“Don’t Tell Anyone Your Next Move,” My Mother Warned — I Ignored Her, and That One Mistake Nearly Destroyed My Life
I grew up in Kisumu, in a quiet neighborhood near Manyatta, where news travels faster than the lake wind. My name is Daniel Otieno, a boda-boda rider turned small trader with big dreams. My mother, Mama Achieng, raised me alone after my father died. She was a woman of few words but deep wisdom. Whenever I shared my plans loudly, she would shake her head and say, “Daniel, don’t tell anyone your next move.” I laughed it off. I thought silence was for people without ambition. I was wrong.
In 2022, I saved every shilling from my rides and started a grain business at Kibuye Market. I worked with my childhood friend Brian Ouma and a cousin, Sammy Odhiambo. Business grew fast. I began talking—too much. At the market, at funerals, even in matatus, I spoke about a big supplier from Eldoret, about profits, about my plan to open a store in Ahero. People clapped. Some smiled. I felt important. I did not notice the silence behind those smiles.
Trouble came quietly. My supplier stopped picking calls. Rent for my stall suddenly doubled. County officers appeared weekly with new demands. Then Brian disappeared with a large payment meant for maize. I could not sleep. Debts piled up. I felt betrayed and ashamed. My mother called me one evening from Nyamasaria and said softly, “My son, this is what I feared. Too many ears, too many eyes.” That night, my chest felt heavy, and fear sat with me like an unwanted guest.
