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...
We have become so focused on identifying vulnerable groups that we have forgotten something important. Vulnerability is not an identity. It is a condition that people move into and out of throughout their lives. That sentence has been sitting with me for weeks because it has made me question how we think about opportunity in Kenya. Listen closely to the language we use. Youth empowerment. Women empowerment. People living with HIV. Rural communities. Low-income households. Persons living with disabilities. Every programme, every scholarship, every grant, every initiative begins by identifying a group. At first glance, this seems perfectly reasonable. Resources are finite. Governments, NGOs and private organisations cannot help everyone, so they must decide who qualifies. The question I keep coming back to is this: What happens to everyone who falls between the categories? Not because they are privileged. But because life refuses to fit neatly into our definitions. Take school fees. A fa...