Ian's Blog

Many Christians today are being led into spiritual and financial oblivion by pastors who preach miracles they themselves do not live by. It has become common to see believers flocking to churches in desperation, hoping for supernatural interventions that will fix financial struggles, heal brokenness, or reverse poor decisions overnight. But beneath the loud prayers and dramatic testimonies lies a heartbreaking reality: many of the miracles being advertised are traps designed to exploit the vulnerable. The saddest part is that the exploitation is wrapped so neatly in scripture that people no longer see it as manipulation—they see it as faith. Think about how most of these situations begin. People take loans with genuine hope — not greed, not foolishness, but real hope. Some borrow to start a business they believe in, others to expand a small project or pay school fees for their children. Many are simply trying to navigate a difficult moment in life or escape the sinking sand of poverty...

In Kenya, people can lie — not always out of malice, but often out of survival. Broken systems force citizens to bend rules just to live a normal life. Poverty robs you of dignity until small lies feel like necessary tools for navigating daily obstacles. You grow up thinking it’s normal to “know someone,” to “add something small,” to “talk nicely” so things move. It becomes part of the culture, not because Kenyans are bad people, but because the environment forces you into habits you wouldn’t need in a functional system. Nothing prepares you for the shock of visiting a country where the systems actually serve the people. Where the government feels like a service provider, not a predator. Where public transport comes on time. Where public spaces are clean. Where food is safe. Where tap water is drinkable. Where everything just… flows. You suddenly see what life looks like for people who don’t carry the weight of broken systems on their shoulders. People who don’t wake up stresse...

Now I understand why older people are calmer… after you’ve died enough times inside, you learn to breathe, let go, and simply be. At first glance, it may sound poetic, even philosophical. But there is raw truth in it. Age is not what calms people, experience is. Life is not gentle. Loss, heartbreak, failure, and betrayal teach lessons you cannot learn from books. These experiences shape patience, perspective, and, ultimately, the ability to simply be. The Quiet Deaths Inside Every person dies inside, many times, before they reach a point of inner calm. These are not literal deaths, of course. They are emotional collapses, spiritual defeats, moments when life strips away illusions. A relationship ends. A dream crumbles. A betrayal pierces trust. A loved one departs. Each time, a piece of hope or naivety dies. When you are young, each loss feels catastrophic. A breakup can feel like the end of the world. A failure feels like permanent rejection. A disappointment is unbearable. We cry...

There is a truth many people avoid, not because it is wrong, but because it is uncomfortable: money makes you a better friend, a better partner, a more present parent, and a more reliable sibling. Not morally better, not spiritually superior — simply more available , more capable , and more emotionally generous . Society often hides behind comforting clichés like “money doesn’t matter” or “love is enough,” but anyone who has lived in the real world understands that love cannot thrive where survival is constantly under threat. Emotional stability needs financial stability beneath it. When people have money, they show up differently. They pick up calls instead of silencing them. They attend birthdays, weddings, funerals, and emergencies without calculating the cost of transport. They give without shame. They comfort without being weighed down by their own crises. A friend with money can be present — physically, emotionally, and psychologically. They can support without breaking themselv...

Have you ever noticed this universal human problem? Every single person on the planet genuinely believes they are a good person. Even that guy who cuts in line, that auntie who tells small lies, or your friend who swears they’ll help but ghosts you the moment it’s inconvenient—they all think they’re moral, upright, and selfless. It’s wild because we all have this built-in moral inflation feature. Your brain automatically overestimates your goodness and underestimates your selfishness. You overlap? “Ah, I had to, traffic was heavy.” You lie about small stuff? “It was for their own good.” You skip helping a friend? “I have my priorities.” Come on, really? That’s your “good person” logic? 😂 Even everyday situations are full of this delusion. People complain about corruption in the government while quietly pocketing change or bending rules at work. They rage about others being lazy but secretly procrastinate like champions. Everyone is “good,” until the definition of “good” is tested—an...

If there is one undeniable truth about Kenya, it is this: people rarely take care of what isn’t theirs. Cars, rental houses, borrowed electronics, even public infrastructure—whatever doesn’t bear your name is treated like disposable property. This is not a small problem. It is a symptom of a deeper cultural decay, a reflection of a society where accountability is optional and respect is conditional. Take the car hire business, for example. Imagine buying a clean, well-maintained Atenza Wagon 2.2D. It is spotless, running perfectly, a symbol of your hard work and investment. You trust that clients will return it in the same condition. Yet week after week, the car comes back scratched, dented, sometimes running low on fuel, or worse—driven recklessly like it belongs to them. And it isn’t just an isolated incident; this is the reality for car hire businesses across Kenya. Vehicles are treated as disposable commodities, and every scratch or dent becomes an expected cost of doing business....

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 ...