We Don’t Know How to Say Thank You

A neighbor once told me, “Si unajua tu I’m grateful?”

And I remember standing there, trying to make sense of that sentence. Yes, I had done something for him. A small gesture. Ordered breakfast when he was having a rough time. But no message. No call. No proper acknowledgment. Nothing.

He assumed I knew.
I didn’t.
And that relationship slowly died—because silence, even when coated with good intentions, can feel like neglect.

The Kenyan Gratitude Gap

I’ve lived here most of my life. I know how kind we can be.
But I also know how emotionally lazy we’ve become when it comes to expressing thanks.

We think gratitude is a formality. Or maybe a weakness. Or maybe we just never learned.

We assume:

Saying "thank you" is enough.
People should know we appreciate them.
Kindness doesn't need follow-up.

But here's the truth: not all thank-yous are created equal.
You can't say “thanks” for a life raft the same way you do for a bottle of water.

Scenario 1: The Job Link

You’re job hunting. A friend sees a vacancy, thinks of you, and forwards it. You apply, you get the job.
You text: “Thanks, man!”

That’s not gratitude. That’s a reply.

What could be better?

“Thank you for thinking of me. That link changed the game. First round interview is done—I'll keep you posted.”
Take them out for coffee. Buy them airtime. Tell others about their generosity.
Recommend them for something in future.

Gratitude is more than saying thanks—it’s reflecting back the impact.

Scenario 2: The Rent Crisis

You’re in a tight spot. Rent is due. You’re stuck.
Someone—not even your close friend—sends you KES 3,000. Not because you asked. Just because they noticed the struggle.

You text: “Asante sana 🙏.”
Then disappear.

Later, you reappear when there’s another crisis.

This is how people close their doors.

What could be better?

“I didn’t know how to ask for help, and you still saw me. Thank you for helping me breathe.”
Later, when things are better, send them airtime. A soda. A small lunch.
More than anything, keep them updated—not out of obligation, but connection.

Gratitude is also stewardship of the relationship.

Scenario 3: The Encourager

You’re spiraling. Not financially—but emotionally. Life feels hard.
Someone sends you an article. A podcast. A message that reminds you of who you are.

They follow up with a “Checking in today—how are you feeling?”

You read, feel better, reply: “Thanks.”
Then you vanish.

This is emotional ghosting.

What could be better?

“That message caught me at a dark time. I didn’t reply immediately because I was overwhelmed, but it helped. Thank you.”
The next time they seem low, you check in. You recommend a resource. You become the giver.

Gratitude becomes a circle, not a one-time event.

Not All Gratitude Is Equal

Here’s something no one teaches you:
A KES 500 donation, a life-changing job referral, a shoulder to cry on, a couch to sleep on, or a message that saved you from spiraling—these things deserve different forms of gratitude.

Not all acts of kindness weigh the same.
So don’t say thank you like they do.

Why This Matters

If you keep treating deep gestures with shallow thanks, people will stop giving you their depth.

Because:

Gratitude is how people know their efforts were seen.
Gratitude teaches you humility.
Gratitude preserves the invisible threads that hold our lives together.

And no, you don’t need money to show it. You need presence. Creativity. Sincerity.

Some Kenyan Ways to Show Real Gratitude

Airtime. Data. Even 50 bob goes a long way.
A poem. A voice note. A well-thought text.
Sharing an opportunity in return.
A small gift. A surprise lunch.
Calling back just to say: “I’m still grateful. That moment meant something.”

Remember:

You don’t owe anyone your whole life for helping you.
But you owe them a moment of deliberate thanks.

Not an emoji.
Not a silent assumption.
Not a recycled "thanks, bro".

Say what it was.
Say what it meant.
Say how it helped.

Then live your gratitude by becoming the kind of person someone else can count on.

Grounding mantra:

“I honour what I’ve received by how I give. I remember what was done for me by how I say it.”

Reflection:
Think of one person you’ve never properly thanked.
Now think: how would you like to be thanked if the roles were reversed?

Call to action:
Read more reflections at kenyaonashoestring.co.ke
Support the work at coff.ee/kenyaonashoestring
Join the WhatsApp Community: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029Vb6exSUElagyhwBnG536

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...

KenyaOnAShoeString

Search This Blog