KenyaOnAShoeString: Real Advice for Real Kenyans

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...

In Westlands, Nairobi, a billboard from Afro Fit gym reads: "The heart attack at 50 began at 20. The Alzheimer's at 70 started at 40. The loss of independence at 80 began at 30. The aging you want tomorrow begins with the choices you make today." The message is simple but unsettling: the crisis we fear tomorrow is often built on the habits we ignore today. 1. Health is Not an Emergency Button In Kenya, many of us treat health like a fire extinguisher – something we reach for only when there is smoke. We push through exhaustion, joke about back pain, normalize insomnia, and ignore creeping weight gain. We only act when the problem becomes visible: a collapsed uncle, a diabetic aunt, a friend who "just stopped remembering things." But true health is never about quick fixes. It is about patterns. 2. The Myth of Expensive Wellness Health does not start in the gym. It starts with the walk to the shop. The water you choose over soda. The ugali and greens you eat inste...

"Growing up, I saw everybody else fall in love. I saw Europeans fall in love. I saw Americans continuously fall in love. But I never saw Africans fall in love. I saw Africans procreate. I saw Africans affected by HIV and AIDS, but those weren't love stories." — Wanuri Kahiu, director of Rafiki Scene from Life: A couple walks down Moi Avenue. Their clothes match—both wearing bright Ankara prints, perfectly coordinated for Instagram. But their hands do not touch. Their eyes do not meet. Their bodies move parallel but emotionally distant. A child greets their father after school with a formal handshake. A teenage boy stiffens when his mother tries to hug him in public. A man buries his wife and never cries, because "men don't cry." We see the motions of love—weddings, gifts, romantic holidays—but rarely the soul of it. Rarely the warmth, the gentleness, the pause. We see couples. We don't see connection. The Myth of Taboo Somehow, we have come to believe ...

There’s a quote that says: "To understand something deeply human, you need to immerse yourself in the human experience." In Kenya today, many of us are detached from this experience—not only from others but also from ourselves. We perform life instead of living it. We chase survival or success but forget to feel. We go through heartbreak, loss, joy, and struggle without stopping to ask, _"What is this teaching me about being human?" What Is the Human Experience? The human experience is not just being alive. It is the full range of what it means to live with emotion, memory, choice, culture, struggle, and connection. It’s the smell of githeri on a cold day, the grief of burying a parent, the weight of regret, the joy of first love, the frustration of Nairobi traffic, the laughter at a matatu joke, the panic of a rent deadline, or the hope of a new chama cycle. It is pain, pleasure, confusion, beauty, ordinary moments, and deep resilience. To become a student of the ...

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...

Behind every bare, fenced plot lies a story of a forest felled, a community displaced, or a species exiled. This is land speculation in Kenya. In Kenya, owning land is more than a milestone—it’s a rite of passage. Advertisements promise “affordable plots with ready title deeds,” targeting salaried urbanites and diaspora Kenyans. Entire WhatsApp groups are dedicated to the dream of landownership. But beneath the aspiration lies an uncomfortable truth: the booming land market is one of the most ethically neglected sectors in the country. 1. The Anatomy of Land Speculation in Kenya Land speculation refers to buying land not for use, but to hold it until the price appreciates. It's widespread in areas like: Nanyuki: Once a pastoralist haven, now a checkerboard of idle gated plots. Kitengela and Joska: Transformed from community settlements into dusty subdivisions. Laikipia: Where wild animals are losing corridors to migration and survival. The Diaspora Factor Foreign ...

"It is not only what we do, but also what we do not do, for which we are accountable." — Molière I. The Promise of Profit Everywhere you turn in Kenya today, someone is encouraging you to invest. From financial influencers on TikTok to WhatsApp investment groups to that uncle who now owns three plots in Nanyuki — the message is loud and clear: "Don’t let your money sleep. Put it to work." We are living in the age of the investor. From TikTok to Telegram groups, from SACCO WhatsApp circles to finance podcasts, everyone seems to be an expert on how to grow your money. Bonds. Land. Money market funds. Buy shares. High yield apps. Crypto. Build apartments. Flip land.  And it sounds harmless. Who doesn’t want financial freedom, passive income, or generational wealth? But in our race to grow money, a hard question lurks in the shadows: Do we know where our money goes once we invest it? Do we care who or what it hurts on its way back to us as profit? II. A Brief H...