I am always late for work. There. I've said it. And the frustrating thing is that my lateness isn't caused by traffic or some unpredictable morning disaster. Most of the time, it is entirely my own doing. I wake up and make my coffee. Then I get back into bed, which is right by the window, cross my feet, face the window and slowly sip my coffee. And when I say slowly, I mean slowly. I look at the trees. I watch the birds. I feel the morning sun on my skin. Sometimes I just sit there with my thoughts. I really love these mornings. I've also noticed something else. When I give myself enough time in the morning, my body usually does what it needs to do. A slow morning often leads to a bowel movement, which, as far as I'm concerned, is one of the must-haves of starting my day. And so I find myself wishing for more time. More time to sit. More time to drink my coffee. More time to maybe get outside and do some yoga or mat Pilates on the grass while the sun is stil...
Curiosity is alive in Kenya — but it is restless, shallow, and often wasted. We ask questions every day, but most of them don’t take us anywhere. Listen to the radio in a matatu and you’ll hear it: someone calling in to debate whether it’s acceptable to date your friend’s ex. Scroll through social media and you’ll find endless threads about celebrity drama or political insults. Even in offices, the loudest questions are often: “Who annoyed the boss today?” or “When is the next team-building?” We are curious, yes — but about things that rarely stretch us, rarely free us, rarely move us forward. But what if the problem isn’t curiosity itself? What if the real issue is how we phrase our curiosity ? How Curiosity Gets Killed Early From childhood, Kenyans are told: “ Usihoji sana .” Don’t question too much. A child who asks “Why?” too often is labeled stubborn. A worker who questions a system is branded difficult. A citizen who questions leadership is told to “respect authority.” We...