Ian's Blog

In Kenya, the word “rape” carries immense weight, and rightly so. It is a violent crime that leaves scars on victims—physical, emotional, and psychological—that can last a lifetime. Society has rightly prioritized the protection of survivors, awareness campaigns have increased, and laws have strengthened. Yet, while our attention is rightly focused on victims, there is a parallel crisis that is largely ignored: the men who are falsely accused of rape. False accusations are not rare in Kenya. They happen more often than most are willing to admit, and their consequences are devastating. For every man wrongfully accused, there is a life upended: reputations destroyed, careers halted, families torn apart, and mental health shattered. In a country where social perception can be as punishing as the law itself, even an unproven accusation can act as a life sentence. Across the country, numerous cases emerge each year where men are accused of sexual assault, only for investigations to later ...

Our generation stands at a crossroads. We talk about empowerment, corruption, justice, and leadership every day—but how many of us actually understand the document that defines all of it? The Constitution of Kenya is not just a legal manual for lawyers and politicians. It is the social contract that binds every citizen, defines every right, and limits every power. Yet, for most Kenyans, the Constitution is a distant concept—something mentioned during elections or court cases, but rarely discussed at home, in class, or in daily life. That must change. If You Can Teach Religion, You Can Teach the Law From primary school, Kenyan children are taught religion—values, morals, and the importance of doing right by God and others. That’s good. But if we can teach the laws of heaven, why can’t we also teach the laws of our land? Religion shapes conscience, but the Constitution shapes conduct. It governs how we coexist, how we’re represented, and how we hold leaders accountable. The Constitu...

Across the world, conversations about equality and justice have grown louder and rightfully so. For generations, women and marginalized groups have fought to be heard, respected, and protected. Yet as one side of humanity found its voice, another slowly began to lose its own. Masculinity today sits at a confusing crossroads: misunderstood by society, distorted by stereotypes, and increasingly associated with danger rather than dignity. Many men feel trapped between two extremes, expected to be strong and stoic, yet condemned when that strength is misunderstood or misused. A recent story from Morogoro, Tanzania, illustrates this painful tension. A man was reportedly beaten by his wife and her sister after returning home empty-handed. He didn’t retaliate, not because he lacked strength, but because he knew self-defense might turn him from victim to villain. In that moment, his restraint became his punishment. It’s easy to dismiss that story as an isolated incident. It isn’t. It repres...

We live in an era obsessed with self-improvement. Everyone is “working on themselves,” or so they say. You can’t scroll through social media without seeing transformation videos, gym check-ins, morning routines, and new diet fads. People are sculpting, toning, trimming, whitening, exfoliating, fasting, meditating, detoxing—and documenting every second of it. It’s inspiring in a way. There’s something admirable about wanting to become a better version of yourself. But somewhere between the gym mirrors and motivational quotes, the meaning of self-improvement got distorted. We started equating improvement with appearance , growth with aesthetic , and discipline with performance . We’re polishing the surface while letting the core decay. The Cult of the Visible Self Today’s world rewards what can be seen. We chase after what’s Instagrammable, what gets engagement, what “looks like growth.” Being fit, fashionable, or well-groomed isn’t just personal anymore, it’s social currency. The...

  The Politics of Performance In modern Kenya, politics has become theater. Every announcement is a performance — from the flashy “flagging off” ceremonies to ribbon cuttings for projects that barely exist. And nothing embodies this better than the promise to “end slums.” “Ending slums” sounds noble, visionary, even biblical. It’s the kind of rhetoric that makes leaders look compassionate and reformist before the international stage. But slogans don’t build homes. And speeches don’t end poverty. You cannot end slums by moving people. You end slums by ending the conditions that create them. In Kenya, millions live in informal settlements because the formal economy doesn’t work for them. Their wages cannot sustain rent, food, and transport — and yet, every few months, the government announces a new “affordable housing” project that somehow never gets affordable enough for the people it claims to serve. So when President William Ruto stood before microphones and said, “Singapore...

Trevor Noah once said he asked Bernie Sanders what message he had for young people who feel angry, lost, or let down by the system. Bernie’s reply was simple but profound: “It’s okay to be angry — just make sure you know who you’re angry at. Don’t isolate yourself. We need each other.” That statement carries the kind of truth that our generation desperately needs to hear. Because if there’s one emotion that defines being young in Africa today, it’s anger — not the petty, aimless kind, but the deep, pulsing anger that comes from watching the same cycles of betrayal play out over and over again. We are angry because we are educated but unemployed. Angry because the rich steal openly while the poor are told to tighten belts they no longer even have. Angry because our parents were promised freedom, and we inherited debt. Angry because in countries like Kenya and Tanzania, the price of dissent is blood. But Bernie was right — anger alone is not the revolution. Strategy is. The Right Kin...

We live in an era where everyone seems to have an opinion about how others should live — what they should eat, who they should love, how they should spend, think, pray, or even heal. It’s exhausting. Somewhere along the way, we forgot that life is not a single script to be memorized and performed in unison. It’s an improvisation — a messy, unpredictable, deeply personal journey. What works for one person may not work for another. And that’s okay. We’ve become addicted to prescription living — convinced that our path is the universal blueprint for happiness. The fitness guru who believes you’re failing at life if you don’t rise at 4 a.m. The entrepreneur who insists that employment is modern slavery. The minimalist who mocks those who find joy in abundance. The single person who thinks marriage is bondage, and the married one who pities the single life. Everyone is preaching their gospel of “what’s right,” forgetting that truth is often contextual, and wisdom wears many faces. We need...