I am always late for work. There. I've said it. And the frustrating thing is that my lateness isn't caused by traffic or some unpredictable morning disaster. Most of the time, it is entirely my own doing. I wake up and make my coffee. Then I get back into bed, which is right by the window, cross my feet, face the window and slowly sip my coffee. And when I say slowly, I mean slowly. I look at the trees. I watch the birds. I feel the morning sun on my skin. Sometimes I just sit there with my thoughts. I really love these mornings. I've also noticed something else. When I give myself enough time in the morning, my body usually does what it needs to do. A slow morning often leads to a bowel movement, which, as far as I'm concerned, is one of the must-haves of starting my day. And so I find myself wishing for more time. More time to sit. More time to drink my coffee. More time to maybe get outside and do some yoga or mat Pilates on the grass while the sun is stil...
"The limits of my language mean the limits of my world." — Ludwig Wittgenstein In Kenya, we speak English and Kiswahili. Many of us have additional languages in our pockets — Sheng, mother tongues, workplace lingo, church expressions. But for all our speaking, many of us remain language-poor in the most crucial sense: we lack the words to describe our own lives. We grow up learning to speak but not always to name. And when you cannot name something, you cannot confront it. You live it, but you cannot explain it—not to yourself, not to others. This is not just a linguistic failure. It is a social, emotional, and even political danger. We do not lack opinions. We lack precision . We don’t lack feelings. We lack language to name them accurately. And when we don’t know the right word for what is happening, we misinterpret it, mislabel it, or worst of all — normalize it. Why Having the Right Word Matters Language is not just about grammar or vocabulary. It is about being seen a...