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...
What happens when the people who once held our hands let go—not because we no longer need love or guidance, but because we’ve been labeled “grown”? In Kenya, like in many places, turning 18 often marks an emotional cutoff. Parents, weary from years of sacrifice, begin to emotionally and practically withdraw. Culturally, there is a sense that once you hit adulthood, you must figure things out on your own. The phrase "Umeshafika miaka kumi na nane, sasa ujipange" (you’re 18 now, figure it out) is spoken half-jokingly but reflects a serious truth. But what if the work of growing up isn’t about becoming completely independent, but about learning to become your own parent? The Great Withdrawal For many Kenyan adults, parental support is replaced with silence, judgement, or pressure to "perform adulthood" successfully. Struggling? You must be lazy. Confused? You must have taken the wrong course. Depressed? You must be ungrateful. Many parents are tired. Emotionally, finan...