There is something quietly fascinating about the human body that most of us rarely stop to notice. It knows how to stop. Drink water when you are thirsty, and at some point your body says “enough.” Not in words, but in feeling. You lose interest. The urge fades. Continuing becomes uncomfortable. Eat fruits or vegetables, and the same thing happens. There is a natural point of satisfaction. You do not need to negotiate with yourself. The body simply signals closure. Sleep works the same way. You cannot sleep indefinitely. At some point, you wake up rested or restless. Either way, the system resets itself. Even movement has limits. You can walk, run, or exercise—but fatigue eventually arrives. The body enforces balance without needing instruction. In many of the things that are good for us, there is a built-in stopping point. But modern life is not built the same way. Some of the most common experiences today do not naturally tell us when to stop. Scrolling does not end. Entert...
I’m writing this because I’m angry — not the kind of anger that passes, but the kind that grows. The kind that keeps you up at night. I look at Nairobi today and I don’t recognize it. Not because of development. Not because of traffic. But because this city, this country — my home — is being bought up, piece by piece, by people who don’t love it the way we do . And the rest of us? We're being priced out, pushed aside, and told to be quiet. Studio apartments in Westlands are going for 9 million shillings. Who are they for? Certainly not for the ordinary Kenyan. And yet foreigners — many of them — are buying two, three, four houses like it’s a shopping spree, while the people who grew up in these neighborhoods are priced out, forced to the outskirts, or locked into eternal renting. And when we speak up, we’re told, “Hii nchi si yetu?” I see the face of this country changing — and it’s not just cultural. It’s ownership. It’s power. It’s the future slipping out of our hands. To Those...