Beyond Limits

A Day in a Kenyan Public Hospital We don’t expect to have sick people at home. That’s not how we imagine our days starting. We make plans — responsible adult plans — with illusions of control. “I’ll drop by the market, pick up a few things, maybe check on them after lunch…” That was me, right before life reminded me that control is a myth and the real planner is the one above. We had been seeking medical support for a close family member who had been unwell. After visiting a couple of private facilities, the verdict was clear: “ You need to see a cardiologist .” Which is how we ended up at the public hospital at 7 a.m., trying to beat the crowd. Plot twist: the crowd had already beaten us. There was already a thick line of patients outside, some holding plastic files, others clutching their chests, their children, or their faith. Then came the first unexpected twist of the day — a stern-looking doctor, who appeared like a drill sergeant from a medical bootcamp. Without much conversatio...

There are moments in life when the very ground beneath you feels like it’s moving. Not in loud, dramatic ways — but in quiet, unsettling shifts. The things you thought were stable begin to shake. The rhythms you relied on no longer feel secure. The roles, the work, the expectations… they all blur. And you find yourself wondering: Where do I stand now? I’ve been there — and if I’m honest, I’m still there in many ways. Trying to hold the pieces. Trying to stay faithful. Trying not to break while quietly whispering to God, “ Please just show me where to place my feet .” And yet, in the middle of the shifting, something strange happens. Peace comes. Not because everything makes sense. Not because the answers arrive. But because God meets us right there — in the in-between, in the tension, in the unsure. Philippians 4:7 talks about a peace that “ passes understanding. ” It’s not logical. It doesn’t follow the rules of reason. It just settles in — soft, sure, uninvited but so welcome. This k...

Photo credit: Al-jazeera  We ended our Narok trip with a visit to a place that holds both heartbreak and hope — a rescue centre for girls who have escaped early marriage and Female Genital Mutilation (FGM). The girls welcomed us with soft smiles and curious eyes. Some were barely teenagers. Others were already carrying the weight of decisions they didn’t choose. What stood out immediately was how incredibly beautiful they all were. Not just outwardly — though they truly are — but in the quiet strength they carried, in how they sat together, in how they listened, and in the way they were trying, even in silence, to reclaim something of themselves. The centre doesn’t just offer shelter — it offers pause. A break in the cycle. A breath between what was and what could be. Photo Credit: Al-jazeera  We spent time talking, listening, and gently walking through a session on menstrual  hygiene. We laughed over small things. We handed out sanitary pads and new panties — simple item...

On our second day in Narok, we visited Narok Women Prison. We were there with Afrikala Arts and the Association of Sex Workers — three very different groups, but all connected by one goal: to spend time with the women, to hold space, and to just be present. We met 32 women and one child in the facility. There was no big agenda. No packed program. Just a few hours to pause and breathe together. Afrikala led a mental wellness session that was simple but deeply grounding. We did breathing exercises, shared affirmations, and allowed ourselves — all of us — to take a step back from everything else and focus inward. There was a softness in the room that came over time. At first, you could feel the guardedness. But as the moments passed, as the breathing slowed, as the affirmations grew louder, something shifted.  One woman whispered after the session, “I didn’t realise how tense I’ve been until I let myself breathe.” That sentence sat with me for hours. Later, we had a conversation aroun...