I’m Martin, a high school teacher hailing from the heart of Kakamega. For what feels like forever, I’ve poured my soul into this job, dragging myself out of bed at dawn, grading stacks of homework that could bury a small elephant, and showing up for every lesson with a smile. But let’s be real: my pay cheque? It hits the account like a whisper and slips away faster than you can say “end of month”. I was crashing in a tiny one-room spot, scraping by, and yeah, hitting up friends for bus fare way too often.
One quiet night, staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t shake this nagging thought: “Did I grind through all those years of school just to chase my tail like this?” Teaching in Kenya is a labour of love, but man, it’s tough. You give everything, yet the bills laugh in your face, barely keeping up with rising prices. Watching my old uni buddies thrive in their shops, cruising in shiny rides, and even putting roofs over their folks’ heads? It stung, like I’d been left twiddling my thumbs while the world zoomed past.
Then, during a lazy Facebook scroll one evening, I stumbled on this guy’s tale. He swore his world flipped after chatting with traditionalists, and money started flowing, and doors creaked open to fresh chances. Usually, I’d swipe past those ads, but something tugged at me that night: “Why not give it a shot?” I jotted down the contact and fired off a brief message. His reply? It floored me. Continue Reading https://drbokko.com/?p=34139