Don't sell people an incomplete map and then blame them for getting lost. I've been sitting with that thought for weeks because the more I look around, the more I realize that many of the frustrations we carry as a society are not simply about unemployment, corruption, inequality or even money. They are about the stories we tell one another. From the time we are children, we are handed maps for how life is supposed to work. Study hard and life will work out. Get a degree and you'll find a good job. Work hard and success will follow. Save consistently and you'll become financially secure. Find your passion and the money will come. Marry the right person and everything else will fall into place. Believe in yourself. Think positively. Stay disciplined. None of these statements is entirely false. But none of them is entirely true either. The problem is rarely what they say. The problem is what they leave unsaid. Because what is omitted from a story is often just as powerful...
What happens when the people who once held our hands let go—not because we no longer need love or guidance, but because we’ve been labeled “grown”? In Kenya, like in many places, turning 18 often marks an emotional cutoff. Parents, weary from years of sacrifice, begin to emotionally and practically withdraw. Culturally, there is a sense that once you hit adulthood, you must figure things out on your own. The phrase "Umeshafika miaka kumi na nane, sasa ujipange" (you’re 18 now, figure it out) is spoken half-jokingly but reflects a serious truth. But what if the work of growing up isn’t about becoming completely independent, but about learning to become your own parent? The Great Withdrawal For many Kenyan adults, parental support is replaced with silence, judgement, or pressure to "perform adulthood" successfully. Struggling? You must be lazy. Confused? You must have taken the wrong course. Depressed? You must be ungrateful. Many parents are tired. Emotionally, finan...