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Political Bickerin

Jacaranda Revolution

Jacaranda Revolution

The Cost of the Noise: Why Political Bickering is a Theft of Our Future

At the Kenya Self Help Organisation (KESHO-UK), we often talk about the “hustle.” We talk about the drive of our people to build businesses, educate their children, and uplift their communities from the ground up. But there is a silent, persistent thief that is draining the battery of our national progress. It isn’t a lack of resources, nor is it a lack of talent. It is the endless, exhausting cycle of political bickering.

If you spend even five minutes on Kenyan social media or tune into the evening news, you see it. High-level shouting matches, tribal posturing, and the constant “chess game” of the next election cycle. While the politicians are busy fighting for their seat at the table, the table itself is rotting.

The Philosophy of Stolen Time

Time is the only resource that is truly non-renewable. Philosophically speaking, a nation is just a collection of human lives, each with a limited number of days. Every year that is wasted on political stalemate or “BBI vs. Hustler” or whatever the current slogan may be, is a year stolen from a young entrepreneur who needed a stable policy to start a business. It is a year stolen from a patient waiting for a functional healthcare system.

When our leaders spend four out of every five years campaigning instead of governing, they are committing a form of temporal theft. They are robbing us of the time we need to innovate, to build infrastructure, and to solve the very real problems of climate change and food security. We are stuck in a “permanent campaign” mode that keeps the country in a state of high anxiety and low productivity.

 

The “Theatre” of Division

We have to be honest with ourselves: much of this bickering is a performance. It is a calculated distraction designed to keep us divided along ethnic or regional lines so that we don’t ask the difficult questions about accountability. While the “grass” is busy fighting, the “elephants” are sharing the spoils behind closed doors.

We see this clearly from the diaspora. From our vantage point in the United Kingdom, we see how other nations—even those with deep internal disagreements—manage to maintain a “baseline” of development. They agree on the destination even if they disagree on the route. In Kenya, it feels as though every five years, we try to tear up the road and start again because the “other side” was the one who paved it.

Empowering the Citizenry: Moving Beyond the Noise

So, how do we stop the theft? How do we move from being spectators of a political circus to being architects of our own development?

1. Demand a “Minimum Agenda” for Development We must move beyond following personalities and start following policies. We should demand a national consensus on the things that are too important to be used as political footballs: healthcare, education, and basic infrastructure. These should be protected from the whims of whoever is in power.

2. Focus on “Self-Help” at the Local Level At KESHO-UK, we believe in the power of the community. When we stop waiting for a “saviour” from Nairobi and start organizing at the local level, we take the power back. Development happens when people decide to fix their own schools, secure their own markets, and hold their local representatives to account daily, not just during an election year.

3. Reject the Script of Division The next time you see a politician trying to incite anger against another group, ask yourself: How does this help me pay my rent? How does this fix the road to my farm? If the answer is “it doesn’t,” then turn off the television. The most revolutionary thing a Kenyan can do today is to refuse to be angry on behalf of a politician.

A Challenge to You

We want to hear from you. We are tired of the noise, but we are not tired of the work.

  • Do you feel that political talk is drowning out the real work being done in your community?

  • What is one thing we could achieve as a nation if we stopped campaigning for just three years?

The future of Kenya does not belong to the elite in their SUVs; it belongs to the person working the land, the coder in the hub, and the mother running the shop. It is time we stopped letting political bickering rob us of our most precious asset: our “Kesho.”

Let us stop fighting over who gets to hold the steering wheel and start making sure the car actually has an engine.

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Finding Spirituality and Love

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Sumu ya ROHO

The Bitter Truth Behind the Buzz: Is the “Hustle” Costing Us Our Future?

At the Kenya Self Help Organisation (KESHO-UK), our mission has always been anchored in the spirit of Harambee—the collective effort to pull together for the betterment of our community. For the Kenyan diaspora living here in the United Kingdom, that spirit does not stop at the border. We remain deeply connected to our families, our friends, and the general welfare of our nation back home. We celebrate the successes of the “Silicon Savannah” and the relentless drive of the Kenyan people. However, being part of a community also means having the courage to speak up when we see a systemic threat to our people’s wellbeing.

Today, that threat is visible on every street corner, from the bustling bus stations of Nairobi to the quietest rural trading centres. It is a crisis sold in a bright, affordable, sixty-shilling tin. We are talking about the unregulated explosion of high-stimulant energy drinks.

The Great Regulatory Divide

One of the most striking realisations for those of us residing in the United Kingdom is the glaring double standard in how these products are managed. In British supermarkets, energy drinks with high caffeine content are treated with a level of caution. You will find clear labels stating they are not recommended for certain groups, and most major retailers have implemented a voluntary ban on sales to anyone under the age of sixteen. There is an ongoing national conversation about the impact of these stimulants on heart health, dental hygiene, and mental stability.

When we look back at Kenya, the contrast is staggering. These same brands—along with a flood of “grey market” imports—are marketed with total abandon. They are positioned as symbols of strength, masculinity, and “Bazuu” (big man) status. They are sold alongside basic necessities like bread and milk, often without a single meaningful health warning.

We have to ask ourselves: why is the health of a Kenyan worker or a Kenyan student seemingly valued less than that of their counterparts in Europe? Why has our country become a dumping ground for chemical cocktails that are being increasingly restricted in the West? This is not just a matter of individual choice; it is a failure of the state to act as a shield for its citizens.

The Mechanics of a Health Debt

To understand the scale of the problem, we must look at what is actually inside these cans. Most people consume them because they feel tired, overworked, and under-pressed for time. In a twenty-four-hour economy where the “hustle” is glorified, these drinks are sold as a shortcut to productivity. But there is no such thing as free energy. You are not “gaining” power; you are borrowing it from your future health, and the interest rates are extortionate.

1. The Cardiovascular Strain The primary ingredients in these drinks are caffeine, taurine, and various synthetic stimulants. While a cup of coffee provides a steady lift, these drinks deliver a violent spike. Doctors across Kenya are reporting a terrifying rise in “Young Hypertension.” We are seeing men and women in their twenties and thirties—the most productive members of our society—presenting with the heart health profiles of sixty-year-olds. Their hearts are being forced to beat at an unnatural pace while they are physically stationary, leading to palpitations, arterial stiffness, and, in extreme cases, sudden cardiac events.

2. The Sugar Bomb A typical five-hundred-millilitre energy drink contains upwards of fifteen teaspoons of sugar. To put that in perspective, that is more than the recommended daily limit for an adult in one sitting. In a nation where the prevalence of Type 2 Diabetes is already on the rise, we are effectively drinking ourselves into a metabolic crisis. This is a burden that our overstretched public health system and our family pockets simply cannot afford to carry.

3. The Psychological Toll and Dependency The “high” provided by these stimulants is inevitably followed by a “crash.” This leaves the consumer feeling more exhausted, irritable, and anxious than they were before they opened the can. This creates a cycle of dependency. A boda boda rider feels he needs a second can to get through the afternoon shift; a night-shift guard needs a third can to stay awake until dawn. This is not “energy”—it is a chemical leash that keeps our people tethered to a product that is slowly draining their vitality.

The Social Metaphor: A Nation on a Caffeine High

At KESHO-UK, we believe this issue is a metaphor for the current state of the Kenyan economy. We have a society that is working harder than ever, yet often struggling to make ends meet. Instead of addressing the root causes of exhaustion—such as the need for better wages, more humane working hours, and improved public transport—the market provides a cheap, chemical “fix.”

It is much easier for a company to sell a sixty-shilling stimulant than it is for a society to ensure its workers are well-rested and properly nourished. These drinks act as a mask for the physical and mental fatigue of a nation. We are essentially using chemicals to keep the machine running, ignoring the fact that the machine is breaking down.

A Call for Community Responsibility

Self-help is the cornerstone of our organisation. But self-help begins with self-preservation. We cannot build a prosperous community on a foundation of poor health. As the Kenyan diaspora, we have a unique and powerful voice. We have the advantage of seeing the global picture, and we have the resources to advocate for change.

We are calling for a three-pronged approach to tackle this crisis:

First: Robust Regulation The Kenya Bureau of Standards (KEBS) and the Ministry of Health must step up. We need more than just fine-print ingredients lists. We need front-of-pack warning labels that are impossible to miss. If a drink contains enough caffeine to cause heart palpitations, the consumer has a right to know that in clear, bold language before they hand over their money.

Second: Economic Accountability We need to discuss a “Sugar Tax” that actually bites. The revenue from such a tax should be directly funneled into the public health sectors that are currently dealing with the fallout of non-communicable diseases like diabetes and hypertension. Furthermore, we must ban the sale of these high-stimulant drinks to minors. Protecting the next generation from a lifetime of heart issues is a non-negotiable duty of the state.

Third: A Cultural Shift We need to reclaim the definition of “strength.” Being a “Bazuu” or a successful “Hustler” should not be synonymous with consuming a chemical cocktail that leaves you jittery and unwell. Real strength is found in a healthy body, a sharp mind, and a sustainable lifestyle. We need to encourage our people to return to natural sources of energy—proper hydration, nutritious food, and, most importantly, the right to rest.

The Role of KESHO-UK

As an organisation based in the United Kingdom, we are committed to being a bridge of information. We will continue to monitor how these global companies operate and highlight the discrepancies in how they treat Kenyan consumers versus British ones. We will use our platforms to educate our members so that when they call home, they can have informed conversations with their loved ones.

We encourage every member of the Kenyan community here to speak to their brothers, sisters, and cousins back home. Ask them how many of these cans they are consuming. Tell them about the risks we see being debated here in the United Kingdom. Knowledge is the first step toward freedom from dependency.

Conclusion: Our Future is Not for Sale

Kenya is a nation of immense potential, but that potential resides in the health and longevity of its people. We cannot afford to have a generation of workers whose kidneys and hearts fail before they reach their prime. We cannot afford to let multinational corporations profit from the exhaustion of our people while leaving the Kenyan taxpayer to pick up the hospital bill.

The “hustle” is a noble pursuit, but it should not be a death sentence. It is time to wake up to the bitter truth behind the buzz. Let us pull together to demand better standards, better health, and a better future for every Kenyan.

Real energy is not found in a tin. It is found in a fair society, a healthy body, and a clear mind. Let us protect our “Kesho”—our tomorrow—by making the right choices today.

What have you observed during your visits home? Have you noticed a change in the health of those around you who rely on these drinks? Join the KESHO-UK discussion and let us work together to protect our community.

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Immigrant: Finding Spirituality and Self-Love

The Ghost in the Land of Plenty: Reclaiming the Immigrant Soul

In 2006, I boarded a plane with a heart that felt heavy yet electric. I was leaving behind the red dust of my homeland and the marketplace where people knew my name before I even spoke it. I did not arrive in the United Kingdom just as a man; I arrived as a mission. I was a dreamer, yes—but more importantly, I was a lifeline.

Back home, life was a beautiful but brutal struggle. Poverty was not a concept; it was the distance to the clinic and the uncertainty of the rain. When the clouds failed, the village hungered. I came here to break that cycle. For years, every pound sent home was a victory: a cousin’s tuition, a mother’s medicine, a roof that finally stopped leaking. The sacrifice felt easy because the impact was visible. I was the architect of a better future.

But as the decades rolled on, a chilling shadow began to grow. Perhaps you have felt it, too.

The Invisibility of the Elder

There is a silent tragedy in the immigrant journey: psychological erosion. Back home, my grey hair would be a badge of office. I would be an “Elder”—a person of wisdom whose words carry weight in a dispute. But here, on these bustling, transactional streets, I am just another face in the crowd. Another cog in the machine.

We trade our status for our children’s safety. We trade our voices for our families’ bread. It is a noble trade, but it leaves a void. When did we stop being pillars and start feeling like ghosts?

The Changing House: When the Bridge Feels Empty

For years, my identity was anchored in being the “Provider.” I wanted my children to have the “UK life”—the stability I never had.

But a strange thing happens when your children grow up. They move with a cultural fluency we will never fully possess. Their independence, whilst a sign of our success, can feel like a quiet rejection. As they need our guidance less, the silence in the house grows louder.

I realised I had spent so much time being a bridge for others to walk across that I had forgotten how to stand on my own land.

The Toll on Our Well-being

We must be honest: this displacement hurts. We face a unique “Immigrant Depression”—a grief for a life we can no longer live and a struggle to be seen in the one we inhabit.

If we are disconnected and purposeless, we cannot lead our children. They live between two worlds, feeling the weight of our sacrifices whilst navigating a society that does not always value their heritage. If we want them to be whole, we must be whole first.

The Path Home: Spirituality and Self-Love

So, how do we stop being ghosts? We must return to the interior. When the world refuses to see us, we must see ourselves.

  • Spirituality as Sanctuary: Whether through prayer, meditation, or quiet reflection, we must reconnect with the truth that our value transcends our bank accounts. You are part of a divine tapestry. Your existence has weight that no border can diminish.

  • The Radical Act of Self-Love: For us, self-love feels like a betrayal of our duty to sacrifice. But to survive this next phase, we must honour our own journey. Not just for what we gave, but for the sheer resilience it took to survive.

Our New Village

The other evening, watching the rain blur the London skyline, the old bitterness rose up. I felt unrecognized. Unvalued.

But then I looked at my children, and I thought of the families back home whose lives are different because I took that flight. My “Elderhood” did not vanish; it transformed. I am an Elder of the In-Between.

Communities like Kesho-UK are the “New Villages” we must build. We cannot wait for society to grant us significance; we must grant it to one another.

  • Look at the man sitting next to you in the community meeting—see the hero he is.

  • Look at the mother who worked three cleaning jobs—see the queen she is.

The next phase of our journey is not about sending money back home; it is about bringing our souls home to ourselves. I am no longer the man who left in 2006. I am a bridge that learned to be a mountain. I am standing tall in my own worth, and I am inviting you to stand with me. Together, we are not invisible. We are the foundation of the future.

Join the Conversation

  • Do you ever feel “invisible” in your daily life, and how do you navigate that feeling?

  • What does “Self-Love” look like for someone who has spent their life sacrificing for others?

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KESHO-UK our tomorrow dreams

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KESHO-UK AGM

This is a significant moment for Kesho-UK. The transition from a community group to a registered Charitable Incorporated Organisation (CIO) is more than just a legal hurdle; it is the act of building a permanent home for the community’s spirit.

As a social writer and mobiliser, I have expanded your AGM notes into a cohesive, soul-stirring article. It maintains the “Elder” voice from your previous piece—wise, grounded, and calling for collective action.

From Tragedy to Transformation: Reflections on the 2024 AGM

We gathered for our 2024 Annual General Meeting with hearts full of gratitude. We thank God for keeping us safe and for blessing us with the gift of health, allowing us to stand together for another year.

However, we did not gather without a sense of loss. We took a solemn moment to remember our brother, George Obel, who transitioned to heaven last year. Many of us had the honour of attending his send-off, and his absence remains a quiet ache in our collective heart. We also look across the oceans to our motherland, Kenya. Our hearts bleed with those who lost loved ones in the recent clamour for change and transformation. We stand in solidarity with those mourning; their struggle for a better society is our struggle, too.

Our Story: A House Built on Resilience

Kesho-UK was born in 2016 out of a tragedy that befell our community. We did not choose to start in grief, but we chose not to stay there. Since that time, we have risen from strength to strength. Yet, as the saying goes, we cannot rest on our laurels. To honour those we have lost, we must be better. Indeed, we will be better.

Building on Solid Ground: The Path to Charity Status

Since our last meeting, the leadership has worked tirelessly on a new constitution. This is not merely a document of rules; it is the blueprint for our future. It meets every requirement of the Charity Commission, and we are now making a renewed attempt to register Kesho-UK as a Charitable Incorporated Organisation (CIO).

But a house is not made of bricks alone; it is made of people. To achieve this milestone, we need members to step forward and volunteer as Trustees. We need your vision, your integrity, and your time. This is an invitation to transition from being a member to being a guardian of our community’s legacy.

Opening the Doors: A Call for Growth

We must be honest about our challenges. We have faced difficulties in registering new members, partly due to the changes made during our last AGM. Whilst those changes were made with good intentions, we must now ask ourselves: Are we making it too difficult for our brothers and sisters to join us?

A village that does not grow eventually fades. I call upon every member to review these changes. We must facilitate ease of recruitment and ensure that the “threshold” to join Kesho-UK is welcoming, not a barrier. We need the energy of the youth and the wisdom of the new arrivals to keep our mission alive.

Investing in our Future

Finally, we must face a new reality. To serve our community effectively, we must grow our revenues. In this AGM, we are addressing a vital question: How do we invest our limited resources to create sustainable growth? We are moving away from a model of mere survival towards a model of investment. We want to ensure that Kesho-UK has the financial strength to support our children, our elders, and our projects back home for decades to come.

The New Village Awaits

The journey of the immigrant is often one of individual survival, but the journey of Kesho-UK is one of collective thrive. We are no longer just a group of people who share a homeland; we are a formalised force for good in the United Kingdom.

I invite you to look at the person sitting next to you. They are your co-architect. Together, we are building a “New Village” that is transparent, financially robust, and deeply rooted in love.

Let Us Take the Next Step Together

  • Would you consider stepping into a leadership role as a Trustee? Your community needs your expertise.

  • How can we make our recruitment process more inclusive while maintaining our core values?

Please share your thoughts below or reach out to the leadership team directly. Let us build a Kesho-UK that our children will be proud to inherit.