KenyaOnAShoeString: Real Advice for Real Kenyans

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 inste...

There’s something sobering about how life ushers us into new seasons—quietly at first, then all at once. Recently, I got braces. What I thought would just be a cosmetic fix quickly turned into a full lifestyle shift. Suddenly, I couldn’t eat the way I used to. The crunchy samosas from that butchery on my way home? Out. Roasted maize from the street corner? Forget it. Even brushing my teeth became a 10-minute routine involving special brushes, floss, mouthwash, and caution. But the hardest part wasn’t even the food. It was the little joys I used to give myself: grabbing an iced Americano and some chips after a long day, taking myself for nyama choma on a solo date. Now I have to think twice. What if that crunchy bite breaks a wire? What if I end up spending more at the dentist? And then there’s the constant dryness. I now carry Vaseline everywhere because my lips are always cracked. Between the bruises on my cheeks, the ache in my jaw, and the sacrifices in my diet—it’s not glamorous...

There’s a kind of grief we rarely speak about in Kenya—the grief that comes not from loss, but from survival. Many Kenyans know what it’s like to give up entire decades of their lives for the sake of family. We raise children who aren’t ours. We care for ageing, ailing parents when healthcare fails. We build homes from scratch while still repaying loans. We battle court cases over family land, support siblings through school, and somehow still show up to work, church, harambees, and funerals with a smile. We are excellent at pushing through pain. We endure. We provide. We hold everything together. And so we often tell ourselves: “I’ll rest when I’m done.” But what if done never comes? Even after the chaos ends—the illness, the debt, the heartbreak—we don’t rest. We move the goalpost. We chase another opportunity. We dream of new lands and new starts. We keep running, because stillness feels foreign. We are a nation that knows how to hustle, how to survive—but we don’t know how t...