Steve Muriithi

Global Youth Ambassador for Education - TheirWorld | Global Schools Ambassador - UN-SDSN | SDGs Campaigner

[Dayu Dolma @gektimbul]

we never know dot's collection could be a masterpiece 😱

[No filter Skin @NoFilterSkin]

These kids are so creative omg, I couldnt even think of one😂

[Arti Shah @TechByArti]

During a job interview, if they ask: "How do you handle it when everything is a priority?"

USE THE GOLDEN RESPONSE:

[Reads with Ravi @readswithravi]

“To be successful at anything, you don’t have to be special. You just have to be what most people aren’t: consistent, determined and willing to work for it. No shortcuts.”

— Tom Brady

[Mhe. Litundunya @litundunya]

Shooting at uniformed cops!

We are Finished as a Nation!

[Omwamba 🇰🇪 @omwambaKE]

Kenya is the only country in the world where citizens search police officers 😂

[Don Bull @mainandegwa232]

Here's a clip of wives crying for their husbands being murdered LIVE in Nairobi during the 2007/2008 PEV

[✧˚ @Kinngszn]

Exulansis

[Tony Stark @IamClemoh]

@BigBrainBizness @ABCSharkTank Here's the full video

[May🌺 @_ayandamay]

High intelligence often comes with heightened pattern recognition. You start noticing social masks, forced conversations, performative friendships, hidden motives, emotional immaturity, and energy that feels draining instead of nourishing. Many highly intelligent people also have more active nervous systems, deeper inner worlds, and lower tolerance for superficial stimulation, so solitude can feel safer than constantly shrinking themselves to fit environments that don’t feel aligned.

[Claire Taylor 🇬🇧ioekah Lumish , ( Alcyone ) @ClaireT13274488]

"Your great-grandmother was not trying to manifest a beach vacation. She was not curating an aesthetic. She was not optimizing...anything. She had a list, and the list was short, and the list was sacred.

A full pantry. Healthy children. A roof that did not leak. A husband who came home. A garden that produced. A few good dresses. A reliable stove. Sunday dinner with people she loved. Enough flour for the week and enough kindness for the neighbors.

That was the whole dream. That was the whole life. And by the standards of most of human history, achieving that list was a roaring success.

Then the twentieth century happened, and somebody figured out that a woman who is content is terrible for business. A woman with a full pantry is not running to the store. A woman who is satisfied with her kitchen is not redoing it every four years. A woman who knows what enough looks like cannot be sold the next thing.

So they got to work. They made the small house embarrassing. They made the old car embarrassing. They made the home-cooked meal embarrassing, and then when nobody knew how to cook anymore they sold it back as a meal kit with a celebrity chef on the box. They raised the cost of living until both parents had to work, and then they sold daycare and convenience food and weekend therapy to fix the exhaustion that working both jobs created in the first place.

They took your great-grandmother's list and called it poverty. They took her life and called it limited. They took her contentment and called it a lack of ambition.

And then they sold you ambition. They sold you a bigger house you cannot clean, a car you cannot pay off, a wardrobe you do not wear, a calendar you cannot survive, and a vague constant feeling that you are still falling behind.

You are not falling behind. You are running a race that was designed to have no finish line. The race itself is the product.

-copied and pasted author unknown

[Temi ✨ @cheftee_lead]

This is the first episode of the “Think as an Analyst” series.

We need to help those restaurant owner investigate what is going on with their sales.

Watch the video and think as an analyst. What are the Dataset we would be needing to solve this?

[The journey of A Christian lady @ThejourneyofACL]

“I’m not enough"
Neither were 5 loaves and 2 fish,
but look what Jesus did with that💛🥹

[NomNom @ardayayaa]

Couple Selfie Photo Ideas at the Airport

[Bishop Dale Bronner @BishopBronner]

Something shifts in your mindset when you realize that God is your source. Stop waiting for perfect conditions. Start! Prepare to your best ability and go trusting God for the rest.

[Sheila of the Most High @sheilatebra]

God knows you got hit with an unexpected challenge just as things started looking up, but that’s because God wants to know if you truly trust. I know it’s a tough time right now but I promise if you can hold the faith and stay aligned as best you can, and just take it one day at a time, you will see miracle after miracle after miracle. And your testimony will bless the world. So keep believing because you’re in the middle of one of the greatest blessings
of your life, and all things are possible for one who believes. “But as for me, I will look to the Lord... Though I fall, I shall rise; though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be my light.”

[Bishop Dale Bronner @BishopBronner]

While you are waiting for your breakthrough to come, you are most tempted to become anxious and worry. It is then that God most often redirects us towards #trust in Him.

[KABUGO @Kabugo_]

3. Faith is strategic, not noisy. Her silence wasn’t weakness. It was control.

4. Some blessings will be tested. The same miracle she received was the same one that was threatened.

[Levelup Logs @LevelupLogs]

HE MASTERED A BACKFLIP IN 5 MINUTES

[Silas Nyanchwani @nyanchwani]

Kenyan Millennial Men Have No Plan B

Kenyan men die young. The average male life expectancy is about 62, and healthy life expectancy, the years you actually live in good health, is closer to 57. So even the so-called average man spends his final years unwell.

Pick a random sample of twenty men in their thirties, and a startling number are already fatherless. Their old men are long dead, or they were never there to begin with: present but deadbeat, or absent and deadbeat, take your pick. Very few men have the privilege of seeing their fathers live into their 80s and 90s.

If I show up in my village right now, the men in their 40s and 50s have already begun to thin out. Between 60 and 75, there are almost none, and the rare one who reaches his mid-70s suddenly has a real shot at 85 and beyond. It is a silent crisis, and you never notice it until you are 40, marrying again, needing uncles to escort you, only to realize there are no uncles left, only cousins.

Our fathers’ generation was wasted by HIV/AIDS and by the economic collapse of the late 1980s and 1990s, a collapse engineered in part by World Bank and IMF prescriptions, the structural adjustment programs, not unlike what is being done to us now. Many in Gen Z may not know this, but there was a time when this country actually made things. The Western Kenya belt ran on sugar: Chemelil, Muhoroni, Nzoia, Mumias, Sony.

Webuye had Pan Paper. There were cotton ginneries and pyrethrum, and coffee farming spread as far as Kisii. Nakuru was busy as hell. So was Kitale, and even small outposts like Kilgoris. Thika was big, big, and industrial. Then, within a decade, the factories went quiet, the parastatals were privatized, and every plant that shut, every institution that was sold off, took real livelihoods and real families down with it.

People retreated to the countryside. I still remember the prettiest girl who transferred to our school. I would vote for Ruto if that is what it takes to find out how her life turned out. She looked like she had lived a cushioned life somewhere, only to land in rural Kisii, in a jigger-infested classroom. Those were the real-time adjustments that millennials rarely talk about. Maybe that is part of why so many of us are quietly traumatized.

As I said, our fathers at least had a Plan B: ancestral land, and our mothers.

As men, we romanticize our independence now, and some treat marriage as a woman’s backup plan, but in the 1980s and 90s, it was often a wife’s ingenuity that kept the whole family alive. And for the many men who died early, leaving behind young, bewildered widows, it was the women who carried the weight of raising everyone, without taking anything away from the men who did their part.

For a while, between roughly 2005 and 2015, I honestly believed millennial men would escape our fathers’ fate. Now I am not so sure. More and more millennial men are walking into something worse than what their fathers faced.

Where the late 1980s and 1990s lost a generation of productive men and women to HIV/AIDS, the late 2010s and 2020s are killing men with something quieter: a broken economy, made worse by terrible political choices, a shaky global situation, and a future nobody can read. As Darius Okolla has argued, millennials are the first generation here to enter adulthood under this much uncertainty.

For our parents, marriage and a home of your own, even a badly built one, were realistic dreams. Plenty of millennials did manage to put up decent houses in the towns ringing Nairobi. But far more never accumulated enough to reach escape velocity from poverty. It is those born in the late 1980s and 1990s who hurt the most: bright enough to get into college and raised to believe that education was the key to everything. What a cruel joke that has turned out to be.

A huge share of graduates since 2014 have never held a properly structured formal job, the kind you keep consistently for five years, long enough to set yourself up for the basics. So instead of marrying, a man in this position ends up with a baby mama, and often cannot even provide for the baby. Just yesterday, I was talking with a younger Gen Z cousin about the recent spike in new HIV infections, and she told me, plainly, that she keeps condoms on her because some of the young men she meets cannot even afford one. That is not a joke, man.

And here is the part that should frighten you: this is the same machine that took our fathers. After years of steady decline, from about 94,000 new HIV infections at the peak down to roughly 16,000 in 2024, new infections jumped again in 2025, past 20,000, the first reversal in years. The cause is almost insultingly familiar. When the United States froze PEPFAR and USAID funding, prevention collapsed almost overnight. Testing fell, PrEP uptake halved, and young people aged 15 to 24 now account for about four in every ten new infections. Donor money built the wall that held the disease back, and the moment it was pulled, the disease started walking back through. History is not repeating. It is rhyming, and it is rhyming in our generation. Worse, our government, like so many across Africa, rarely wants to solve some of these basic problems.

Now that we are in our 40s, economic depression is a silent killer. No amount of motivation, no think piece, no pep talk will bail a man out. At some point, you need the only thing that actually works: money.

Our economy began its slow collapse around 2015. Some of the rot traces back to the 2008-09 global crash; the West never fully recovered, and when America sneezes, the rest of us still catch the cold. But the deeper wounds were self-inflicted. We raised a Eurobond of roughly Sh 200 billion, and to this day the Auditor General cannot fully account for it; by the official reckoning, around a billion dollars has never been traced to any actual project. We built a wildly overpriced SGR. The effects were immediate. As Eurobond repayments and other loans came due, cash drained out of the economy. The banks that used to hawk loans to us before 2015 found a far better customer in the government itself, and what little credit remained for ordinary people dried up.

Before long, counties stopped paying on time. Today, the unpaid bills are staggering: national government pending bills alone have exceeded Sh 500 billion, and the total, including counties, sits north of Sh 690 billion, much of it owed to small suppliers who have since folded. Taxes climbed, inflation climbed, companies issued profit warnings after profit warnings, and many shut, exactly as they did in the 1990s.

The economy kept shrinking, and in the meantime, we handed the keys to a thieving elite, the kind of arrangement where only they get to steal, so the money pools in fewer and fewer hands.

In real life, this is what it looks like: if you run a business, the stock does not move. A friend who sells electronics in Luthuli told me that in his good years, back in the 2010s, he shifted serious volume and was, in real terms, a millionaire. These days, he is lucky to sell one cheap Chinese TV a week. Last I heard, he may close shop.
You can see it in black tax too, which keeps climbing. I told Gordon Opiyo recently that we should be careful about celebrating the rise in diaspora remittances. That money is not flowing home to buy Treasury bonds or build anything; it is flowing home to plug the holes that government irresponsibility keeps tearing open in people’s lives, something both the Central Bank and the Kenyan Demographic Health Survey admit.

Ruto did not kill the Kenyan economy. It was already on life support by the time he inherited it. Whatever little resuscitation he managed, he did for himself and his cronies. Now, standing over a dead economy, all he does is dance and piss on the grave while his bloggers cheer.

None of this is to say women are not suffering. They are, and their story is theirs to tell. But what I am certain of is this: in the coming decade, a lot of men’s deaths will be hastened by the collapsing economy. Whether we lose them to drugs, to suicide, to slow depression, or to plain loss of hope, the direction is grim. If things keep tanking, I would not be shocked to see male life expectancy slide back toward the mid-50s. Broke men cannot afford decent healthcare or good food. And broke men, more than anyone, tend to lose their networks and their relationships, even within their own families. That isolation is its own quiet killer.

So, educated millennials and Gen Z men, hear me clearly.

The point of laying all this out is not to bury you. It is to get you to stop waiting for the economy, or the government, or some motivational speaker, to come and rescue you. They are not coming. The men who make it through the next ten years will be the ones who saw the storm early and built for it: who learned a skill the market actually pays for, who pooled resources with other men instead of competing in misery, who kept their bodies and their minds intact, and who refused to let shame cut them off from the people who love them. Money is the goal, yes, but the things that keep a broke man alive long enough to go and make it are boring and unglamorous: a few real friends, a reason to wake up, and the stubbornness to not check out early.

Our fathers had land and our mothers to fall back on. We were handed no Plan B. We have to become our own. Build it now, while you still can, because the times are bad, and they will get worse before they get better. The men who understand this and move will not merely survive. They will be the ones still standing when the dust settles, and the ones who get to rebuild.
Nothing messes with a man like a bad economy. And this, my friends, is not a wantam or tutam thing. This one outlasts whoever is sitting in State House