What if I told you I wasn’t supposed to be here? Let me explain.
I wasn’t born into privilege. My childhood wasn’t framed by silver spoons or Ivy League connections but by the grit and resilience needed to survive in a world that offered no shortcuts.
I come from a lower-middle-class family in Kenya. My father worked tirelessly to keep us afloat, and I witnessed his struggles firsthand—losing jobs, pleading for opportunities, and starting over repeatedly. I’ve slept on floors, worn donated clothes, and hustled for an education when school fees were out of reach.
Academics weren’t my strength. My grades were C’s and D’s until sheer determination turned those struggles into triumphs. Against all odds, I graduated with first-class honors.
Then life tested me further. At 16, a terrorist attack nearly ended my life. A grenade blast left me in a wheelchair and stole my sense of safety. But that trauma didn’t break me—it became my greatest teacher, reshaping my perspective on life and resilience.
At 18, I launched my first company using nothing but a school computer. By 24, I had exited three ventures. Along the way, I failed more times than I succeeded, lost significant money, and faced the brink of bankruptcy. But each failure refined me, teaching lessons no textbook ever could.
On paper, I was “successful.” Inside, I felt lost. So, I embarked on a soul-searching journey. I climbed Africa’s highest peaks, lived among wild animals, and rediscovered joy in minimalism and human connection. These experiences taught me humility, empathy, and the power of embracing uncertainty.
I’m not perfect. My story is messy, raw, and real—but it’s mine. I’ve faced rejection and loneliness. I’ve thrown house parties to connect, only to retreat to a quiet corner as the introvert in me took over. I’ve learned to harness my superpowers—Bipolar, ADHD, and PTSD—turning them into advantages.
I don’t have an Ivy League degree, nor did I grow up with privilege. My education came from the school of hard knocks, where failure was the teacher, resilience the reward, and every setback a masterclass in reinvention.
Today, I stand as an immigrant African, a survivor, an entrepreneur, and a seeker. My journey is still being written, and I’ve chosen to build in public—sharing our progress, challenges, and victories daily on LinkedIn.
