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Showing posts with the label generational trauma

We Are Willing to Risk Almost Everything for Money. We Are Just Unwilling to Risk Money for Almost Everything Else.

I have been dealing with a problem in my foot for almost two weeks. This might not sound particularly dramatic. It isn't cancer. It isn't an emergency. It isn't even the kind of pain that stops me from going about my day. Which is perhaps why I found myself hesitating. You see, I am a walker. Not the kind of person who takes a stroll every now and then. I walk for two to three hours most days. Walking is how I think, how I clear my head, and how I make sense of the world. If there is one part of my body I should be willing to invest in, it is probably my feet. Yet when I started calling podiatrists in Nairobi, I found myself doing mental gymnastics. The cheapest consultation fee I found was KES 5,000. Consultation. Not treatment. Not scans. Not medication. Just the privilege of finding out what might be wrong. By the time everything was done, the bill could easily reach KES 15,000 or KES 20,000. And suddenly I found myself wondering whether I really needed a podiatrist. May...
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The Love We Never Received: When Duty Masquerades as Love

There comes a time in many Kenyan homes when love quietly morphs into duty. The birthday calls stop. The small affirmations of care fade. Support becomes transactional, and affection is reserved for funerals and emergencies. We know our people are “there for us,” but we can’t feel them anymore. “Love is not the meal prepared, it’s the warmth with which it’s served.” In many Kenyan homes, love is measured in chapatis made, fees paid, and water fetched from the borehole. It’s graded in sacrifices, sleepless nights, and school trips funded just in time. From the outside, these are clear signs of care — but are they love? Maybe. But maybe they are duty dressed in love’s clothing.  From rural homesteads in Kakamega to middle-class apartments in Nairobi — emotional generosity is a rarity. We know how to provide, to protect, to discipline, to demand. But many of us, including our parents and their parents before them, never quite learned how to be emotionally generous. In many Kenyan fam...
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If You Think Having Uncomfortable Conversations Is Hard, Wait Until You See the Results of Not Having Them

Kenyans have mastered the art of silence. We call it ‘moving on,’ but what we’re really doing is running away—from pain, from history, from accountability. We tell ourselves that forgetting is the same as healing, that ignoring problems makes them disappear. But our silence has a cost, and that cost is becoming unbearable. "Peace isn’t just the absence of war; it’s the presence of justice." Post-Election Violence: The Wound That Never Heals After every election cycle, we hold our breath. We whisper prayers for peace. But peace isn’t just the absence of war; it’s the presence of justice. And justice requires truth. The 2007/2008 post-election violence left more than 1,100 dead and over 600,000 displaced. We never really talked about it. Instead, we got a political handshake, a commission whose report was buried, and a new government that told us to ‘accept and move on.’ The perpetrators walk free. The victims still wait for justice. The same tensions simmer beneath the surface...
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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 ...
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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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The Great Kenyan Home Ownership Madness: Dreams vs. Reality

Owning a home is a big dream for many Kenyans, but somewhere along the way, practicality has been thrown out the window. Too many people, driven by childhood aspirations or societal expectations, are constructing massive houses only to end up living like misers within them. Let’s break down why this trend makes little sense and what smarter, more sustainable homeownership looks like. The Harsh Reality of Owning a Big House in Kenya Many Kenyans, especially those who grew up in humble backgrounds, grew up being told to “dream big.” Unfortunately, this has translated into building unnecessarily large houses, often with rooms that remain unused, multiple verandahs gathering dust, and massive balconies that no one actually sits on. These houses cost millions to build, yet within a few years, the owners are struggling to maintain them, regretting their choices as they pour more money into renovations. If you need proof, just look at how many old houses in Nairobi remain unsold. No one wants...
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