Don't sell people an incomplete map and then blame them for getting lost. I've been sitting with that thought for weeks because the more I look around, the more I realize that many of the frustrations we carry as a society are not simply about unemployment, corruption, inequality or even money. They are about the stories we tell one another. From the time we are children, we are handed maps for how life is supposed to work. Study hard and life will work out. Get a degree and you'll find a good job. Work hard and success will follow. Save consistently and you'll become financially secure. Find your passion and the money will come. Marry the right person and everything else will fall into place. Believe in yourself. Think positively. Stay disciplined. None of these statements is entirely false. But none of them is entirely true either. The problem is rarely what they say. The problem is what they leave unsaid. Because what is omitted from a story is often just as powerful...
I am seated at a restaurant tucked away in one of Kikuyu's serene corners. The kind of place that feels like a well-kept secret: quiet, clean, surrounded by trees, reasonably priced, and with genuinely good food. It checks all the boxes—except one. It is empty. And not just today. Most times I visit, I find it like this. Empty tables. Attentive but idle staff. A space waiting for energy, for life, for people. Why is it so quiet? Marketing? Maybe. Location? Could be. But maybe the real issue is this: When was the last time you indulged in a so-called “luxury” in Kenya? Let’s pause. Because this question isn't just about this restaurant. It's about the guitar class you dropped out of. The cozy coffee house you haven’t returned to. The art studio that shut down last month. The new hiking company that’s struggling to get bookings. The language school with amazing reviews but dwindling enrolments. We keep asking: “Why are small businesses in Kenya suffering?” But the harder, mor...