Viewing Kenya through a Lens of Humanity as a Photojournalist

As dawn breaks over the sprawling city of Nairobi, I load my camera into my weathered backpack. The city hums to life, vendors setting up their stalls, matatus honking in chaotic harmony. But my path today will not lead me to the familiar streets; it rarely does. Being a photojournalist in Kenya means constantly chasing the pulse of the nation—sometimes in joy, often in sorrow, but always with a story to tell.

A Nation’s Cry for Justice

July 25 2024 was a day to Occupy Parliament. A protest by Kenyan Gen-Z against corruption and poor governance. I stood among a sea of young faces, their chants echoing off the towering walls of Parliament. One voice caught my attention—a young man named Brian, barely 22, holding a placard scrawled with the words, “We Deserve Better.”

Brian’s story was one of quiet resilience. A university dropout due to unpaid fees, he marched not for himself, but for his younger siblings, determined they wouldn’t endure the same fate. Through my lens, I captured his raw defiance, his tear-streaked face framed against the backdrop of a nation demanding change.

The Drought That Stole Childhoods

In 2022, my journey took me to Ganze Kilifi County, where drought had reduced once-fertile lands to arid dust bowls. Under a sweltering sun, I met Aisha, a 12-year-old with cracked heels and hands that carried the weight of her family’s survival.

She guided me to their dried-up well, her voice a whisper of resignation. “We used to have enough,” she said, pointing to the parched earth. Aisha’s story wasn’t just of hunger but of stolen childhood—a heartbreaking portrait of resilience amid despair.

The image of her standing alone by that cracked earth still haunts me, a stark reminder of climate change’s merciless grip on Kenya’s vulnerable.

The Onslaught of Buzzing Locusts

When swarms of locusts descended in Northern Kenyan, Samburu, it felt biblical. Clouds of insects darkened the sky, devouring crops, animal Pasture, and hope alike. I met Kamau in Meru. A neighboring County, a father of three, standing helplessly as his maize field—his family’s lifeline—was stripped bare.

Kamau’s story was one of quiet desperation, but also of unexpected humor. “At least now I don’t have to weed,” he joked, a bittersweet grin spreading across his face. It was a moment of humanity in the face of nature’s fury, and I immortalized it—a single tear glistening on his cheek as the locusts swirled behind him.

When Floods Washed Away Lives

The flooding that followed relentless rains was unlike anything Kenya had seen in years. In Mathare, rivers of muddy water carved paths through homes, dreams, and memories. I found Jane, a mother of five, sifting through debris where her house once stood.

Jane held up a waterlogged photo of her wedding day, the ink smudged but her smile still visible. “This is all I could save,” she said, her voice cracking. Her story was one of loss, but also of unyielding strength.

As Jane and her children crowded into a temporary shelter, I couldn’t help but feel her sorrow and her determination to rebuild. Her resilience reflected the spirit of Mathare itself—unbreakable despite the odds.

A Nation Mourns Its Heroes

At the funeral of one of Kenya’s beloved athletes, Agnes Tirop, the air was heavy with grief and pride. Crowds gathered to honor a life lost too soon, their faces etched with sorrow. I captured the moment a young runner, clutching a Kenyan flag, knelt by the grave, a silent promise to carry on the legacy.

It wasn’t just a funeral; it was a collective mourning of what could have been. Yet it was also a celebration of dreams that transcended borders and inspired a nation.

Through the Lens of Empathy

Being a photojournalist in Kenya isn’t just about taking pictures; it’s about telling stories that matter. Each shot is a fragment of the human experience—a mosaic of joy, pain, resilience, and hope.

My camera has taken me to places where despair seems insurmountable but also where the human spirit shines brightest. From protests to floods, droughts to farewells, I’ve learned that every frame holds a story, and every story holds a lesson.

And so, as I shoulder my camera and step into another day, I remind myself: these aren’t just pictures—they’re the heartbeat of a nation, and it’s my honor to tell these stories.