In defence of hope, a letter to Kenya's youth

Youthful protestors mob a police vehicle along Kimathi Street in Nairobi during the Anti-Finance Bill protests on June 20, 2024.
Dear Kenyan Youth,
The air feels heavy, doesn’t it? Like a storm that’s lingered too long, a sky that carries the weight of broken promises and unfulfilled dreams. And it’s one that seems to have no end in sight either.
You feel like it may be a good time to “adjust your expectations” about life. Like life just isn’t going to pan out how you thought it would- not even close.
You’ve decided that, survival, at the very least should form the bulk of your daily preoccupation. You no longer weep for dreams deferred, but you pray to God you don’t bump into anyone living something approximating that dream.
So you’ve learnt to bow your head as you walk. You’ve stopped seeing colour—just roads, winding into your place of work, then back home. Pass out. Repeat.
You spend more days staring into the horizon, looking at nothing in particular. It’s as if you hope that somehow, the skies would reflect something your way. An answer, a direction, a hint…anything.
Then, when nothing comes, you punctuate these moments with a heavy sigh. Maybe your chest quivers slightly as you breathe out. You’re not sure whether you’re about to break down or just…try to hold it together.
Everything always seems on the verge of breaking, and by now, you’re even amazed at life’s ability to push you so far off the edge, and not throw you off it. Just a dark, sinister game with your emotions.
You probably have an indulgence to numb the pain. A vice. You’re not proud of it, but it keeps the wheels spinning. You’d likely spiral without it. You’re starting to get concerned at your level of indulgence.
You can’t keep outsourcing your sanity. It is not a sustainable strategy, and you know it. But one last time, you lie to yourself. You try to believe yourself but you just can’t. You’ve lied to yourself too much you no longer take yourself seriously.
By now you’ve probably already blurred the line between your part in your own misfortune and what constitutes external factors. It is a negative feedback loop that spirals steadily into hell itself. You bump into some trouble, then you find a way to make it worse, and when it gets worse, you find ways to make it worse some more.
You’re here, never looking into the mirror because you’re afraid of the person you’ll see staring back at you. Life let you down, your government let you down, sometimes even religion made you fall out of love with faith itself- but this doesn’t mean that you, too, should participate in your own undoing.
This is in defence of hope. Life may not be quite blissful yet; but it doesn’t have to be unbearably miserable. There’s always something you can do in a difficult situation to make it so much worse.
And there’s always something you can do in a difficult situation to make it slightly bearable.
To be able to face adversity without breaking into pieces. What sets those two apart is the ability to pick a strategy that accounts for a larger time span (think long term), a larger audience (think beyond yourself), and is an invitation to transcend your immediate basic whims.
I have, over my days, run into people who just needed a kind word to keep going. So encouraging to see just how little it takes to pick people up.
Someone to say, “Hey, you can be better, and you should apply yourself towards it.” But also truly heartbreaking that so many people simply can’t run into that.
A life where nobody sees you, nobody believes in you, where all you need to make it past today is a kind word, from anywhere.
But you just don’t get it. I want you to keep this as that note. Come back to it for those days when skies are so gray, they’re borderline black.
We owe it to ourselves to make something good out of this country, out of ourselves.
All of us can’t leave the country. Who will build it? Where will our children call home? Who will take care of our parents? This is our home, and we must build it. But before we rise to that level, we must all gain mastery of ourselves. Each of us. It adds up over time, I’ve heard.
Be kind. Not because someone is going through a lot, but because kindness must be allowed to keep flowing. Because kindness faces outward.
You cannot hold it. You cannot keep it. And letting it leave creates space for more to keep flowing. Being kind to others is the kindest thing you can do for yourself. Take up responsibility. Find a path that’s difficult to walk on, then walk it. Stop using endless affirmations to make up for the things you refuse to fix. You very quickly start to sound like that politician they refused to listen to in Kisumu.
Finally, trust your neighbour, and be the neighbour that can be trusted. The year 2027 is coming, and there will be voices that will try to plant apathy in your head.
They will under-report youth voter registration to make it sound like you’re a lone sane voice in a sea of sycophants, and that you’re insignificant. You’re not.
You will not be. All of us, one by one, are it. Trust others to make the right decision. But make yours, knowing that I, too will be trusting you. Your one vote. That is all that counts.
The world’s your stage, Kenyan youth- seize it!