time. Not because they are pretending, but because they have learned to live with what would overwhelm another person. Some battles are fought inside the mind: The slow grey of depression The relentless hum of anxiety The sudden, unbidden memory that takes the body back to a place it never wants to return The deep fatigue that sleep does not cure And yet, life continues. The world moves. The dishes still need to be wa...

Know Thyself: The Quiet Power of Naming Your Nature

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” — Carl Jung We live in a culture that equates good intentions with goodness, and ambition with ability. But very few people in Kenya—or anywhere—truly know what they are made of. We can name our qualifications and our dreams. But ask someone their vices or virtues, and they hesitate. Worse, they lie. The Danger of Self-Unawareness In Kenya today, many of us are wandering through life making choices—big, small, and irreversible—without truly understanding who we are. We end up in jobs we despise, relationships we shouldn’t be in, or positions of influence we aren’t emotionally or ethically equipped for. And at the root of this dysfunction is a simple truth: we don’t know ourselves. This is not a spiritual or abstract dilemma. It’s a deeply practical one. To know oneself is to understand your vices, your virtues, your weaknesses, and your strengths—not in a vague sense, but in detail. Let’s ge...

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