Growing up in a small rural village has shaped the person I am today: resilient, disciplined, hopeful, and contented. Life there teaches you to share, to look out for others, and to be mindful of what truly matters. My childhood was simple yet demanding. It was a time when every day offered a new lesson in endurance and strength
I grew up in the Eastern part of Kenya, in an arid area where survival depended on discipline and teamwork. My siblings and I walked to school every morning, sometimes barefoot, under the scorching sun or cold dawn breeze. The school had minimal resources — cracked blackboards, a few worn-out desks, and books that had been passed through many hands. Yet, despite all that, we were eager to learn. Every day felt like a step toward something bigger, even when we didn’t fully understand what that “bigger” was.
Resilience began with routine. After school, while other children in towns might have gone home to rest, we switched to house chores. I grazed our family’s cows and goats, fetched water from our village stream (kathambangii), and sometimes helped my mother prepare dinner before nightfall. The nights were dark — our village had no electricity — and our light came from paraffin lanterns. Those evenings, sitting by the dim light, I often read or wrote in my old exercise books. It was in those quiet hours that I learned the power of consistency and the beauty of hope.
Challenges were part of daily life. The long walks to school taught me patience. The dusty classrooms taught me adaptability. Sharing limited meals with neighbors taught me empathy. We didn’t have much, but we had each other. In our small community, no one truly suffered alone.
When one family lacked food, others shared what little they had. That sense of togetherness became my anchor, shaping how I view people and purpose today.
As I grew older, I began to understand that resilience is about choosing joy amid difficulty and showing up when the odds are against you. Back then, I didn’t know the word resilience, but I lived it daily.
My childhood also taught me the value of gratitude. When you grow up with little, you learn to see abundance in simple things. Gratitude turns struggle into strength.
Looking back, I realize that resilience was planted in me by my environment and nurtured by the people around me. My parents modeled discipline. My teachers taught persistence. My community showed compassion. They shaped a version of me that refuses to give up, no matter how rough the path gets.
Today, whenever I face new challenges — whether in work, relationships, or personal growth — I draw from those childhood lessons. I remind myself that if I could thrive in an arid land, walk miles to school, and still dream big under a smoky lantern, then there’s no mountain too high to climb. Resilience, I’ve learned, is about standing tall after falling, trying again when you fail, and finding purpose even in pain. Every stage of my life continues to echo those early lessons. Whenever I face uncertainty, I look back to that little girl’s determination shining in her eyes. She didn’t know it then, but she was building a foundation of strength that would carry her through every season of life. Resilience is not something you find; it’s something you grow. And for me, it began in that small rural village. My spirit is unbreakable.