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...
Inspired by Martin Niemöller’s haunting poem “First They Came…” , this article explores how silence and apathy shape Kenyan society — and why empathy and moral courage matter more than ever. The Poem That Still Speaks There’s a haunting poem that has echoed through decades, written by a German pastor named Martin Niemöller after World War II. It’s a poem about silence — about how people stand by as others suffer, believing that what happens to someone else doesn’t concern them. "First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—Because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—Because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—Because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me." Niemöller’s words were born in a dark time, but they still ring true — even here, even now. Because in many ways, we Kenyans have mastered the art of looking away . ...