Jackson Tito, a Kitui boy, has not stepped inside a classroom since January. At just 13 years old and still in grade eight, he wakes up every morning to a house full of younger brothers and sisters who look to him for everything. The weight sits heavy on his small shoulders, yet he carries it without complaint because there is simply no one else.
His mother leaves for long stretches, and the five children stay behind with Tito in charge. Each child came from a different father, and none of those men send money or show up to help. Tito has never even laid eyes on his own dad. Family members told him the man walked away two days after the birth and never looked back. That rejection happened years ago, but the boy still feels the empty space it left.
The pattern repeats like clockwork. His mother meets someone new, gets pregnant, and after the baby arrives, she hands the little one over to Tito and then disappears for weeks or sometimes months. When she returns, she is expecting again, and the cycle starts over.
Now the family lives in Kitui, where life moves slowly under the hot sun and opportunities feel far away. Tito does not sit idle waiting for her. He heads out each day to find ways to keep everyone fed. He fetches water from the nearest point and sells it jug by jug.
He gathers empty plastic bottles and containers and then walks them to buyers who pay small amounts. Occasionally he carries household items door-to-door, hoping someone needs a broom or a spoon enough to part with a few coins.
The days stretch long. After his mother gave birth recently, she fell ill, and the full load landed squarely on him. He manages four little ones who depend on him for every meal and comfort. At night the children sleep on the bare floor with no mattress underneath them.
The house stays quiet except for occasional coughs or whispers when hunger keeps it awake. On the worst evenings, when Tito comes home with empty hands and nothing left to sell, he boils plain water, mixes it with a pinch of salt, and calls it supper. The kids sip it slowly, clinging to the hope that tomorrow might bring something better.
Despite everything, Tito holds onto one big dream. He wants to return to school more than anything. Books and lessons once filled his days, and he remembers the feeling of learning new things with a quiet excitement.
Now those memories feel distant. He often tells friends or anyone who listens that if a kind person steps forward to support his education, he could finish his studies, lift his family out of this hardship and break the painful loop once and for all.
The exhaustion shows in his eyes. He has even begged his mother not to bring any more children into the world because the responsibility already feels too much for his young heart. His voice carries the strain of someone far older than 13 when he speaks about it.
Neighbours in the area know the situation, but many face their own struggles, so help remains scarce. Kitui sits in a part of Kenya where dry seasons bite hard and families scrape by on whatever they can find. Stories like Tito’s surface from time to time, yet they rarely stay in the spotlight long enough for real change.
Tito starts his mornings before the sun climbs high. He checks on the youngest first, makes sure they have a little water to drink, and then sets off on his rounds. The water business takes him across uneven paths where dust clings to his clothes.
Plastic collection means bending down again and again under the glare of the sky. Every coin he earns goes straight to maize flour or a small bundle of vegetables if he is lucky. There is no room for extras, no toys or new shoes, just the bare minimum to keep the children from crying through the night.
His mother’s absences stretch the bond between them thin. She returns sometimes looking worn out, and the house fills with temporary relief. Yet the pattern never shifts, and Tito finds himself back in the same role.
He shoulders the cooking, the cleaning and the constant worry about what they will eat next. At an age when most boys play football after class or tease each other on the way home, he counts portions and stretches every resource.
People who hear about Tito often pause and wonder how one child manages it all. His story spreads quietly through local conversations and a few social media posts from those who have met him.
The details stay simple, but they stick with listeners. A boy who sells water instead of reading textbooks. A brother who boils salt water for supper. A son who pleads with his mother to stop adding to the family because he cannot stretch himself any further.
Tito keeps going because giving up is not an option. He believes somewhere out there someone might see his situation and offer the hand he needs to get back to school. That single chance could change the direction for all five children. For now he focuses on today’s hustle and tomorrow’s small hope.
The Kitui sun beats down as he walks his routes, and the little ones wait at home trusting that their big brother will return with something to fill their stomachs.
His dream feels simple on paper, yet it carries the weight of an entire family’s future. If support arrives, Tito could sit in class again, learn new skills and one day earn enough to lift everyone out of poverty.
