KenyaOnAShoeString: Real Advice for Real Kenyans

When the dream finally comes true, but you don’t feel happy. A few days ago, I got braces. Not the kind where you just wake up and decide to get them—but the kind I’ve wanted since I was young. My mum, doing the best she could, got me braces for my upper jaw. We couldn't afford the full treatment then. But that desire to complete what was started? It never left me. So I saved. For months. Quietly, diligently. And when the day finally came, I got them. Full braces. A dream finally realized. But almost immediately, I noticed something strange. I wasn’t excited. I wasn’t proud. I wasn’t even relieved. I just felt… tired. Drained. From day one, I started wondering why I wasn’t happy. Why couldn’t I enjoy the moment? I had worked for this. I had saved for this. I had made peace with the cost. So why couldn’t I smile—beyond the metal wires? Instead, I found myself worrying. “Will I ever get to enjoy my tiny home someday—or will I just feel like this again?” You see, that tiny home ...

In Kenya, rest can feel like a distant luxury. We live in a society where every move, every decision, and every shilling spent is driven by the fear of uncertainty. Rest is not always a reward for hard work; sometimes, it feels like a risk. The underlying anxiety that if we stop, even just for a moment, we might lose everything can overshadow our ability to truly pause. For many, rest is not a given, but a gamble. In a country where nothing is guaranteed, and survival often means holding on by the thinnest thread, finding peace of mind seems like a far-off dream. Even with the strides some people make toward stability, the constant tug-of-war between short-term pleasures and long-term security keeps them from truly feeling secure enough to rest. The Emotional Toll of Constant Preparation Think about a young woman who has scrimped and saved to buy a boda to supplement her income. But instead of investing in that bike, she takes on the responsibility of paying her younger siblings’ schoo...