I have been dealing with a problem in my foot for almost two weeks. This might not sound particularly dramatic. It isn't cancer. It isn't an emergency. It isn't even the kind of pain that stops me from going about my day. Which is perhaps why I found myself hesitating. You see, I am a walker. Not the kind of person who takes a stroll every now and then. I walk for two to three hours most days. Walking is how I think, how I clear my head, and how I make sense of the world. If there is one part of my body I should be willing to invest in, it is probably my feet. Yet when I started calling podiatrists in Nairobi, I found myself doing mental gymnastics. The cheapest consultation fee I found was KES 5,000. Consultation. Not treatment. Not scans. Not medication. Just the privilege of finding out what might be wrong. By the time everything was done, the bill could easily reach KES 15,000 or KES 20,000. And suddenly I found myself wondering whether I really needed a podiatrist. May...
There is a dangerous gospel being preached across Kenya — not always from pulpits, but from the streets, the offices, and the minds of many who consider themselves devout Christians. It is a gospel that says: if you are wealthy, God must be pleased with you. If you are poor, you must be doing something wrong. If you’re struggling, you must lack faith. And if you’re rich, it’s because God is smiling down on your choices. This is the unholy reward — the lie that material wealth is a measure of spiritual approval. It is a pandemic of belief. You hear it in testimonies that focus less on transformation of character and more on bank balances. You see it in social media posts that equate Range Rovers with righteousness. You encounter it in churches where the wealthy sit in the front and the poor are advised to “sow seeds” they cannot afford — just to get God’s attention. “Blessed” — but What Does That Mean? In Kenya today, the word “blessed” is often synonymous with “rich.” A new car? “I...