KenyaOnAShoeString: Real Advice for Real Kenyans

Today I went thrift shopping. Anyone who thrifts knows the small, private ritual of it: racks too full, mirrors too honest, time moving differently. As I tried on different outfits, something familiar struck me — not for the first time, but with unusual clarity. How important it is to know what you like. And, equally, how important it is to know what does not work for you. There are colours I reach for instinctively, silhouettes I trust. There are fabrics I already know will irritate me, cuts that have betrayed me before. Knowing these things saves time. It spares frustration. It narrows the field in a place designed to overwhelm. And yet. Every so often, something unexpected catches my eye. Something I would never normally pick. Different colour. Different shape. Slightly uncomfortable, conceptually. I try it on anyway — not because I expect it to work, but because curiosity feels safer than certainty in that moment. Sometimes it’s awful. Sometimes it’s quietly perfect. That sm...

“Sometimes the most extraordinary lives are the ones lived most quietly.” – Unknown The other day, I found myself reading the obituary of someone I grew up around. We had gone to the same church, lived in the same neighborhood, but to be honest, I don’t remember him clearly. His face is vague in my memory, his presence faint. And yet, as I read the words written about him — especially the tribute from his two brothers — I was startled. Their words painted a picture of a life lived with meaning: quiet joy, steady love, and the kind of fulfillment that doesn’t always make itself visible to the world. I was shocked, though I didn’t fully understand why at first. Perhaps it’s because I had unconsciously absorbed the belief that a life worth remembering must look a certain way — marked by wealth , prestige , or visible achievements . We often expect fulfillment to carry recognizable markers: a celebrated career, material success , the kind of milestones that people point to with admiratio...

We’ve all heard sayings about life being like water — flowing, shifting, refusing to be pinned down. It sounds wise, almost poetic. But here’s the thing: when life actually shifts under us, most of us panic. A job is lost, a relationship ends, plans collapse — suddenly the wisdom of “just flow” feels like an insult. Because how do you flow when rent is due? How do you change when the ground beneath you feels like quicksand? And yet, flowing is not about pretending everything is easy . It’s about refusing to get stuck. The Weight of Rigidity Think about the last time life surprised you. Maybe your employer cut salaries . Maybe a partner left. Maybe your health demanded a new lifestyle . Did you resist? Dig your heels in and fight? Most of us do. We cling to what was, as if holding tighter will bring it back. But rigidity has a cost. It breaks you. Like a tree fighting a storm until it snaps. The Choice to Flow Water doesn’t stop at obstacles. It bends. It carves a new path. And it...