Our attention is finite, yet we spend it everywhere but where it matters. This is not a moral failure. It is a structural one. Attention economics is the idea that in a world overflowing with information, human attention becomes the scarce resource. Whoever captures it, holds power. Over time, this has reshaped not just markets, but inner lives. What we notice. What we ignore. What we can tolerate. What we can no longer sit with. For a long time, people warned that television would rot our brains. In hindsight, television looks almost generous. A show required you to stay for forty minutes. A film asked for two hours. A detective story invited you to notice details, to remember names, to hold multiple threads in your mind at once. You watched. You followed. You waited. Listening to music meant staying long enough to learn lyrics. Reading meant sitting with confusion until meaning arrived. Writing a poem meant wrestling with language, not skimming it. Even boredom had a purpose—it ...
To watch a ballerina rise to principal dancer, a gymnast bend physics to her will, study a polyglot perfecting pronunciation across languages, or an academician write with generational clarity is to witness not just talent — but years of intentional sacrifice. These are not casual efforts. These are lives shaped by years — sometimes decades — of repetition, refinement, and surrender to the process. Mastery is a long road. It demands humility, sacrifice, obsession, and discipline. In many parts of the world, this is understood and honored. In contrast, many Kenyans seem to struggle with the idea of pursuing excellence for its own sake. We prize quick wins, virality, and visibility, often mistaking them for mastery. There is a growing entitlement, especially among creators, professionals, and young entrepreneurs. We want to be paid for mediocrity, compensated for showing up, and crowned for effort. This isn’t just a personal failure — it’s a cultural crisis. The Myth of Instant Geniu...