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Every Life Has Invisible Expenses

One of the easiest things in the world is to mistake an outcome for a story. A beautiful home. A thriving business. A failed marriage. A child in an expensive school. A forty-year-old with no savings. Someone who seems to have it all. Someone who appears to have fallen behind. We see the destination and instinctively begin filling in the journey. Hardworking. Lazy. Disciplined. Irresponsible. Lucky. Entitled. Deserving. Wasteful. Perhaps the most dangerous thing about human beings is not that we judge one another. It is how quickly we become certain that our judgment is correct. Because every life has invisible expenses. Not just financial ones. The kind that never appear on a bank statement or a résumé. Some are chosen. Some are imposed. Some are wise. Some are costly mistakes. Most are a complicated mixture of both. One person reaches middle age with very little savings because they spent years paying school fees for younger siblings. Another because they repeatedly made poor financi...

Vulnerability Is Not an Identity

We have become so focused on identifying vulnerable groups that we have forgotten something important. Vulnerability is not an identity. It is a condition that people move into and out of throughout their lives. That sentence has been sitting with me for weeks because it has made me question how we think about opportunity in Kenya. Listen closely to the language we use. Youth empowerment. Women empowerment. People living with HIV. Rural communities. Low-income households. Persons living with disabilities. Every programme, every scholarship, every grant, every initiative begins by identifying a group. At first glance, this seems perfectly reasonable. Resources are finite. Governments, NGOs and private organisations cannot help everyone, so they must decide who qualifies. The question I keep coming back to is this: What happens to everyone who falls between the categories? Not because they are privileged. But because life refuses to fit neatly into our definitions. Take school fees. A fa...

The Permission to Change — Becoming Many Versions of Ourselves

When a child says they want to be a teacher, a mother, a secretary, and then a singer — all in one lifetime — we smile. We find it adorable. Imaginative. But somewhere along the way, we stop smiling. We start demanding clarity, cohesion, a single label. We forget how expansive it is to be alive. In a world obsessed with consistency, we have made change look like betrayal. We question those who shift — in career, in belief, in appearance, in voice. Influencers are called sellouts. Politicians are labelled flip-floppers. Everyday people feel ashamed for outgrowing dreams that no longer fit. But what if we honored change as a natural part of being human? Why We Struggle With Change From a young age, we are taught to specialize, to narrow down, to “figure it out.” The Kenyan education system reinforces this with its early sorting into career tracks. Society praises clarity — the student who knew they wanted to be a doctor since they were six, the entrepreneur who never wavered. And yet, ve...

Jomo Kenyatta — The Symbol and the System: A Portrait of Kenya’s Founding President

To understand Kenya’s modern state, one must begin with Jomo Kenyatta. A towering figure — both in memory and myth — Kenyatta remains one of Africa’s most enigmatic founding fathers. Celebrated as a nationalist hero and decried as an architect of elite rule, his story is both a mirror and blueprint of the nation he helped shape. But who was Jomo Kenyatta, really? Not the statue on Kenyatta Avenue. Not the name on currency or airports. But the man — Kamau wa Muigai — who lived through cultural dislocation, colonial violence, exile, and nation-making. What shaped his beliefs? What did he dream, fear, protect — and betray? This is not just his biography. It is an inquiry into the psychology, contradictions, and legacies of a man who became both a father of a nation and a guardian of a system. A Boy Without a Father, A Nation Without a Future Kenyatta was born as Kamau wa Ngengi around 1897 in Gatundu, in the heart of Kikuyu country. His father died early, and this absence would remain a ...

Can We Live Without Wanting to Be Watched?

Some long for fame, others for quiet praise — but most of us, in some way or another, want to be seen. Not just acknowledged, but witnessed. Validated. Held in the awareness of others. It shows up in the photos we take, the statuses we draft, even in how we frame our experiences: “If no one knows I did it, did it really matter?” In today’s world — even here in Kenya, where not everyone lives online — the urge to live for the gaze of others is quietly embedded in everyday life. We plan, curate, and sometimes even feel experiences more intensely when we imagine someone else is watching. But what would life feel like if no one was? Can we truly exist without performing ourselves? 1. From Childhood Applause to Adult Validation It’s tempting to blame the usual suspects — Instagram, YouTube, influencer culture. But the craving to be seen started long before platforms. It’s planted in childhood. The child who is applauded for being clever, articulate, or entertaining. The student who shines a...

The Things We Wear So We Don’t Feel Poor: Status Signaling in Kenya

Most of us are performing. Not just online — but in our clothes, our conversations, our spending, our silence. We perform for our families, our neighbors, our peers. We perform for strangers on Instagram and for classmates we haven’t spoken to in years. We perform to say, “I made it,” even when we haven’t. We perform to hide the hustle, the loans, the grief, the shame. In Kenya, to look like you’re struggling is often worse than to actually struggle. So we signal. With shoes, with weddings, with cars, with captions. Because dignity — here — is something you must display to be allowed to keep. We borrowed the car, we leased the house, Took the loan, wore the lace, smiled for the photos. Just to whisper to the world — I am not the struggle I came from. When Dignity Must Be Displayed In Kenya, poverty is more than economic — it is a social stigma, a public shame. Many of us are not just trying to escape hardship, we are trying to escape the look of it. In a society where ...

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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...

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 ...

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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