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...
In Kenya, inheritance is a mystery novel with missing pages. Parents buy land, build businesses, invest in property, but when you ask about the future, suddenly, it's 'God’s plan.' The same parents who struggle day and night to provide will let their children battle through terrible jobs instead of integrating them into family businesses. Why? The Kenyan Parent’s Mindset: “I Suffered, You Must Suffer Too” If you ask many Kenyan parents why they don’t teach their children about their businesses—whether it’s a successful dairy farm, a well-stocked kiosk, or a thriving matatu business—the answer is often, “Si mimi nilianza na zero, hata wewe utaanza na zero.” Translation? “I started from nothing, so should you.” This suffering Olympics mindset is why many Kenyans graduate straight into struggle while their parents have assets that could cushion them. Farming is for ‘Shamba Boys’ but Not Their Children Take a family that owns acres of farmland and makes a solid income from far...