I grew up in a remote village in the western part of Kenya. As the firstborn son in my family, I carried many responsibilities from a young age. My parents were middle-class peasant farmers, and we depended entirely on farming for our survival. Being the firstborn, I had to take care of my younger siblings. As they often say, firstborns are like second parents—and from my experience, that is very true.

Growing up with such responsibilities taught me a lot. I learned how to lead by example, to sacrifice, and to embrace hard work and dedication. I had to step up because my parents were always busy working on the farm.

Despite these challenges, I still attended the local village school, where I acquired my basic education from lower primary all the way to Form Four. However, life became more difficult when my parents separated while I was in Class 8. From that point on, we remained with our father, and the responsibilities increased even more. We had to work extra hard to support ourselves.

Due to the weight of these responsibilities, I did not perform well in my Form Four exams. However, I did not give up. After completing secondary school, I joined the National Youth Service (NYS), which later sponsored me to pursue a certificate course in Electrical Engineering. I successfully completed my training.

Although I did not secure a job afterward, I chose to return to farming—the same activity that had always sustained my family. I believed it would continue to provide for us, and it has remained a reliable source of survival.

Today, I am grateful for the little I have. I have learned that life is a journey that requires resilience, hard work, dedication, and self-discipline.

With love and gratitude,
Your future self,
Shadron Kibet

My Dear Younger Self,

This is a story of pain, survival, resilience, and hope. A story that reminds every young man and woman that difficult beginnings do not mean a hopeless future.

Raised by a single mother in Kangemi, life was marked by hardship from the very beginning. Survival depended on casual jobs, long days, and constant sacrifice to provide for four children.

Education became difficult to sustain, and after a road accident in Kangemi, schooling came to an early end at Class 6. What should have been the season of learning turned into a season of struggle.

While others moved forward, life seemed to stand still. Dreams felt delayed, opportunities felt distant, and the future looked uncertain.

But difficult beginnings do not decide final outcomes.

In 2014, during a funeral wake in the neighbourhood, an opportunity to help came through delivering death announcements to churches within the community. It was a small task, done out of goodwill and service.

The work was done with seriousness, discipline, and reliability. Messages were delivered on time, and trust began to grow within the community.

Most of the work was voluntary. Sometimes a small token of appreciation was given, but many times nothing was received.

Still, consistency continued.

With time, people began to recognize dependability and commitment. Then one person offered simple but life-changing advice: start charging for the service.

That small advice became the beginning of change.

What looked like a minor task became an income source. What looked like wasted years became preparation. What looked like hardship became training for responsibility and resilience.

Lesson

Never despise humble beginnings.

Never assume delay means denial.

Never believe struggle means the end.

Character built in hard seasons often creates success in later seasons.

One day, the pain of today can become the hope of someone else tomorrow.

With love, pride and gratitude,
Your future self,
James Mburu Wambui

Dear Younger Me,

I remember it like it was yesterday. Just after high school, at barely 18 years old, life handed me responsibilities bigger than I could imagine. My father entrusted me with his secondary school, expecting me to run it like a professional. I had no experience, no resources, only determination and a heart full of dreams.

In January, my dad gave me a crash course. He showed me the ropes of marketing, reception, teaching, managing staff, and handling students. Then, just a week later, he left for work elsewhere, leaving me in full control. I was alone at the helm, a teenager managing a whole school.

But life had lessons ready for me. The teacher I trusted in the office? Turned out he had other plans. He lured students away to another school for personal gain. Even the relative my dad had left in charge the previous year had done the same. January began with an empty school and a lot of work ahead. Parents came with inquiries, only to be misled. By February, most students had gone elsewhere. It hurt, but I learned quickly: you must stand firm, trust cautiously, and act decisively. My dad helped me remove that teacher, and slowly, we began rebuilding.

We started with only 18 students in Forms 1–4. I had barely any clothes to wear. I owned just one or two pairs of shoes and lived in humble conditions. But my father reminded me, “Don’t let your problems show.” Those words became my armor. Every role fell on me—I was teacher, principal, receptionist, cook, security, manager—all at once. I taught two subjects across all forms. I also did home schooling for a pregnant girl. Additionally, I worked tirelessly to keep the school running.

Marketing became my second life. From April to December, we knocked on doors, went to churches, villages, and towns, spreading the word about our school. Slowly, students returned. By January the next year, we had 50 students. The following years, 100, 150, 200, and eventually 250 students. Growth brought more classrooms, dorms, and even boarding facilities. Maasai families came with full trust. They paid fees for the year upfront. This allowed us to invest in the school—labs, libraries, halls, and eventually electricity.

Discipline, order, and excellence became non-negotiable. Classes were punctual, dorms and classrooms clean, staff accountable. Trips were carefully organized, always with the students’ growth and experience in mind—whether to theaters, children’s homes, or educational excursions. My heart was always in their development.

I even had the honor of attending high-profile meetings with DEO, DO, KNEC, and other officials. I was always the youngest principal in the room, but I earned respect through diligence and integrity.

Saturday boiled eggs and Sunday matumbo became school traditions. Prize-giving days were events I poured my heart into, celebrating students, teachers, and staff alike. Our students shone on GBS TV programs, proudly showcasing the fruits of our labor.

Eventually, the day came when I felt my mission was complete. I left the school, knowing I had transformed it from near-empty classrooms to a thriving institution. My father begged me to stay, but I knew it was time to carve my own path. That was how Kerry Designs Africa was born—out of vision, discipline, hard work, and faith.

Dear Younger Me, remember this: challenges are opportunities in disguise. Responsibility shapes character. Faith combined with effort always brings results. No matter how heavy the burden, your courage, creativity, and perseverance will carry you farther than you imagine.

With love and gratitude,
Your future self,
Sarah K. John