If a child grows up to be kind, healthy, responsible, self-sufficient, and decent—but not wealthy—has the sacrifice failed? Most people would instinctively say no. Yet many families behave as though the answer is yes. Not openly, of course. No parent sits their child down and says, "I didn't raise you to be happy. I raised you to be rich." But expectations have a way of revealing themselves. In comparisons with more successful relatives. In questions about promotions, land, and home ownership. In the disappointment that hangs in the air when a child is doing well enough to survive but not well enough to transform the family's fortunes. And perhaps nowhere is this tension more visible than in Kenya, where sacrifice is often treated as the highest form of love. Parents sacrifice for their children. Older siblings sacrifice for younger siblings. Entire generations sacrifice in the hope that the next one will live better. But what happens when sacrifice quietly becomes an...
"Growing up, I saw everybody else fall in love. I saw Europeans fall in love. I saw Americans continuously fall in love. But I never saw Africans fall in love. I saw Africans procreate. I saw Africans affected by HIV and AIDS, but those weren't love stories." — Wanuri Kahiu, director of Rafiki Scene from Life: A couple walks down Moi Avenue. Their clothes match—both wearing bright Ankara prints, perfectly coordinated for Instagram. But their hands do not touch. Their eyes do not meet. Their bodies move parallel but emotionally distant. A child greets their father after school with a formal handshake. A teenage boy stiffens when his mother tries to hug him in public. A man buries his wife and never cries, because "men don't cry." We see the motions of love—weddings, gifts, romantic holidays—but rarely the soul of it. Rarely the warmth, the gentleness, the pause. We see couples. We don't see connection. The Myth of Taboo Somehow, we have come to believe ...