it's all possible

it's never easy --- Studies - Oraimutia to Karumo* I started where most big dreams start — a small primary school. *Oraimutia Primary*. The desks were old, the books were shared, but the hunger was mine alone. I was that kid who stayed after class to sweep, not because I was told to, but because I wanted the teacher to remember me. I believed education was a door, and I was going to kick it open. Then came secondary school. And it wasn’t one school. It was *three: Uhuru, Machaku, Amatu*. Life moved me around, and I learned to adapt fast. But *Uhuru Secondary* tested me the most. Every morning at *5:00AM*, I was already up. No alarm. My body knew. I’d walk through a *large forest* while it was still dark. The air was cold. Sometimes I heard animals. Sometimes I walked alone for an hour with only my thoughts and my books wrapped in a plastic bag so the dew wouldn’t ruin them. People told me, "That school is too far. Transfer." I told myself, "The future is even further. So I will walk." After high school, I refused to stop. *Karumo Technical College* — *Tourism and Travel Management*. I chose it because Kenya is beautiful and I wanted to be part of telling that story. I wanted to be the person who welcomes people to our country, not the one watching from outside. I also went to a *Training Institute* because one skill is never enough when you’re building yourself from zero. I studied while tired. I studied while broke. But I studied. Because quitting would mean the forest walk was for nothing. Job and Hustle - Every Shillings Has a Story* Certificates don’t pay rent. Dreams don’t buy food. So I worked. *Masonry* — I carried 50kg bags of cement on my back. My palms got blisters, then calluses. I learned that you can build other people’s houses even when you don’t have your own yet. *Painting* — I turned empty, rough walls into homes with color. I’d stand back and think: "If I can transform a wall, I can transform my life too." *Catering* — I cooked for weddings and funerals. I served people with a smile while my shoes had holes. I learned service. I learned how to be present for people even when I was breaking inside. *Event Planning* — I planned joy for strangers. Decorations, timelines, guests. It taught me organization. It taught me that chaos can become something beautiful with planning. *Agriculture* — I dug, planted, weeded, and waited. Farming taught me the most important lesson: You don’t harvest the same day you plant. You wait. You water. You trust the process. No job was too small. Every hustle was a class. And I graduated from all of them. Home - Growing Up Too Fast* I was still a child when *mom and dad separated*. One day there were two parents under one roof. The next day, there was silence, tension, and questions I was too young to ask. Then came a *stepmum*. And life changed. There was less food. More words that cut. The feeling of being tolerated, not loved. I learned to eat last. I learned to make myself small so I wouldn’t be a "problem". I cried in the bathroom. I prayed at night. But in that pain, I made a vow: _I will not let this house define me. I will build my own table one day, and everyone will be welcome._ That season didn’t destroy me. It sharpened me. It gave me empathy for other people’s silent battles. Now - Tsavo West, Where My Sun Starts to Shine* Today I’m *attached at Tsavo West National Park*. Do you know what that means? The boy/girl who walked through a dangerous forest at 5AM to get to school… now walks through a national park as part of work. The one who carried cement… now carries knowledge about tourism and conservation. The one who served food at events… now welcomes guests to experience the wild beauty of Kenya. *Tsavo West* — red elephants, lava flows, endless savannah, the sound of silence. This is where my sun starts to shine. Every animal I see, every tourist I guide, every sunrise over the Chyulu Hills feels like God saying: "See? The walking was worth it." My course — Tourism and Travel Management — wasn’t random. It was preparation. All those hustles taught me customer care. All that walking taught me endurance. All that pain taught me how to tell a story. The Message - To Anyone Reading This* If you’re in a forest right now — literal or emotional — keep walking. If your home doesn’t feel like home, build yourself anyway. If you’re doing masonry, painting, catering, farming, anything to survive — hold your head high. That’s not shame. That’s strength. I am proof. Proof that separation doesn’t have to mean destruction. Proof that a stepmum’s coldness can’t freeze your future. Proof that 5AM walks through the forest can lead you to 6AM sunrises in a national park. Your struggle is not the end of your story. It’s chapter 2. Chapter 5 is coming. And it looks like Tsavo. *Keep going. Your sun is rising too.* ---