I was raised in a small village called Kimbimbi, in an iron sheet house so tiny, even our dreams had to squeeze themselves into corners. It was split into two, one half for our family, the other for another. My sister and I slept in the kitchen, which also doubled as the bathroom. Privacy? Luxury. We bathed where we boiled water for tea. Life wasn’t just hard, it was embarrassingly hard.
I grew up thinking that’s all life had to offer: poverty on repeat. But my parents, God bless their hustle, believed otherwise. Against all odds, they moved us into a stone-walled house when I was 13. For the first time, I had my own room. My own door! That house didn't just upgrade our living conditions, it upgraded my mindset. Suddenly, I believed I could be more.

I always wanted to be cabin crew—flying the skies, serving coffee at 30,000 feet, but apparently, the airline industry doesn’t appreciate petite queens like me. And just when I was figuring out Plan B, life hit like a rogue matatu. My dad was kidnapped in 2010 while I was in Form Four. But before that, things at home had already spiraled, he’d tried to kill my mom, and we had to run, leaving behind the home they had fought so hard to build. We moved into a single room, again. That’s when I knew: I had to grow up fast. I took a short course to finish school quickly and spare my mom the burden of paying university fees. I told myself: get a job, help raise my sisters, and just survive. What I didn’t know was that “getting a job” would take five years. I hawked, I tried business (a.k.a. I failed at business), and eventually landed a role as a beauty advisor in Nakumatt. Selling makeup. With a diploma in airport operations. The salary? Let’s just say my mom was still sending me pocket money. Then one day, everything changed. I got hired by Qatar Airways.

It felt like life was finally giving me a hug. I worked there for three years, travelled, saved, helped my family. But in 2021, I left to chase the entrepreneurial dream. I opened a nail bar. Then I got pregnant. Then I was put on bedrest. Then I closed shop. Plot twist? I was broke, jobless, and now had a baby to care for.2022 was a blur. In 2023, we were almost homeless. We couldn’t afford rent. We rationed meals. My baby’s diapers? T-shirts. We had to choose between buying milk or buying bread, sometimes, neither. That year humbled me in ways I cannot describe.But then, slowly, God showed up. We got jobs. We rebuilt. The lights came back on, literally and figuratively.

Now, I help others find jobs. Not because I have connections (I don’t). Not because I’m hiring (I’m not). But because I know what it feels like to have nothing. And I want to walk with people through that dark tunnel until they find their light. I may not hand you the job, but I’ll help you craft your CV, prep for the interview, and remind you that you’re not alone.Because if someone from Kimbimbi, who once bathed in a kitchen, can make it so can you.