Divorce: The Woman’s Reality
Today, I want to speak directly to the woman who finds herself standing at a crossroads. You are in a position where you are considering—or perhaps have already decided—to file for divorce. You aren’t in a high-risk, physically violent situation, but you are deeply hurt, dissatisfied, and exhausted. Right now, divorce feels like the only door left open. Before you walk through that door, I want to share 10 realities from my book, Reality of Divorce, based on my own journey and the experiences I’ve seen here in Kenya. My hope is not to judge you, but to give you the full picture of the price that is often paid along the way. 1. The Shadow of a Patriarchal System We live in a society where the systems meant to support us are often grounded in traditional, oppressive attitudes toward women. When you enter the legal and social “machinery” of divorce in Kenya, you aren’t just dealing with a breakup; you are navigating a male-dominated environment. In my own journey, I faced everything from sexual harassment by a lawyer to being mistreated by the very police meant to protect me. 2. The Weight of Depression and Isolation Unless you are walking closely with God, divorce is an incredibly lonely path. You are juggling legal systems, your children’s emotions, and your own trauma simultaneously. It is no wonder so many women suffer from depression and PTSD. The emotional turmoil is “humongous,” and it wears you down physically and mentally. 3. The “Gianormous” Financial Burden Let’s talk about the money. Legal fees are not a one-off payment; they are ongoing and staggering. You can expect to pay anywhere from 25,000 to 200,000 KES (and often much more) just to keep the process moving. Finding an honest, competent lawyer is a battle in itself—I went through seven before my process was finished. 4. The Loss of Lifestyle Unless you were the primary breadwinner, your personal finances will likely plummet. In Kenya, a large majority of divorced women, especially stay-at-home moms, end up living on the line of poverty. Your lifestyle will change in ways you cannot imagine. 5. There Are No Financial Guarantees Even with our Constitution, alimony or maintenance is never a guarantee. Corruption and systemic loopholes are real. After 18 years of marriage, I received no alimony. I know many women who had to abandon the divorce process halfway through simply because they ran out of money to fight. 6. Your Children’s “Worst Nightmare” We often tell ourselves that children are resilient and that the upheaval is temporary. It isn’t. Divorce is often a child’s worst nightmare realized: the fear that their foundation is disappearing. Statistics show that children from divorced homes in these environments are five times more likely to face poverty and are at a higher risk for academic struggles and substance abuse. 7. The “Ugliness” of the War Divorce has a way of turning adults animalistic. Your children will see sides of their parents that are contradictory to everything they knew. They get caught in the crossfire of the “war,” which can damage their relationship with both parents for a lifetime. 8. The Shrinking of the Family Tree When you divorce, you don’t just lose a spouse; you often lose an entire side of the family. Grandparents, aunts, and cousins may disappear. In my case, after nearly a decade, there has been zero contact with my former in-laws. You find out very quickly who your real friends are—both inside and outside the church. 9. The Long Road to Stability Rebuilding a stable life takes much longer than people tell you. While you are trying to heal from trauma, you are also trying to manage the “nitty-gritty” of daily survival. It is one of the toughest experiences a woman can go through. 10. A Death Without a Proper End Divorce is like a death that never ends. It lacks the immediate closure of a funeral. The pain can linger for 30 years or more, carried by both you and the children. Is There Another Way? If your marriage is not volatile or life-threatening, I want to ask you: Have you truly done everything? Final Thoughts I know you are in pain. I know you feel that leaving is the only way to stop the hurting. But unless you absolutely must leave for your safety, I urge you to take a long pause. Go back to the drawing board. Ask for the strength to reconcile if it is at all possible. Divorce isn’t just a legal filing; it’s a total life transformation. Make sure you are ready for the reality of that walk before you take the first step. God Bless Shibero
Read MoreIs Your Smartphone the ‘Other Woman or Man’ in Your Family?
Have you ever just paused for a second and noticed how quickly we react to our phones? Think about it. That little ping… that vibration in your pocket… that tiny red dot on a screen. We jump. It’s like an instinct now. But then, in that same moment, a child looks up and says, “Mom, look at this!” or “Dad, can you help me?” And what do we say? “Just a minute.” “Ngoja kidogo.” “In a bit.” The hard truth is, sometimes that minute never actually comes. If we’re being honest with ourselves—really honest—we might be accidentally teaching our children a heartbreaking lesson: that they come second to a notification. Just sit with that for a moment before you push back. It stings, doesn’t it? The Quiet Theft of Connection Now, don’t get me wrong. Technology isn’t the villain here. It’s a tool. But if we aren’t intentional, it starts to take over. It doesn’t happen loudly; it happens quietly. It steals a moment here, an afternoon there, until eventually, it steals the entire connection. And it’s stealing our peace, too. We spend hours scrolling through Instagram or TikTok, looking at these “perfect” families with their perfect smiles and curated holidays. We look up at our very normal, very messy, very human lives—and suddenly, we feel like we’re lacking. But let’s tell the truth: we are comparing our “behind-the-scenes” to someone else’s highlight reel. I’ve seen it myself—some of those “perfect” couples you see online are struggling just to speak to each other. It’s a performance. It’s a soap opera with a filter. What We Lost Along the Way I often find myself thinking back to our grandmothers—our shoshos. Evenings were so different then. There were no screens to hide behind. We sat together. I remember sitting at my grandmother’s feet, hanging onto every word of her stories. She’d tell us about the clever hare—stories that made us laugh, stories that kept us on the edge of our seats, but stories that always carried a seed of wisdom. She wasn’t just passing time; she was giving us her presence. That time was sacred. That is the Ubuntu way. And somewhere in the rush of the digital age, I think we lost it. The Rise of Digital Infidelity There’s another side to this that we don’t talk about enough: “Digital Adultery.” I’ve seen it destroy beautiful homes. Not once, not twice, but many times. I remember sitting in a cyber café years ago. A man next to me was on the phone, looking someone straight in the eye—metaphorically—and lying about where he was. He was right there, but he was telling them he was in a different town. It’s become so easy to deceive. What starts as “harmless chatting” or a secret DM slowly creates a distance. That distance becomes a disconnect, and that disconnect is what eventually breaks a relationship. You don’t even have to leave your house to wander away from your partner anymore. That’s how accessible it is. The Ubuntu Solution: The Circle So, how do we fix this? We don’t have to throw our phones away, but we do need to reclaim our intention. Let’s bring back the Circle. In our traditional African homes, we sat in circles because in a circle, everyone can see each other. Everyone is heard. I have a simple challenge for you: Create a Digital Sabbath. Just one hour every day. Put the phones in a basket. No scrolling, no distractions. For that one hour, just be there. Ask your child, “What made you happy today?”Ask your partner, “What has been heavy on your heart lately?” And then—this is the important part—really listen. Not “half-listening” while glancing at a screen, but truly hearing them. It’s Not Too Much to Ask It’s only sixty minutes. We give so much of our lives to these glowing screens; surely we can give one hour to the people who actually matter. At the end of the day, family is where we are meant to be seen and understood. Let’s not trade that for a “Like.” If your family has struggled with this “screen silence,” or if you’ve found a way to break through it, I’d love to hear from you. Let’s talk. Let’s learn from each other. Maybe we can bring the village back into our living rooms. Don’t wait for regret. Don’t wait until the distance is too wide to cross. Live your life intentionally. Use technology, but for heaven’s sake, don’t let it use you. Take care of yourself. Take care of your family. And may you live with presence and purpose. God bless you.
Read MoreThe Impact of Fathers Who Chose to Leave Their Children
Studies show that around one-third of children in sub-Saharan Africa are being raised by single mothers. In Kenya alone, over one-third of households are headed by women. This reality raises a critical question: where are the fathers? This message is directed toward fathers who have walked away from their responsibilities, as well as those who are physically present in the home but emotionally absent. When a man exists within a family environment only to have personal needs met—coming home to eat or sleep without connecting with the children—that man is a stranger in his own house. This is a difficult but necessary conversation. In African communities, from ancestral traditions to the present day, the role of a father is of paramount importance. When that role is vacant, children are deprived of essential foundations. The Identity GapLineage and a sense of belonging often stem from the father. Absence can strip a child of their understanding of where they stand within the community and how to carry a family name with dignity. Without a father’s input, children are often left trying to navigate their identity without a map. Guidance for Sons: Defining ManhoodSons look to their fathers to understand what it means to be a man. This isn’t about physical toughness, but about the weight of responsibility. Without a present role model, young men may grow up uncertain and likely to repeat the same patterns of absence they witnessed, struggling to manage their own future families. Guidance for Daughters: The Standard of LoveA father is typically the first person to affirm a daughter’s beauty and worth. When a daughter hears “I love you” from her father first, it sets a standard. Without this affirmation, young women may seek validation in a world that often attaches a price to “love.” A father’s presence teaches a daughter how she deserves to be treated and helps her establish healthy boundaries. Beyond Financial SupportProviding a roof and paying school fees can be done from a distance, but that is not the fullness of fatherhood. True fathering requires interaction and connection. It is about the process of truly knowing one’s children. While some men may have experienced the pain of an absent father themselves, that pain should not be passed down. It is possible to break the cycle. A Note on SafetyIt is important to clarify that this call to return does not apply to situations involving abuse or violence. If a departure was due to the mistreatment of a spouse or children, the safety of the family remains the priority. Reflection and ActionFor those who have the opportunity to change, consider these questions: The opportunity to begin again is never completely lost. Second chances exist for those willing to do the work of rebuilding relationships. For anyone who has a story of transformation or wisdom regarding fatherhood, sharing those experiences can provide hope and guidance to other families in similar positions. Children need guidance, presence, and connection. It is never too late to learn how to be a father.
Read MoreThe Evolving Definition of Family
There is something worth reflecting on. Many of us grow up with a clear idea of what family is. It is defined by blood.By surname.By the people we are born into. And while that is true… it may not be the whole truth. Expanding the Meaning Over time, life introduces us to people we did not start with. People who notice when we are not okay.People who show up — sometimes quietly, sometimes consistently.People who make it clear that we do not have to carry everything on our own. And somewhere along the way, something shifts. We begin to realise that family is not only about where we come from…but also about who walks with us. The Bonds We Choose Not all family is formed at birth. Some of it is formed in moments: These connections are not accidental. They are built through presence, through consistency, through choice. And over time, they begin to carry the same weight — sometimes even more — than the ties we were born into. A Wisdom We Already Know There is an understanding that has always existed within our communities: A person does not become a person alone. We are shaped by: Family, in its truest sense, has never been only about proximity. It has always been about connection. Belonging, Reconsidered When we begin to see family this way, something opens up. Our circles become wider.Our sense of belonging becomes deeper. We stop asking, “Who is my family?” And begin to recognise, “Who has chosen to stand with me?” And just as importantly: Who am I choosing to stand with? A Shared Life A meaningful life is rarely built in isolation. It is built in relationship. In shared moments.In support given and received.In knowing that, at different times, we are both the ones being carried… and the ones doing the carrying. Closing Thought Perhaps family is not only something we inherit. Perhaps it is also something we create. Through care.Through presence.Through the simple, consistent act of showing up for one another. And in that way, life becomes not something we face alone…but something we build together.
Read MoreThe Quiet Strength of The Woman of The Home
You know, we often think about a house as just being made of walls and furniture, but there is something so much deeper happening inside. While a man might be the one guarding the door, I truly believe it is the woman who shapes the heart of the home. She is the one who brings that essential warmth to the space, sensing the little things that everyone else seems to miss and carrying that quiet, daily work that keeps a family together. I’ve realized that strength doesn’t always have to be loud. There is a steady kind of strength in nurturing life and offering comfort when things get difficult. It’s the woman who reminds the family who they are and what they stand for. A home isn’t just built; it’s grown through patience, kindness, and love that shows up in a thousand tiny ways every day —like a prepared meal, a gentle word, or just being a listening ear when someone is hurting. T hese might seem like ordinary moments, but they are the actual threads that hold a family together. There’s also something to be said about the power of faithfulness and loyalty. A home simply cannot stand without trust, and a wise woman knows that choosing her family and protecting that bond isn’t a weakness—it’s an honor. When we choose each other again and again, we build a foundation of respect that makes the whole family stronger. When that “heart” of the home is healthy, the impact is huge. Children grow up feeling safe and like they truly belong. But it goes even further than that —when families are strong, our communities become strong. So, if you ever feel like what you do is small, remember that your care and the stability you bring matter more than you know. Your children might not remember every single word you say, but they will always remember how loved they felt because of you. By nurturing a strong home, you aren’t just helping a family; you are helping to shape a better world The wisest of women builds her house, but folly with her own hands tears it down. Proverbs 14:1
Read MoreThe Influence of a Man in His Home
There is something worth reflecting on. Across many African homes, a man carries a responsibility that is not always spoken about… yet it is deeply felt. It is not only the responsibility to provide. It is the responsibility of presence. The Space We Call Home The world outside can be demanding. It asks a lot.It stretches, it pressures, it requires resilience. And as men, we often learn to meet that world with strength — to endure, to push through, to carry on. But the home is a different kind of space. Or at least… it is meant to be. It is not an extension of the battlefield.It is meant to be a place of rest. What Enters With Us Each time a man walks through his door, he brings something with him. Not just physically — but emotionally. The tone of his voice.The weight of his mood.The way he responds… or doesn’t respond. All of these things quietly shape the atmosphere of a home. Children feel it, even when nothing is said.A partner feels it, often in ways that are hard to explain. And over time, that atmosphere becomes the environment people live in every day. Understanding Strength Differently Many of us were raised with a clear idea of what strength looks like. To be firm.To be in control.To not show weakness. But within the home, strength can take on a different form. It can look like: This does not mean ignoring what is happening in the world. It simply means recognising that not every weight needs to enter the home. The Impact We May Not Always See The influence of a man in his home is often quiet, but far-reaching. When there is steadiness: And over time, something deeper is built. Not just a household… but a foundation. One that shapes how people see themselves, how they relate to others, and how they move through the world. A Point of Reflection This is not about getting everything right. No one does. But it is an invitation to become aware. To recognise that there is a moment — often unnoticed —between the outside world and the inside of the home. And within that moment, there is choice. Presence as Leadership Leadership in a home is not always loud. It does not always come through instruction or authority. Often, it is expressed through presence. Through: Because long after specific words are forgotten,what remains is how people experienced you. Closing Thought Perhaps the role of a man is not only to carry the weight of life… …but also to know where that weight belongs. To understand that a home can be something different.Something steady.Something safe. And that the way he shows up each dayquietly helps shape that reality. ‘He must manage his own household well, with all dignity keeping his children submissive, for if someone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he care for God’s church?’ 1 Timothy 3:4-5
Read MoreAre We Unconsciously Teaching Our Children to be Ashamed of Their Roots?
In 2006, I built my first Earth Holiday school in a leafy Nairobi suburb. I remember the look on a visitor’s face one time—a young bride—who said with pure indignation, “I could never live in a mud house,” as I explained – I now wanted to design a mud house. That discomfort wasn’t about the soil. It was about a deep-seated fear that if we don’t use concrete, we haven’t “arrived.” I turned those homes into classrooms for a children’s holiday school, and it was a revelation. These “urbanite” children had never been to their shags. They thought milk only came from a supermarket shelf. Most tragically, they carried a sense of superiority toward rural life, believing that “status” is something you buy, rather than something you are. Using What is in Our Hands We are raising a generation that believes the solution to every problem is to “buy new.” They are struggling under the weight of a world that tells them they must constantly consume to build their identity. But in the mud classroom, we taught a different truth: The earth has already provided everything we need. When we made mud-and-grass houses, I saw the children transform. And why wouldn’t they? They were interacting with nature. They realised that beauty doesn’t have to come from a shop—it can come from the soil beneath their fingernails. We talked about recycling, about resourcefulness, and about the genius of using what is already in our hands. When a child learns to make their own “entertainment things” from grass and mud, they break the golden handcuffs of consumerism. They realise that joy is not a transaction. The Duty to Show Them How to Love As parents and elders, it is our responsibility to show our children how to love life without a price tag attached. If we only value what is “new” and “expensive,” we teach them to be eternally dissatisfied. Soil is good. Nature is a generous mother who has already given us the blueprint for health and home. When we let our children play in the dirt, we aren’t just letting them get “messy”—we are letting them connect with the source of their life. We are teaching them that dignity does not come from money, possessions, or power, but from Ubuntu: I am because we are. The Real Inheritance Our African ancestors built with amazing traditional skills, working alongside the community. They didn’t need to import their dignity; they dug it out of the ground and shaped it with their hands. By looking down on “upcountry” life, we are closing our eyes to a sustainable, peaceful way of being. We are teaching our youth to chase a “Western model” of success that even the West is now trying to escape. The real question is: Are we proud of our inheritance? Or are we raising a generation that is “successful” on the outside, but spiritually bankrupt on the inside because they’ve forgotten how to use what they have? Let’s take pride in our roots. Let’s teach our children that the greatest luxury isn’t what you can buy—it’s the wisdom to appreciate what you already have.
Read MoreWhy I Traded the Rat Race for an Intentional Living Lifestyle
For decades, I ran the race the world told me to run. I lived in large, exciting cities. I worked hard in corporate and international organisations. I was “successful” by every modern standard. But inside, there was a constant, gnawing noise. Noise. Noise. Noise. It was in my head, around me, and eventually, in my blood pressure. My brain felt overwhelmed by the excess stimulation and the endless demand that “enough” was always just a little more than I already had. I realised my body wasn’t created for this level of chronic stress. Neither was yours. I spent years hoping life would just “calm down,” until I realised: Life doesn’t change. You have to change your life approach. In my 40s, I began the journey off the treadmill. Now, in my sixties, I have finally found what I was yearning for: a quiet, simple, off-grid lifestyle. I swapped the “Concrete Mask” for what I affectionately call my Mud Palace. The Wisdom of the Simple Life Choosing to live isn’t about “having less”; it’s about making room for more. When I decluttered my life from the world’s demands, I didn’t just find peace—I found these life-altering truths: Why We Make It Complicated Life is inherently simple, but we make it complicated to satisfy a “colonial hangover” of what success should look like. We build fireplaces we never light and balconies we never sit on, all while our inner selves are starving for connection—with nature, with family, and with God. I no longer have to have everything, and I don’t have to have it now. By God’s grace, I have learned to say a firm “no” to the rush so I can say a beautiful “yes” to the present.
Read MoreReclaiming Dignity in Kenyan Earth Building
This isn’t just a trend; it is a global shift. In the West, building with the earth is no longer ‘alternative’—it is a premium luxury. It is the choice of the visionary, the environmentalist, and the elite who pay architectural firms thousands of dollars to design ‘bespoke’ earthen sanctuaries. They call it innovation. Yet, here on our own soil, we do the opposite. We ‘poo-poo’ the very ground that birthed our ancestors. We dismiss our own sophisticated building traditions as ‘primitive’ or ‘backwards,’ rushing instead to bury ourselves in the suffocating heat of concrete boxes. We bankrupt our futures to buy materials that don’t breathe, while the West is busy rebranding our heritage as the pinnacle of 21st-century living. This is the colonial hangover at its most toxic: we reject the gold beneath our feet until a foreigner puts it in a gallery and calls it ‘Art.’ We see stone and cement as the only path to dignity, even when that path leads to soul-crushing financial, personal, and emotional burdens. Meanwhile, in the West, these traditional methods are celebrated as “Cob Houses”—unique, eco-friendly status symbols for the wealthy e.g.: Hardy’s Cottage (Dorset)A famous example of a traditional, picturesque cob and thatch home, once home to Thomas Hardy; Dingle Dell (“Cob Castle”): Featured on Grand Designs, this is a 650 square-meter, four-bedroom, six-bathroom house in East Devon, built using traditional cob techniques. This isn’t just happening abroad. Even here, on our own soil (Kenya), we see Westerners living in beautiful earthen homes that are admired as “artistic” or “rustic.” I know of a number of them, built by people from the West – mainly England. They are permitted the luxury of the earth because of the status we afford them, while we feel pressured to bankrupt ourselves for stone to prove we have “arrived.” It is a colonial hangover—a snobbishness in our self-perception that tells us our heritage is only high-class when a foreigner occupies it. As Africans, we are “the earth” people. Soil is etched into our ancestral DNA. Yet, in the pursuit of a Western model of success, we have been conditioned to look down on what was once ours. I see it everywhere: grand houses with sprawling gardens that no one sits in, wide balconies that remain empty, and ornate fireplaces that never feel the glow of a flame. These are not homes; they are architectural masks—expensive stages for a life that isn’t actually being lived. A Sanctuary, Not Just a Structure My home, which I call the Garden of Eden, was born from a childhood love of playing with mud. By using traditional building skills, I wanted to prove that our architectural heritage isn’t a step backwards—it is a sophisticated way to live in the 21st century. Living in an earthen home changes your relationship with the world. In a stone house, you are often walled off from nature, breathing in the silent gases emitted by industrial materials. In my home, the walls breathe with me. When the sun is scorching, the earth keeps the interior cool. When the night turns cold, the walls radiate the warmth they’ve stored all day. At night, I look through transparent roofing to watch the moon, feeling a sense of safety that no steel gate could ever provide. The “man-made noises” of hooting cars and city rush are replaced by the singing of birds and the whisper of the wind. It is a place of continuous worship; a sanctuary where I can finally hear my own heart. The Cost of Authenticity Choosing this lifestyle requires a conscious decision to value time over status. Many people visit the Garden of Eden and “exhale.” They tell me they wish they could live like this, yet they feel trapped—not by their bank accounts, but by the expectations of friends, family, and society. They are afraid of what people will say if they stop running the race. But here is what I have learned: The quickest road to dissatisfaction is to compare your life to others’. When you shed the “mask” the world asks you to wear, you stop performing and start living. Building with the earth didn’t just give me a roof over my head; it unearthed a way to live that is true, free, and deeply, beautifully simple. Join the Journey: Step Into a Space of Peace It is one thing to read about an intentional life; it is another to stand in a place where the world’s noise finally stops. Many of you have asked how to begin—how to shed the “mask” and start building a life that is truly yours. While the Garden of Eden remains my private sanctuary, I am opening a door for you to experience its principles in a setting just as sacred. This March, I am hosting an exclusive workshop at a serene retreat centre in Karen, Nairobi. Nestled in the quiet, leafy outskirts of the city, we will gather to explore: Space is strictly limited to maintain a quiet, reflective atmosphere. Claim Your Spot for the March Workshop: https://forms.gle/CmKiSWQRgWhdvUBc9 https://dtearthgardens.wixsite.com/dtearthliving | https://shiberoa.wixsite.com/shiberoscobandb | https://shiberoa.wixsite.com/shiberoakatsa
Read MoreWhat Mud Houses Teach Us About Our African Roots
In a city where concrete and status dominate, a few mud houses quietly challenge what we think we know about life, community, and success. Laughter, curiosity, and muddy hands tell a different story — one that asks us to pause, reflect, and reconnect with our roots. What can simple living teach us about who we are and how we belong? Soooo…..once upon a time, in 2006, I built my first mud home, in the midst of humongous houses in a leafy suburb just outside of Nairobi. These houses were a reasonable size, and a family of three lived in one of them. As my mud homes were going up, I had no end of curiosity…with some neighbours, I could see ‘thinking’ I had finally completely lost it!!!! I remember a friend came over with a newly married young couple, and as I engaged in conversation with the newlyweds, I happened to mention that I was planning to build more mud homes as B&Bs. I saw the look on the new wife’s face as she said indignantly…’ I could never live in a mud house. Hmmm…. I thought…. The other two became classrooms for a children’s holiday school, where they learned about their African heritage, which covered a wide range of topics. Sadly, I felt, not many children had ever been to their ’shags’, or entered a house built of mud, let alone seen or touched a cow! Milk came from a supermarket. I wondered how many ‘urbanite’ children play outside with mud, grass and make their own entertainment ‘things’. Children had a lot of very interesting questions, and I had to break a lot of misconceptions through pictures and my life experiences. The misconceptions they had of anything made of mud as ‘homes’ and toys, rural lifestyle and the people living in these rural environs were mostly negative. I couldn’t help but notice that there was an attitude of ‘we are superior’ to those upcountry, because of what ’we have’ and they ‘don’t’. We talked about the benefits of mud houses, also known as cob in the West, the cost of building and the different designs. By the end of the day, children were so much more informed and aware of mud houses. We need to give our children At the end of the holiday school, we made mud and grass houses. The children loved every minute of this outside play, and many didn’t want to go home! They left covered in mud with big smiles on their faces. It was a joy to see them so happy. Children’s attitudes towards others are very telling of the things they hear from their adult role models, and spending time with them was an eye-opener. This experience with the children made me wonder just how many parents expose their children to the ‘other side’ of their inheritance. Are we proud of our inheritance? Or have we closed our eyes to where we came from? Hmmm…. Returning to Who We Are — Together And in those muddy hands and laughter-filled moments, something deeper was unfolding — a quiet reminder of Ubuntu: I am because we are. When children reconnect with the earth, with heritage, with one another, they rediscover belonging. They learn that life is not built only with cement, screens, and status — but with community, humility, shared stories, and respect for where we come from. The discomfort some adults feel toward “mud houses” is not really about soil — it is about how far we have drifted from our roots. Many are caught in the design and development of stone houses – that’s development. All this is not about asking you to run back to the rural environs to build yourself a mud home. No, it’s about remembering where you have come from. Not looking down on those who live in these homes. Our African ancestors built these homes with amazing traditional skills, alongside the community. UBUNTU teaches that a person is shaped by community relationships, not by money, possessions or power. That dignity does not come from what we own, but from how we live together. And when we lose connection with our origins, we also lose something of our humanity and ourselves as a people. This is extremely evident in our society. Perhaps the real question is not whether we could live in a mud house. But whether we can relearn how to recognise and appreciate where, as a people, we came from. Let’s take pride in our African roots. And this story is not from the past alone. Today, I live in an earthen home — yes, right in one of the plushest suburbs just outside Nairobi. In a place known for concrete walls, high fences, and symbols of “arrival,” I chose soil, simplicity, and peace. Not because I could not afford otherwise, but because I discovered that life is richer when it is lighter, quieter, and rooted. This home has become more than a shelter. It is a daily reminder that we do not need to abandon our heritage to progress. That modern life does not have to mean disconnected life. And that healing — for individuals, families, and communities — often begins when we slow down and return to what truly gives life. Perhaps the future we are searching for is not ahead of us in endless striving, but behind us in wisdom we once knew — now reimagined for today. “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.” — Jeremiah 6:16 For more, visit: Self-build a Mud Home with a Twist. https://dtearthgardens.wixsite.com/dtearthliving/ushago-homestead-construction Ushago Down2Earth Retreat HomeKaren. Nairobi. Kenya https://shiberoa.wixsite.com/shiberoscobandb
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