Your background need not determine your future

Your background and the environment you grew up in either impacts your life positively, or negatively, and could determine your future.

But only if you allow it to. From the experiences of many, a humble upbringing, absence of one parent or lack of education does not mean that your future is doomed.

Whatever your story is, we hope that you will be inspired by these stories of courage, willpower, and determination to rise above misfortune.

Daudi Rwanko
Student, East Africa School of Theology

“My father’s alcohol abuse drove me to drug addiction.”

In Kawangware, Nairobi, where I grew up, my dad was well-known in the neighbourhood, due to his drinking. He seemed to drink day and night, and when he did, he would become quarrelsome and at sometimes, violent. As a result, we rarely had peace at home.

My father was an artist, good at handicrafts, but most of the money he made went to alcohol. I remember this one time when he went to the shop to buy breakfast only to return at noon, drunk, having spent the breakfast money on alcohol. As you can imagine, raising school fees for my two siblings and I was quite a struggle, and often, we would be sent home for lack of school fees.

To supplement my father’s income, my mother did menial jobs such as washing clothes for a fee, but even this was not enough because once in a while, we slept hungry and woke up to nothing.

My siblings often told each other that we would never take alcohol, having seen how it affected our family. Even though I never admitted this to anyone, though I detested his drinking habit, I admired how the alcohol would embolden my father and leave him stress-free.

In 1996, I was in Standard Six, I dropped out of school since my parents could no longer afford my school fees. Life became intolerable at home, so much so, that I ran away and went to live in the streets. My alcohol and drug addiction started with a sniff of glue, followed by a glass of chang’aa. Within two years, I had turned to hardcore drugs such as heroin. I had become worse than my father.

In my sober moments, I would wondered whether dad had quit alcohol and if anyone had bothered to look for me. I returned home after two years, but returned to the streets two years later because I no longer fit in a home environment. Being an addict, I would steal, including from my family, to support my habit.

In fact, one day I was almost burned alive after a woman I had robbed recognised me and raised alarm. Fearing for my life, I returned to the streets in 2004, where I lived for about 10 years until I met an old friend, a reformed drug addict who introduced me to Teen Challenge Kenya Rehabilitation Centre.

We used to abuse drugs together, and I was amazed at how much he had changed. I joined the program in September 2015 and graduated in 2016. Within that period, I lost both my parents.

Sometimes, I wish my childhood was different because I would have made better choices. When I look back however, I am happy with who I am today because I no longer take drugs or abuse alcohol, instead, I help those who were once like me to kick addiction.

I also have a job; I am a messenger at Maisha Poa Center in Kawangware, a community based organisation that rehabilitates street children. From experience, I believe most street children are not on the streets by choice, rather, are running away from the hardship at home.

Billian Ojiwa, 30, project management student
Youth Chairman, Kenya African National Union (KANU) & Founder ,“Ficha Uchi” Campaign

“The death of my parents prompted me to help needy children.”

I lost my dad a term after I had joined secondary school, barely a year later, in March 2003, my mother died too. That was the turning point in my life. The death of my parents was a heavy burden to bear for me and my three siblings since we were young and therefore still dependent.

I was 14 years. My paternal grandmother, who took us in, couldn’t afford to pay my school fees, forcing me to stay home for a term as she struggled to raise the money required. She really valued education, and saved up part of what she earned from her charcoal business to return me to school.

She would later reveal to me that before my father died, he had pleaded with her to ensure that I completed my secondary school education, a plea she had promised to fulfil.

By the time I joined Form Three, I was so used to being sent home for school fees, it no longer worried me – I would simply stay home for a few days and then return to school with an empty promise, “My school fees will be paid soon”. The principal sympathised with my situation and allowed me to continue attending classes on the promise that the school fees would be paid.

I almost did not sit for my Kenya Certificate of Secondary Education since my grandmother couldn’t raise the registration fees. Desperate, she reached out to Professor Peter Wanyande, (he teaches at the University of Nairobi), who was reputed to value education, and came from a nearby village. He is the one that paid my registration fees.

After completing secondary school, I relocated to Nairobi, and moved in with an aunt in Mathare to help her run her restaurant. Often, I would take up jobs such as selling airtime. Within two years, I had managed to save enough to clear the Sh15, 000 arrears that I owed my former high school.

In 2008, I joined a youth group that taught children in the slums skills such as dancing. I am a good rapper, and during the weekends, I would teach these children how to rap. In 2010, I registered Billian Music Family, which helps children talented in music to record and sell their music.

That same year, my foundation began to support needy children in Mathare through school. Through the help of well-wishers, we are currently supporting 35 kids – eight are in high school. One of the students that benefited from the program was the best 2016 KCSE candidate in Mathare Constituency.

I believe that the death of my parents shaped the person I am today. Their deaths taught me the need to value family, close or distant. Another important lesson that I learnt is that we shouldn’t focus too much on the needs of our immediate family that we forget about those living around us.

In 2013, a parent asked me to help her buy school uniform for her daughter. When I visited her daughter’s school, I realised that many other pupils here could not afford school uniform - this was the inspiration behind “Ficha Uchi” campaign.

Through well-wishers and tailors in the communities we assist, we have managed to provide school uniforms to pupils in more than 30 schools in Nairobi.

Vivian Maina, 24
Marketing manager: Events wristbands Limited

“My parents love and unwavering support towards each other taught me what marriage should be like.”

True love. That’s the only way I can describe what my parents have had for each other since they got married 25 years ago. When I was four years old, back in 1998, my father was diagnosed with spinal cord tumour that left both of his legs paralysed and had him spend a year bedridden in the hospital. My mother would spend one day at home with us then spend the next two in hospital taking care of him having left us with a caregiver. My dad says that the empathic presence of my mother made him feel better.

Back at home, mum ensured that the shop they ran together was still up and running, while dad coordinated the matatu business from his hospital bed. They had made a pact that they would offer us a good life, and they were determined to do it.

When dad was finally released from hospital, he was wheelchair-bound, but he still continued to help mum at the shop, where they sold rice. During the rice harvesting season, he would hire a driver cum helper, who would traverse the country selling rice as mum attended to customers at the shop.

Growing up, we thought that parents don’t argue because we never heard them argue or disagree. We only learnt much later, from dad, that they do argue and disagree, but respect each other not to do it in our presence. Being raised in such a loving environment has impacted my life in several ways. I recently got married, and the lessons that I drew from my childhood play an important role in my marriage. My parents’ relationship taught me about sacrifice.

As the first born child, I put my brother’s interests first and I have replicated the same in my marriage. Another important lesson that I draw from my upbringing is not giving up on the people that I love. My mother had the option of leaving dad when he lost use of his legs but she didn’t.

As for dad, he could have given up on his life before the diagnosis and withdrawn into a shell but he didn’t – he kept on living, kept on being a husband and a father. For the last 20 years that dad has been on a wheelchair, he has continued to play his various roles diligently.

Watching them work so effortlessly as business partners enables me to do the same with my husband, who is my partner at our company, Events Wristbands. We manufacture promotional wristbands as well as those used by patients in hospitals. We also brand events.

Gabo Ralia, 23 years
Motivational speaker

“Growing up poor made me assertive and persistent in the quest to achieve my dreams and goals.”

I was raised up by my mother at the heart of Korogocho Slums in Nairobi. She was hardworking - she would wake up very early in the morning to go to the nearby market, Kiamaiko, to broker goats. By midday, she would have returned home and opened her grocery kiosk.

Despite the effort she made, she did not make enough for us to lead a comfortable life. Sometimes she could not afford to offer us three meals a day. As for school, I went through seven primary schools before I sat for my Kenya Certificate of Primary Education exams in 2007 – when I was sent home due to accumulated school fees arrears, she would enroll me in another school.

When I completed primary school, I was certain that as much as I wanted to join secondary school, my mother could not afford the school fees, so I told her that I wanted to start working. She immediately said no, explaining that it was her responsibility to provide for us.

I eventually managed to talk her into it. It was not easy to find work, bearing in mind that I was minor, but I did. I starting with branding items such as water bottles, and later on, learnt how to bake birthday cakes and cookies.

Within two years, I had managed to save Sh30, 000, which I used as capital to set up a stall that sold second hand clothes. My breakthrough came when a friend referred me to a community based organisation called Child Peace in Kenya. When they learnt about my situation at home and my interest in going back to school, they contacted Be kids Australia, an organisation that helps needy children, and they sponsored my secondary school education. I gladly left the business to my mother so that I could concentrate on my studies.

Growing up poor made me assertive and persistent in the quest to achieve my dreams and goals. Before I joined secondary school, two suitors visited home to ask for my hand in marriage but I refused because I wanted to achieve more. In my Borana community, girls are considered ready for marriage as soon they hit adolescence.

The fact that I was able to run a business at such a young age - I was 14, told me what I was capable of. People often remark that I am generous, a quality that I attribute to my childhood experience. When you have little, and live amongst people that have little, you learn to share.

Currently, I work as a motivational speaker with organisations such as Child Peace in Kenya. Part of what we do involves visiting schools in the slums and encouraging pupils to work hard and draw positive lessons from their varied experiences, whatever their background.

Robert Wanyinyi, 30 years

“The absence of my parents in my life made me mindful of how I treat others.”

“I was raised by grandmother. Once in a while, we would have a visitor, and my grandmother would introduce her as my mother. There was never any mention of my father. While in lower primary, I would sometimes visit my mother in Nairobi during the holidays, but we didn’t quite get along.

There are times when a year would go by without seeing or hearing from her, so I got used to her absence, though at the time, I had no idea that her absence and erratic appearances, which she often made when there was a family get-together, was affecting me psychologically.

I became defensive at a very young age especially because I had to keep responding to the “when is your mum coming home and where is your dad” questions from other children. Each time I went to study with our neighbour’s child, a classmate, I couldn’t help but admire his family. I admired the attention, love and care he received from his parents, even though my grandmother was very supportive and caring and really tried to close the parental gap I felt.

When I joined secondary school in 2003, I moved in with my uncle and his family – he paid my school fees through secondary school and university – I studied law at Kenyatta University. His family would visit me during school visiting days and showered me with love, but I still yearned for parental love.

Growing up without my parents made me reserved. I especially don’t like talking about family because I feel that I don’t have much to contribute to on that front. I am also quite cautious when it comes to relationships because I am fearful of the same thing that happened to me repeating itself. I am not dating.

My experience has had a positive impact too – my parents’ absence moulded me to become a responsible person. I don’t commit to what I cannot deliver, be it work-related or not. I am also very mindful of how I treat those around me because I wouldn’t want to hurt them. I have also since built a relationship with my mother, which I hope will become better with time.