Pius Chepsergon kiprop

Obi ocha.... Per omnia secular seculurum

[Beldin @beldinkaaray]

Kuna kitu inaitwa Taxi Cab theory na inasuggest that men marry whoever is available when they're ready, not necessarily who they love. Ukweli ama uongo?

[Ebun @kenkenlewu]

When my sister wanted to buy land, she informed my parents.

My dad asked, “Is your husband aware?”

She said, “No.”

Dad replied, “Tell him first and get back to me.”

She never did.

Later, my dad found out through my brother and called her husband.

“Are you aware your wife bought land?”

The husband replied:
“No sir. But why would she do that? All the properties I buy are in both our names.”

My sister called my dad angrily:

“Dad, you want to scatter my marriage!”

My Dad answered her:

“You’re the one already scattering it.”

Twelve years later, she still thanks him. She said her friends had been advising her to buy property secretly.

[Pius Chepsergon kiprop @CPiuskiprop]

@SportPesa @KarauriR Guys, Sportpesa has become rogue .Yesterday I won a bet Ksh 3K. Today evening I log in to my account to find everything has vanished .I see multiple casino and live bets which I didn't place. This is my end with You!!!

[` @lisaawrites]

According to Philosophy, the highest form of peace is to have zero desire to be understood, admired, pitied or even known.

[Pius Chepsergon kiprop @CPiuskiprop]

@refugeeonearth3 Bakayoko

[Pius Chepsergon kiprop @CPiuskiprop]

@UTDIMole Bolton

[George T. Diano @georgediano]

Another poverty mentality ni kubeba paper bag Ukienda shopping kwa supermarket ati usave 20 bob... Ni Onyango Tate, hide ID!!🥲

[Ja Leto @_falsi1ke]

Unfortunately, as you get older, you gradually become less interested in new music and keep going back to the old favorite songs you once loved.

[CooperBaggs 💰🍞 @edgaralandough]

I’ve noticed that people who tend to spend money recklessly always have a miraculous way of getting it back.

[Àgbà John Doe @jon_d_doe]

Any man that fought his ways out of the trenches, made a name for himself and became successful, would not give birth to more children than his father had.

End.

[Lawrence Kitema @lawrencekitema]

When a fruit in the bush looks too ripe, do not rush to pick it. First ask why the birds have left it alone.

—African Proverb—

[Pius Chepsergon kiprop @CPiuskiprop]

@LegacySiu Michael Essien

[Joe @jojo__joe]

Kuna jamaa aliwahi nishow ukirudi ushago and you happen to buy your hommies drinks in a Club, usiwahi kunywa na wao. Tell them to order what they want, pay the bill, washow unaeenda washroom alafu uhepe ueende zako.

[Simons @Simon_Ingari]

I just realized something peculiar about cousins:

If you weren't close to them in childhood, there's no chance you will be in adulthood.

[Malvin @ManOfFocus_]

BREAKING NEWS: Neverrrrrrrr... Neverrrrrrrr... Neverrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr look desperate in life. Remain calm during hard times. Understand it's just your time to suffer like every great man before you. You're a man.

[Sunday Victor | Forex Trader 🇹🇿 @sundey_fx]

Ukitokea ghafla umepata pesa nyingi.

-Usiwambie ndugu zako,

-Usiwaambie marafiki zako,

-Usiwaambie majirani zako,

-Usiache kazi haraka haraka,

-Usinunue gari,

-Usibadilishe life style haraka haraka,

Subiri miezi 6 ndio utumie hiyo pesa.

Hautafundishwa hii shuleni.

[Pejuola| HR🗣️ @Pejuola_a]

Nobody tells you this but the first person to train you at a new job has more influence on your career than your actual manager.

[N’wa Mucanyi 🫶🏾 @KhananiShingan1]

Major cheat code in life: ask for big unreasonable things.
The universe will meet you at
the level of ur audacity

[Maryam @hell_line0]

My dad still sends money to my mom randomly even though they broke up 28 years ago. He gave her $300 last Mother’s Day. And so one day I asked him “Why do you still do that after all these years? Because he has rebuilt his life long ago with someone new and I was just really curious about his motive quite honestly. This man answered “ My father always told me, if you ever have a kid with a woman, you owe her for life “.

[XRP Network @xrpnetwork0]

While we were growing up, my father was a man of structure.

If he said he would give us pocket money for two weeks, he would call each of us one by one, place the exact amount in our hands, and remind us to spend wisely. There was order. There was discipline. There was love in the routine.

Then one day, something changed.

Without announcement.
Without explanation.

He started giving us more than the usual amount. We didn’t question it. We were children we were just happy. For over a month, the increase continued quietly. No speech. No warning. Just silent generosity.

Then one evening, he gathered us and told us he would be traveling.

Before he left, instead of giving us money like he normally would, he said something unusual:

“This time, calculate what you need for two weeks. Feed yourselves. Write everything down. When I return, I will pay you.”

It felt strange. But we agreed.

For two weeks, we became accountants of our own survival.
Every snack.
Every transport fare.
Every small expense.

We wrote them down carefully, almost proudly. It felt like adulthood in small doses.

When he returned, we were excited. We arranged our lists neatly, ready to be paid. There was joy in our eyes the joy of children expecting reward.

He collected the papers. Looked at them quietly.

Then he said something I will never forget.

“You survived for two weeks.”

We smiled, waiting for the money.

He continued.

“I didn’t ask you to do this because I didn’t want to provide for you. I asked you to do it to see if, from what I have been giving you, you have learned how to survive without me.”

The room became quiet.

“This is life,” he said. “Anything can happen. If unforeseen circumstances take me away from you, will you be able to stand? Have you been wise enough to save? Have you been wise enough to think?”

Then he went deeper.

“Not only financially. Everything you are learning from me discipline, responsibility, character you must be able to live it without me. A day will come when I will not be here. And when that day comes, I want to be at peace knowing you can survive.”

That day, he didn’t pay us.

At least not immediately.

But a week later, he called us again.

And he paid each of us more than what we had written.

More than what we expected.

Because the lesson was never about the money.

It was about independence.
It was about preparation.
It was about love expressed through responsibility.

Since that day, I have never forgotten.

Because sometimes the greatest love a father can give his children is not comfort…

It is capacity.