KenyaOnAShoeString: Real Advice for Real Kenyans

There is a line I heard in a song that has been following me around: “But even lies come dressed in effort sometimes.” At first, I thought it was about other people — the obvious place to start. The relationships that felt convincing because someone tried. The situations that lasted longer than they should have because effort was being expended. But the longer the line stayed with me, the more it turned inward. Because the most exhausting lies are not always the ones we tell others. They are the ones we keep up with ourselves. There are versions of our lives that require constant upkeep. Narratives we repeat so often they begin to sound like truth. Not because they are, but because abandoning them would mean admitting something uncomfortable: that we settled, that we stayed too long, that we chose safety over honesty, or familiarity over alignment. Those admissions cost more than the effort of maintaining the lie. So we try. We show up. We perform consistency. We add small acts o...

There’s a quiet truth most people don’t talk about: women don’t automatically “soften” because of femininity or personality. They soften because of safety. A woman who feels safe with a man — emotionally, mentally, physically, even financially — will express tenderness in ways that would never surface in an unsafe environment. Safety is Not About Money Alone When we hear safety, many people immediately think of financial provision. While stability is important, it is not the whole story. A man may have money but still be unsafe — if he is unpredictable, dismissive, or emotionally cruel. True safety is layered. Emotional safety : She knows she won’t be mocked for her feelings or silenced when she’s vulnerable. Mental safety : She can share her dreams, doubts, and even failures without fear of being belittled. Physical safety : She doesn’t live in fear of anger, violence, or intimidation. Financial safety : She is not forced to constantly carry the weight of survival alone....

There’s a phrase I once stumbled upon: “A man without peace, money, and confidence will take yours.” At first, it sounded like one of those clever online snippets. But the more I thought about it, the more I saw its truth playing out in everyday life — in matatus , in relationships, in workplaces, and in families. The Man Without Peace Peace is not just the absence of war; it’s the ability to live with yourself without projecting your chaos onto others. A man who has no inner peace will disrupt yours. He will pick fights over small issues, stir unnecessary drama, and leave you feeling drained after every encounter. Think of the man who calls you ten times an hour, accusing you of things you haven’t done. Or the friend who is always restless, never content, constantly pulling you into his unresolved battles. His lack of stillness becomes your storm. The Man Without Money Money doesn’t define a person’s worth, but in its absence, especially where there is entitlement, it often be...

Chris Brown’s song Loyal is catchy, no doubt. But listen closely to the lyrics: “When a rich man wants you, and your man can’t do nothing for you… these hoes ain’t loyal.” The entire weight of betrayal is dumped on the woman. The man who knowingly chases someone else’s partner? He is invisible, blameless, even glorified. This narrative isn’t confined to music — it mirrors society. The Invisible Man, the Visible Woman Think about it: a man pursues a married woman, or a man flirts with someone in a relationship. When the story breaks, the woman is branded “unfaithful,” “cheap,” “disloyal.” Yet the man is rarely dragged into the spotlight. He is excused as “just being a man,” or worse, admired for his boldness. In Kenya , scandals play out the same way. Side chicks become national gossip. Their faces and names are plastered everywhere. But the married men who approached them, funded them, or promised them the world? Their reputations remain intact. The blame is not shared. It is ske...

A boss promises you a raise once the project succeeds. A partner hints that if you stay patient a little longer, the relationship might “finally move forward.” Politicians campaign on the promise of jobs, better healthcare, or free education—but only after you elect them, again. We live in a society of endless carrots dangled before us, and we, like donkeys, keep moving forward—hoping this time, the promise will be delivered. But is this way of living sustainable, or are we caught in a cycle where we are always testing the waters and rarely diving in? At Work: The Corporate Carrot In Kenya , this practice is almost institutionalized. Employers dangle promotions, salaries, and opportunities with the familiar line: “Just give it time, prove yourself, then we’ll see.” Internships and probationary contracts are prime examples. Some companies keep interns for years, paying a pittance under the guise of “exposure” or “experience.” A graduate earning KSh 15,000 is promised a salary bum...

You are not as scattered as you think. You are living in a world that is deliberately designed to fracture your focus. From the moment you wake up to the moment you sleep, someone—or something—is trying to steal your attention. It’s not just on your phone. It’s in your workplace, your routines, even your efforts to rest or heal. This is not about personal failure. It’s about engineered distraction —systems built to keep us overstimulated, disconnected, and always wanting more. Let’s take a closer look at how this happens across different aspects of modern life—and what it really costs us. 1. The Internet: Where Attention Becomes Currency We often think of distraction online as a weakness—our fault for clicking too much, scrolling too long. But online spaces are designed to hijack your focus. The Architecture of Distraction Infinite scroll wasn’t invented for convenience—it was created to remove natural stopping points. Auto-play forces your hand before your brain has time...

In a society obsessed with appearances, many people end up with the wrong partners just to seem progressive, open-minded, or in love. We want to be seen as evolved enough to date outside our tribe, class, or beliefs—but we rarely stop to ask: are we truly compatible, or are we trying to prove a point? Old money families—across the world and in Kenya—have long followed a different script. Their rules might seem elitist on the surface, but beneath the surface is a web of practical, time-tested lessons about compatibility, stability, and legacy. It’s time to ask: what do they know that the rest of us ignore? Part I: The Stages of Getting to Know Someone Let’s be honest: most relationships today skip critical steps. Here’s how it should look: Observation Stage (No expectations) This is where you allow yourself to quietly watch without engaging emotionally. You learn a lot by seeing how someone treats waitstaff, how they talk about people who wronged them, or how they manage stress. In Keny...

Africa is not a country. Love is not one thing. Africa is not a country. We’ve heard this phrase used to challenge oversimplified narratives — to remind us that the continent is vast, layered, and irreducibly complex. The same, I believe, applies to love . In many homes and relationships across Kenya, “love” is treated like a catch-all. “My mum loves me. She paid my school fees.” “My dad loves us. He built the house.” “My partner loves me. They send money.” These statements are often shared with pride, and sometimes with pain — an attempt to make sense of affection that felt either too conditional, too distant, or too one-sided. But provision is not presence . Obedience is not connection . And saying “I love you” is not the same as showing up in ways that meet a person’s emotional needs. What we often call love in our culture is vague, generic, and sometimes hollow. To truly heal, connect, and grow, we must learn to name love differently — in the language of care , ...

In many Kenyan homes, love is rarely spoken. It is implied, assumed, or buried under layers of duty, discipline, sacrifice, or silence. Parents love their children, partners love each other, friends care deeply — but few say it, fewer show it boldly, and even fewer know how to receive it. Love, in this context, often feels like a secret: important but unspoken, present but repressed. It comes with caveats — be obedient, be strong, be quiet. For many, this upbringing makes the language of love feel foreign, even embarrassing. But what happens to a people who are never taught to name, receive, or offer love freely? And more importantly — how do we begin to change that? 1. The Emotional Landscape We Inherited Our cultural and generational inheritance around love is complicated. Colonial violence, economic hardship, patriarchal norms, and religious rigidity shaped how love was expressed — or not. Many parents focused on survival, not softness. Love was food on the table, school fees paid, ...

We live in a world that prizes exclusivity — not just in material goods, but in matters of the heart. From romantic relationships to best friends, we’ve built emotional territories: this one is mine, that one is yours. But what if this idea is flawed? What if human beings are wired not for emotional possession, but for layered, plural, and dynamic connections? This article explores the tension between emotional connection and exclusivity — and questions whether our current cultural expectations align with how humans actually experience closeness. 1. The Roots of Emotional Exclusivity Many of us grow up learning that love, loyalty, and intimacy must be contained. We hear things like: “You can only have one best friend.” “If you love someone, you shouldn’t need anyone else.” “Emotional cheating is still cheating.” These statements reflect a belief that deep connection is a zero-sum game: that love given elsewhere is love taken away. But the heart doesn’t function like a bank account. Con...

Somewhere along the way, friendship lost its place in our hierarchy of love. Once revered as one of life’s most sacred bonds — full of laughter, trust, grief, and growth — friendship has now become, in many people’s eyes, a placeholder. A liminal space. A waiting room for romance, or a fallback option if romantic attraction doesn’t materialize. We are overdue for a return — to honoring friendship as a complete, beautiful, and fulfilling connection in its own right. One that does not need to lead anywhere to matter. 1. What Happened to Friendship? In many cultures, including Kenya’s increasingly digital and performative spaces, emotional intimacy is now tightly bound to romance. If you're close to someone, especially of the opposite sex, it’s assumed there’s something more . We don’t trust people to love without agenda anymore. This confusion is not accidental. A few cultural and technological forces have shifted the way we view connection: Media saturation : Almost every movie, sho...