I’m Moses. Ever since I was a kid in our little village in Homa Bay, I was dead set on hitting it big. You know, that classic belief: bust your butt, stay ambitious, take some chances, and you’ll build a brighter future. Right after high school, I packed up and headed to the city, saying goodbye to my folks, my brothers and sisters, and the simple home where I grew up. I swore to myself I’d make it and come back to pull my family out of the tough times.
Those early city days? Full of excitement, endless grinding, and real hardship. I jumped from one random job to another, pulled all-nighters, and pinched every coin. Whatever little I could spare, I’d wire home, holding onto the hope that all this effort would mean something big someday. But man, urban life hit harder than I expected. Deals crumbled, people I trusted let me down, and my hard-earned savings just trickled away on unexpected bills.
Years later, I was flat broke and feeling totally crushed. Pride kept me quiet, but the thought of going home empty-handed? That shame was a killer. I dodged calls, picturing the letdown in my parents’ eyes. Finally, I couldn’t avoid it anymore. I hopped on a bus back, my stomach in knots.
The village looked unchanged—same red dirt paths, familiar smiles, humble houses. But my family? Mom was weak and ill, my siblings had grown up fending for themselves, and the worst blow: my uncle had sold our family home while I was gone. Supposedly to “support everyone”, but that house held all my childhood memories. It was gone. I’d left to help them thrive, only to come back to nothing. The hurt cut deep. Read more https://drbokko.com/?p=35356
