I grew up in Kaswanga, a tiny village in Kenya, with eight siblings. My father has two wives and 18 children in total.
My paternal grandfather died at a younger age and had only one child, my father. As an African man, my father felt it was his duty to continue his family's name, so he raised many children.
My father followed advice from the older men in the village and married two wives. In many African cultures then, having many wives is considered a form of wealth, similar to having many kids. My dad, being a family man, worked very hard to provide food on the table. He ventured into agriculture, and when I was growing up, I would barely see him at home. He was always on the farm since he left school. I picked up his value for hard work.
I was a young, vibrant, and intelligent man. I was first in my school classes since the third form (or grade). I was also a political student, and I sought elective positions in school.
In form three, something happened that changed my life. In my society, it was a growing norm that every home had a sibling(s) who studied and graduated at the university level; however, no one had yet done so in my extended family. Other families looked down on us, despising and hating us.
I had all the pressure from my family because I was studying for the national examinations. One day, my father sat under a mango tree in our compound and called me. I rushed over to him. When I reached him, I saw mixed emotions on his face.
He said, "Son, I know you have pressure, now that you are studying in a younger school, where performance has been compromised, but remember no situation is permanent, everyone must struggle to succeed."
My father's words motivated me; I left the place with tears but with the real urge to make it.
Most people pointed fingers at my dad, saying his children were academic dwarves. These accusations were not true; my siblings, though moderate in academic achievement, had attained middle college (similar to community college).
The family counted on me to break the glass ceiling and bring the family honor. It was a lot of pressure. Either play around and land in middle college, exposing my father and family to more ridicule, or beat the odds, achieving high enough scores on the national exams to go to university, a very competitive process. Indeed, I decided it was a battle worth fighting!
I missed my admission to join a national school earlier in my life due to no school fees to afford me in such schools. I landed in a low-performing school in the village, and no one expected any of those students would go to university.
I had a strong passion for being the first in my family to attend university, but I had my doubts. Sometimes it is healthy to doubt yourself. Doubt can motivate you to work hard to realize yourself. I reframed the doubt as strength and resolve, and it kept my spirits up, my soul steadfastly fixed on the horizon. Yes, I will make it regardless of the odds.
I would listen to speeches from my mentors like President Obama, who talked about hope in the face of uncertainty and difficulty, what he referred to as the audacity of hope. Listening to this triggered my mind to capture what Dad said. I felt refreshed, saw hope, and promised to walk ahead.
The villagers ridiculed my father and our family, and I would become despondent over that, but that has changed. I refused to give up; I was more hopeful than ever. I had courage, a newfound strength, and I tapped into it. To go beyond societal norms, I would have to bend the trend.
Brian is a born chronicler and a social change activist who embraces learning and empowering innovative social development change worldwide. Brian hails from Kisumu, Kenya.
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