They Laughed When I Was Struggling and Called Me a Failure But the Same People Are Now Fighting Each Other Over My Success
I am Samuel Mwangi, and for a long time, my name was a joke in my own village. I grew up in Kangemi, Nairobi, in a single-room house with iron-sheet walls that shook when the wind was strong. Every morning, I left home with hope and returned with rejection. I tried selling clothes, repairing phones, even boda boda riding with a borrowed motorbike. Nothing lasted. People laughed when they saw me passing. Some shook their heads and whispered, “That one will never make it.” After a while, the laughter hurt less than the silence that followed.
I remember family gatherings where I sat quietly while others talked about promotions, land purchases, and trips abroad. When it was my turn to speak, someone would change the topic. Once, an uncle laughed openly and said, “Samuel, stop dreaming big. Accept your level.” Those words stayed with me. At night, lying on a thin mattress, I asked myself if I was truly a failure or just early. I did not have answers, only stubborn hope that refused to die.
