Author: Invo

By Shirley Mary Mzee.

Illustrative image: A young woman reflects on her choices, symbolizing the growing trend of child-free living among Kenyan women.

If you actively spend time on social media, you’ve likely encountered the term child-free, young women openly declaring their choice to never have children. While the topic often sparks heated debate, from solidarity and understanding to harsh criticism, it raises a vital question: what’s driving this shift in generational thinking?

On my late-night scrolls on TikTok, I encountered a video where a young woman stated one reason why she doesn’t want children: “Another reason why I don’t want kids is because of the trend of women not having kids and, after, that body transformation—I don’t want to alter my body physique.”

Her words were simple and personal, but the comment section was ablaze. Some women echoed her sentiment, sharing they too had no desire for children. Others dismissed her as “selfish” or “vain.” A few mothers chimed in with empathy, while some men and women hurled insults. This mixed reaction got me thinking, what’s behind this cultural shift?

Growing up in Kenya, I rarely saw women who were child-free by choice. If a woman didn’t have children, people whispered, questioned, or pitied her. Motherhood was not just expected; it was demanded. But now, things seem to be shifting. Women are making choices once unthinkable, openly saying, “I don’t want kids,” and standing by it. Could it be that we are entering a new age where women’s rights, voices, and autonomy are more respected than ever?

Many young women grew up as “second mothers” to siblings; cooking, cleaning, and caring from a young age. Could it be that after carrying that burden as children, some feel no desire to repeat the cycle?

Another factor could be the growing transparency around motherhood. For decades, it was wrapped in a veil of glamour, photos of glowing mothers and happy babies, with little mention of postpartum depression, financial struggles, or isolation. Today, social media has changed that. Women are more open about the highs and lows of motherhood, from pregnancy complications to permanent body changes. Could it be that this honesty is reshaping how young women perceive parenting?

Could it also be that some women simply don’t feel the so-called “maternal instinct” that society expects from them? Research shows nurturing tendencies aren’t universal, and lacking them is neither abnormal nor unnatural. In fact, a study of 75 young mothers (average age: 19) tracked their experiences over several months postpartum. The conclusion: there was no evidence of an innate maternal instinct. Instead, the mother–child bond strengthened gradually through caregiving, not genetics (PubMed, 2024). This challenges the belief that women are biologically destined to feel instant maternal love.

Meanwhile, others are simply acknowledging the weight of raising a child. Today’s generation is more financially conscious and realistic about the costs of parenting. According to the Kenya National Bureau of Statistics (KNBS, 2022), the average number of children per woman has dropped to 3.4, down from 6.7 in 1989.

Where does the church fall in this? Traditionally, the church has emphasized motherhood as a divine calling. Yet younger Christians are beginning to ask harder questions: must every woman be a mother to fulfill God’s purpose for her life? The debate reflects a broader shift, one where faith, personal fulfillment, and choice sometimes intersect and sometimes clash.

It is also worth asking: why does this trend seem more common among women than men? In my own experience, I encounter more young women choosing to remain childfree than men. Perhaps it is because men do not go through pregnancy, childbirth, or postpartum recovery, and so parenthood may appear less daunting to them. For women, the decision comes with higher stakes; physically, emotionally, and financially.

Ultimately, the rise in women choosing to remain childfree in Kenya and beyond cannot be pinned to a single reason. It may be parentification, greater transparency about struggles, lack of maternal instinct, or simply recognition that raising a child is a massive responsibility. Whatever the reason, the shift is that women now have a choice and they are exercising it.

 By Jemutai Too, 

Introduction 

In Nairobi’s bustling Central Business District, where thousands go about their daily lives, a young hawker known as Eli was shot by a police officer. He wasn’t protesting. He wasn’t violent. He was simply at work selling face masks near Moi Avenue. 

What happened next was captured on video and stunned the nation: a police officer aimed directly at Eli and fired. 

If this can happen in broad daylight, under the full gaze of the public, what happens when no one is watching? 

From Protest to Panic 

June 17, 2025, was a day of national unrest. Kenyans took to the streets to protest the suspicious death of blogger Albert Ojwang, who died while in police custody. Peaceful demonstrations quickly turned tense as officers in riot gear stormed the Nairobi CBD, determined to suppress the movement. 

Eli wasn’t among the protesters. He was simply caught in the crossfire. 

“He raised his hands and begged,” recalls Brian Mwangi, who captured the moment on his phone. “He didn’t pose any threat. But the officer shot him anyway.” 

Eli’s condition remains uncertain, but the moment has left an indelible scar on the nation. For many, it confirmed their worst fears about the unchecked power of the police. 

The Video That Shook the Country 

The footage that circulated online showed everything: an officer lifting his weapon, calmly aiming at an unarmed man, and pulling the trigger. Screams erupted. Onlookers scattered. The moment became a viral symbol of state brutality. 

If they can shoot someone like that with cameras rolling, imagine what happens where there are no phones, no witnesses? 

The video has sparked protests in other parts of the country, and the demand for police accountability has grown louder than ever. 

A Familiar Pattern 

Unfortunately, this isn’t a one-off incident. Over the past few years, Kenya has witnessed a disturbing pattern of police violence especially during public demonstrations. The deaths of protesters during the  2024 Gen Z-led protests remain fresh in the public memory. 

“Every time we raise our voices, the state responds with bullets,” says  a youth activist. “How many more must be shot before we see change?” 

Although the National Police Service often promises investigations, the outcomes rarely lead to meaningful reform. Suspensions are short-lived. Arrests are few. Convictions? Almost nonexistent. 

False Comfort in Familiar Statements 

Following Eli’s shooting, the Inspector General of Police released a statement condemning the officer’s actions. The officer involved has reportedly been arrested. However, many Kenyans have grown weary of such statements routine, vague, and lacking in transparency. 

For many citizens, especially the youth and the urban poor, trust in law enforcement is at an all-time low. They feel targeted, not protected. Controlled, not served. 

A Question That Haunts Us All 

Eli’s shooting has revived a painful conversation: What happens when there are no cameras? 

For every incident caught on video, how many are erased by silence, fear, and lack of evidence? How many mothers bury their sons with no explanation, no justice? 

We can’t keep treating these tragedies like accidents,They’re symptoms of a bigger problem a culture of impunity that lives inside our institutions.  

Conclusion 

We don’t know Eli’s fate. But we know what his shooting means for Kenya. It means our streets are not safe not for vendors, not for students, not for journalists, not for anyone. 

It means our systems are failing us not in secret, but in public. It means that unless we demand justice now, we will be mourning again tomorrow. 

Eli’s image wounded, unarmed, innocent is now etched in our national memory. The question is no longer if it will happen again. It’s when, and to whom. 

Because if they can shoot someone in full view of the country, then who’s next? 

Linkedin post link  

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 By: Zainab Faraj 

A robust healthcare system does not solely rely on well-designed structures but also on sustainable financial systems that ensure adequate resources are equitably utilized. Universal Health Care (UHC) hinges on the principle that all individuals should access quality health services without enduring financial hardship. However, achieving this ideal remains elusive, with the World Health Organization (WHO) estimating that nearly one billion people globally lack access to essential healthcare services. 

In Kenya, where access to healthcare is enshrined as a constitutional right, millions still face significant barriers to affordable treatment in both public and private facilities. This includes individuals with  Social Health Authority (SHA). These barriers perpetuate social inequalities, hinder economic growth, and undermine societal progress. 

Despite the Kenyan government securing significant loans from institutions like the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (IMF), the tangible benefits to citizens remain unclear. How has this influx of funds improved the healthcare system? A glaring disconnect exists between financial investment and meaningful outcomes. Citizens increasingly rely on fundraising initiatives to cover treatment costs. While urban populations may navigate social media and networks to mobilize support, rural communities remain largely excluded due to lack of access to technology, knowledge, or government connections. 

This trend highlights a systemic failure to address healthcare access equitably across the country. It raises critical questions about the effectiveness of governance, resource allocation, and implementation. Why can’t these funds be utilized to build a resilient health system that prioritizes equitable access to affordable, quality care? 

Politics remains a central driver of change in Kenya. Every year, nearly one million Kenyans fall below the poverty line due to healthcare-related expenses. Expanding healthcare access can alleviate this economic burden. However, this cannot happen without meaningful citizen engagement and social accountability. 

Citizen participation is critical in holding governments accountable and bridging the gap between public demand and government action. Yet, many Kenyans remain disempowered, unable to trigger recognition or action from their leaders. The lack of effective mechanisms for citizen engagement undermines the potential for transformative change in healthcare. 

Empowering citizens to demand action and fostering accountability at all levels of government are crucial. Social accountability involves more than transparency—it requires the government to actively respond to public needs. While transparency provides the data and tools to assess government performance, it is accountability that ensures action and results. 

Moving from transparency to accountability necessitates a coordinated approach. Transparency alone—whether in government expenditure, public health statistics, or policy announcements—does not ensure outcomes. Accountability requires the government to act on the commitments it makes. 

To achieve this, Kenya must adopt measures that use Data to Drive Accountability: Leverage data to monitor national commitments and hold leaders accountable for meeting them. Two adapt to Local Contexts,Tailor health interventions to address the unique cultural values, social norms, and governance challenges of each county and Promote Inclusive Engagement create platforms for citizen participation, especially for marginalized communities, to ensure their voices are heard. 

Foster Equity in Healthcare Access prioritizes policies that reduce disparities between rural and urban populations in accessing healthcare. Strengthen Political Accountability ensures that political leaders deliver on promises to improve healthcare systems and services. 

Ultimately, achieving universal healthcare in Kenya will require shifting from rhetoric to actionable accountability. Empowered citizens, transparent governance, and responsive leadership must work in tandem to close the gap between aspiration and reality. Only then can Kenya build a healthcare system that serves all its people equitably and sustainably. 

By Joel Mwendwa  

For years, Kenya has lagged behind in the expertise of music especially gospel music production that can compete and contend with the rest of the global music market. “We put out music but nobody listens because Kenyans consume foreigners’ product more than their own” they said. Many described it as though a dark cloud hung over the Kenyan Gospel music industry, but the narrative seems to be changing. 

With the light starting to shine on Kenyan artists, there has been a surge of music projects and releases in the past three years. Not just product but international standard product that is gaining global recognition. Seems like the dark cloud is rising after all. With the rise of artists such as Kestin Mbogo, Mike Manoa, Njoki Munyi, Jaque Gachiri, just to name a few, global attention has begun to shift towards Kenya and her gospel industry.  

You may ask, what could gospel artists in Kenya be doing differently now that they did not do before that is working for them? Well, I believe and according to my sources, the standard has generally been raised. The standard meaning, the work ethic and effort that goes into birthing a product that can be globally consumed has increased. What does that really look like?  

Before, artists did not believe in investing money into their product or rather, there was no money to invest into their craft in terms of paying for services and acquisition of equipment (lighting, screens, backline which consists of all the instruments that are used in a live performance etc.) They did the bare minimum which sometimes meant going to a producer who had a studio in one of the rooms of their house who would bear the burden that should be shared at least among 10 people. The producer would be the one to play the keyboard, add the drums, play the guitar, maybe get one or two people to add background vocals and still be the one to do the post production of the songs, all in the name of budgeting and ensuring that they take the lion’s share of what the artist decided to pay.  

Now that light has come and artists have been loosed from the shackles which so beheld them, projects now have teams that consist upwards of 20 people who could be volunteers or paid depending on their conviction or purpose in the team. “Doing a project now in form of a live recording to produce at least 6 songs requires a budget upwards of a million Kenyan shillings,” Minister PK said, “even though most of the times we do not have the money at hand, through wisdom we strategize partnerships and sponsorships that see the project through.”          Reverend Julian Kyula, Senior Pastor of RUACH Assemblies has been a great champion of the Kenyan Gospel ministers. He encourages fellow preachers to support their gospel ministers terming it as a season of collaboration between the Priests and the Levites/ Psalmists. As a show of support, he sponsored a Live Recording for his church worship team, R- Worship who have now become trendsetters in the industry from their music releases which are earning global awards for their work. 

This has been a turning point for the gospel industry as many now strive to do live recordings with the aim of glorifying God in excellence as well as having their product consumed internationally. 

The fruit of all this labor is that now the ‘Kenyan Sound’ is being consumed internationally with songs like Natamani nikuone by Kestin Mbogo being loved and adopted by Tanzania, It is Finished by Njoki Munyi becoming a Nigerian special among many.  

What a joy it is to be a witness as history is rewritten, seeing visions that some dreamt of long before come to life. The ‘Kenyan Sound’ is rising! 

By Tehila Namai 

Byline: In a world built on digital connection, a phone’s silence can be more unsettling than peace for a student. 

That sudden, dreaded silence. Not the peace of a quiet library, but the chilling absence of a notification from your phone after an M-Pesa transfer. Or maybe, the university portal email you never saw. In a world where our lives revolve around digital pings and alerts, the unexpected disappearance of these vital communications can hit even the calmest student hard. For us, staying connected isn’t just nice to have; it’s the hidden thread holding our academic, financial, and social lives together. 

Think about a typical university student here in Kenya. Our days are a constant juggle: lectures, assignments, part-time jobs, and trying to keep a social life. Right at the heart of all this are services like M-Pesa and solid network coverage. M-Pesa isn’t just for sending money; it’s how we pay for matatus, grab a quick meal at the local kibanda, send cash back home, or pool money for group projects. That SMS confirming a transaction isn’t just a receipt; it’s real peace of mind, proof that money went through, and a crucial record in a jam-packed day. When those messages suddenly vanish, even if the transaction itself worked, it throws everything into doubt: Did it actually go through? Am I stuck here without fare? Is my money safe? 

Beyond our finances, our entire academic world runs on digital channels. Lecture notes fly around on WhatsApp, assignment deadlines hit via SMS or the university’s online system, and group work happens in virtual spaces. Missing a key message, whether it’s a network hiccup or our messaging apps secretly filtering things out (which is a real pain for Android users), can have serious consequences. We could miss a deadline, make the wrong call on a project, or simply fall behind. All these small, digital snags add up, piling on stress, wasting precious time, and sometimes even costing us money. 

The recent issues with M-Pesa SMS delivery, especially for certain phone types or those using different messaging apps, expose a real weak spot in our daily lives. It means we have to constantly double-check balances and manually confirm transactions, adding an extra layer of worry to already busy schedules. While there are fixes, like digging through spam folders or switching back to basic apps, it feels like the burden shouldn’t just be on us, the users, to sort out what are, at their core, essential service problems. 

For service providers and our universities, this isn’t just a minor technical issue; it’s a clear sign that they need to understand how fundamental digital communication is to our well-being and our education. Investing in strong, reliable systems and making sure they tell us  

upfront if there are any problems  giving us clear instructions and easy ways to get help  isn’t a luxury anymore. It’s absolutely necessary.  

Ultimately, the silent phone isn’t just an inconvenience; it’s a glaring reminder of how much we depend on these digital connections that simply have to work. For students navigating the whirlwind of modern life, always being able to access vital digital services isn’t just about making things easy; it’s about creating a space where we can truly succeed, without the added weight of digital uncertainty. Our futures, in so many ways, rest on these invisible, yet incredibly important, connections. 

By Wambui Teresa Okudo  

A dark, persistent reality, Femicide. We lose a mother, sister or student to violence. The purpose of attacking or killing a woman because of their gender is an issue that demands immediate attention and a call to action. Over 500 women between 2016 and 2025 have been murdered across the country, not by a foe but by a relative or partner. The lives cut short and stories that follow paint a grim picture of the cost of this violence.  

Femicide materialises in different forms rooted form systematic gender inequality or cultural norms. Numerous cases tend to stem from partner violence where women face threats or dominance, economic hardships or imbalance, where women are more dependent on their partner, which can pose a window. Husbands, boyfriends, and relatives are known to their victims as perpetrators (Standard, 2025). Societal attitudes normalise blaming the victim. Public debate often shifts focus from the offender to the victims, their presence, location, or attire (Nation Media Group, 2024). 

However, individual stories, media reports and honest work from support groups help paint a picture. Public outrage comes from high and low profile cases, which serve as a reminder of the threats women face. These situations underscore the need for a shift in societal attitudes and norms to enhance law enforcement and strengthen legal frameworks. 

The collective calls to end femicide have echoed all over Kenya!! Image by FeministsInKenya/#TotalShutDownKE 

Activists chanted using slogans like #StopKillingUs, #EndFemicideKE. On January 27, 2024, more than 20,000 Kenyans marched in Nairobi, Kisumu and Nakuru demanding justice (ForumCiv, 2024). 

Kenya Femicide Protest: Image by BBC News 

Change Leaders and Anti Femicide Movement Image by Nguvu Collective 

The Power of Online and community engagement has emerged for change. An example is Usikimye, which means “Don’t be silent” in Swahili. The #Usikimye movement on Instagram is a platform for Kenyans to share experiences, demand accountability and raise awareness on anyone facing violence. The hashtag is used by allies and across social media to capture attention, action and get justice. 

Image/Logo by #Usikimye 

It is a platform where allies can engage with survivors who share their stories and find solidarity. It serves as a space for sharing updated information and personal stories related to GBV or femicide. They are amplifying the voices of victims that are surrounded by silence. This digital space actively highlights cases urging thorough investigations by authorities and campaigns for justice to guarantee that the offender is held accountable.  

In addition, from the shared posts, individuals who have similar experiences can connect through the comments or direct messages. #Usikimye fosters support breaking isolation that fosters trauma; this is a step towards healing survivors. The online platform or activism must be accompanied by actions which include support services for survivors, addressing the root causes through education. 

Image by Usikimye 

Femicide remains a silent epidemic in Kenya, over the lives of women. #Usikimye and the allies that have the courage and platform to speak offer a beacon of hope. These platforms are the key to the fight. By amplifying those who have been silenced and demanding accountability and justice. We should dismantle those who enable femicide or violence against women and have a union among the government, communities and the people to build a future where women live free from fear. 

   Image by Usikimye