When I was a little girl, I had these hand-me-down shoes that I loved. I wore them everywhere. Anywhere, really. I don't think I cared whether they were appropriate for where I was going. If those were the shoes I wanted to wear, then those were the shoes I was wearing. And when they became too small, I still didn't want to let them go. I would squeeze my feet into them and somehow convince myself that they still fit. I imagine an adult looking at me and thinking, Child, these shoes are clearly too small. Please take them off. But I loved them. And I think about those shoes sometimes when I hear us talk about things like seasons, letting go, releasing, creating room, moving on. Usually, when we talk about letting go, there is something wrong with the thing we're letting go of. It has become toxic. It doesn't serve us anymore. It is holding us back. We have outgrown it. We need to make room for something better. And yes, sometimes that is exactly what letting go looks li...
Poverty isn’t always loud. It doesn’t always look like hunger or sleeping on the streets. In Kenya, poverty often hides behind clean shirts, job titles, rent paid just in time, and Facebook posts that say "Grateful." For many, managing poverty is a full-time emotional and logistical job. It means constantly weighing which bill can wait. It means borrowing with shame, spending with guilt, and surviving on ingenuity. This article explores how poverty management looks in Kenya today—from the city to the village—and why recognizing it matters. What Is Poverty Management? Poverty management is not poverty eradication. It’s the survival blueprint people create when income is not enough to meet even basic needs. It means stretching a salary, balancing multiple debts, dodging financial obligations, making do without, and constantly being in negotiation with life: "Can I afford to get sick? Can I delay rent? Will this 100 bob get me through the day?" It’s skill. It’s stress....