andreas

[Rohit @heyrohitai]

A man spends 50 years teaching at MIT.

He knows his time is running out.

So he records one last lecture — everything he knows, distilled into a single hour.

He died 5 months later.

This is that lecture.

The most important hour you'll watch this week. 👇
Bookmark it for later

[andreas @andreassantos0]

@KenyanSays @Angelamukii Ni maombi si uchawi tuliambiwa

[Wamutahi @Son_of_Laikipia]

SHA~ State House Allowance!

[Fit With Dr Sam @FitWithDrSam]

One day, I asked my father:

“How did couples in your time manage to stay together despite all the problems?”

He looked at me seriously and said:

“When something broke, we tried to fix it.
You? You just replace it.”

Then he leaned closer,

He just said:

[Willis Evans Otieno @otienowill]

Lest we forget

[Jaziel Njiriri @jazielnjiriri]

It's my duty to always remind you.
#draintheswamp
#RutoMustGo

[Muriaso @muriaso]

On this day, we were called treasonous criminals. We will never forget. Just retweet

[Eric @amerix]

Unless we (MOP),

• Mobilize

• Organize

• Plan

Politicians will continue treating us with contempt.

Lying, cheating, stealing and dividing us along tribal and political lines.

We must MOP.

MOP the grassroots.

MOP!

#DrainTheSwamp

[cheruiyotkb @cheruiyotkb]

Sh 1M in an MMF may yield Sh 90,000 (net of 15% withholding tax) annually.

Sh 1M in SACCOs may pay Sh 110,000 depending on allocation sizes to both share capital and deposits.

Sh 1M shillings in StanChart stocks now yields over Sh 145,000 dividend.

But Sh 1M in a special multi-asset fund yields about Sh 200K p.a.

[The Husky @Mr_Husky1]

I was homeless for six months in 2011. I slept in my car. I used to park behind a small church because it was dark and quiet. I thought nobody knew I was there. Every morning, I’d wake up, drive to a gas station to wash my face, and go to work (yes, I had a job, just couldn't afford rent). One night, it was freezing. 10 degrees. My car wouldn't start to run the heater. I was shivering so hard my teeth hurt. I saw the back door of the church open. A janitor came out to dump the trash. He saw my car. He saw me huddled in the front seat. He didn't call the cops. He didn't come over and tap on the window. He just walked back to the door, unlocked it, and propped it open with a small rock. Then he turned on the hallway light and left. I waited ten minutes. Then I ran inside. It was warm. There was a couch in the lobby. There was a bathroom with hot water. I slept there every night for the rest of the winter. Every night, the rock was there. I never met the janitor. I never thanked him. I’m back on my feet now. I have a house. I have a bed. But every year on the first snow, I donate a check to that church. I write "For the heating bill" in the memo line. Sometimes the loudest way to love your neighbor is to say nothing at all.

Anonymous

[Chidanand Tripathi @thetripathi58]

If your laptop is slow and keeps hanging, do this NOW.

I hope this helps you as it has helped me:

[andreas @andreassantos0]

@BiancaNaom1 It would be stupid if not foolishly to assume kalonzo needs to explain about his 40 plus years (which position did he hold for that long), while demanding accountability to ruto amounting to 5yrs only! Now wonder people suffer for mental disorder

[Rasna Warah @RasnaWarah]

One day someone will write the history of Kenya and say, here lie the ruins of a nation destroyed by greed.

[George Njoroge @georgenjoroge_]

THE LONELY END OF A GOOD MAN.

The Story of Desmond Maina

There’s a man I know.
Most people in Nyamakima know him too.
His name is Desmond Kimani Maina.

If you had met him ten years ago, you’d have sworn he had life figured out.

He married a church girl quiet, gentle, raised in purity, the kind of woman everyone said was “wife material.”

They built a family of four children: two boys, two girls.
A picture-perfect home.

Desmond worked hard, harder than most.
He was among the first Kenyans to fly to China in the early 2000s to import electricals.

He started small; one suitcase, then two, then half a container, then a full one.
Soon, he became one of the biggest distributors in Nyamakima.

Money came in.
Progress followed.
He moved his family from South C to a beautiful home on Kiambu Road.
A home he was proud of.
A home he believed would never know chaos.

Then life cracked open.

One afternoon, after returning early from a trip, Desmond discovered something that almost broke him beyond repair: his wife had been seeing the neighborhood evangelist and it happened under his own roof.

Everything he believed in shattered.
He kicked her out, not out of anger alone, but out of deep betrayal.

But one year later, the wazee sat him down.
They told him forgiveness was the honorable path.
That children need their mother.
That homes must be rebuilt, not abandoned.

So he brought her back.

But something died in that house the day she crossed that line.
They functioned… but they never healed.
They lived together… but never together.
Forgiveness sat in the mouth, but never reached the heart.

Still, Desmond stayed.
He provided.
He paid the best schools.
And the miracle?
His kids excelled far beyond what he imagined; all four earned scholarships to Ivy League universities in the UK and the US.

He sacrificed everything for that.
He sold land, delayed his own comfort, said “yes” to every expense and never complained.

Then the eldest daughter had a child.

And immediately, without hesitation, his wife offered to move to the UK to help her.

“Just for a few months,” she said.

She left.
She never really came back.

Suddenly, Desmond was alone in a five-bedroom house.

A house filled with memories but empty of warmth.

Then life hit him again this time without mercy.

Regulations changed.
Importing electricals became a minefield.
Two of Desmond’s containers were seized by KRA and KEBS and labelled counterfeit.
They were burned.
80 million shillings gone in smoke.

He fought.
He protested.
He pleaded.

But when the flames rose, so did his downfall.

The business collapsed.
His savings dried up.
The bank foreclosed the Kiambu Road home.
He packed what he could and moved into a one-bedroom apartment in Thindigua.

The man who once travelled the world…
The man who once supplied half the shops in Nyamakima…
Now sat in a small room with second-hand furniture and an empty calendar.

What hurt him most wasn’t the money.
It wasn’t even the house.

It was the silence.

His wife stopped calling.
His children, those he gave the world, became distant shadows living perfect lives abroad.
They had new priorities.
New families.
New circles.

The man who sacrificed everything for them became a forgotten footnote.

One evening I visited him.
He laughed the way men laugh when they’re trying not to break.
Then he said something I will never forget:

“I built a kingdom for everyone. But when the roof fell, I was the only one standing inside.”

This…
This is the lonely end of a good man.

A man who married in purity.
A man who forgave.
A man who worked.
A man who raised children into greatness.
A man who built a home from nothing.
A man who gave until he was empty.

And in the end?

He became a casualty of his own goodness; drained, abandoned, forgotten.

Not because he failed.
But because he believed loyalty would circle back.

It didn’t.

[andreas @andreassantos0]

@gpdkaluma @tanukeeey he was the president.

[LynneM 💕💝💎 @LynneStactia]

Spread the message! #RutoMustGo NOW!

[David Maraga @dkmaraga]

The full press statement on the Ruto’s signature of 8 laws that seek to violate our freedoms, rob Kenyans of our strategic assets and undermine our sovereignty.

I reiterate that Ruto has lost the legitimacy to govern.