Life. Seasoned with perspective.
“Life has a way of handing out responsibility before we feel ready for it, often in moments that demand growth, maturity, and grace. This story reflects on unexpected transitions, quiet lessons, and the strength found in embracing what comes next.”
Another Christmas has come and gone, and we are now peeking through the door of a brand new year. Once we cross over, many of us will marvel at how fast the year flew by. Time waits for no one, and suddenly all those sayings about early birds and missed chances begin to feel uncomfortably personal.
Truth be told, 2025 has been one of the toughest years I have experienced in a long while. The pressure came mainly from work and the quiet demands of personal growth. Still, despite the storms, I am closing the year standing. Stronger. Wiser. Grateful. That deeper story will come another day.
With age comes a strange promotion. Responsibilities you never applied for suddenly land on your desk. Recently, one such duty pulled me upcountry to participate in dowry negotiations. Yes, me. Life really has a sense of humour.
After all the Kids drama I shared in last week’s column, I set off for Ekedoli village in Vihiga County, accompanied by my secondborn daughter, my sister, and a niece. I love road trips. I did plenty of them in my youth, back when freedom was cheap and accountability optional. These days, disappearing without notice can earn you a cold house or worse, a serious marital inquiry.
Nothing prepared me for what this trip would unfold, including being handed the responsibility of a firstborn. Ironically, I am a lastborn. But here we were, watching family roles quietly rearrange themselves.
We left at eight in the morning from my place, which doubled as our meeting point. We picked my niece along the way and hit the road. Being only days to Christmas, we knew traffic would be heavy. I had even read a Kenya National Highways Authority (KeNHA) advisory on which routes to avoid. Like many stubborn Kenyans, I ignored it. My thinking was simple. ‘Today will be different’.
Nairobi to Nakuru was smooth sailing. With time to spare, we stopped for food and supplies. Spirits were high. Music was loud. Then we resumed the journey, and reality returned swiftly.
Just before Salgaa, a police officer waved me down. I had slightly exceeded the speed limit. I admitted fault and prepared myself mentally. The officer hinted at lunch. I politely declined the game and asked for mercy. Somehow, honesty worked. I was let off with a warning.
Five kilometres later, karma arrived.
Traffic came to a complete standstill. From that point through Sachangwan to Mau Summit, we crawled for four solid hours. A stretch that normally takes under forty minutes. A brief relieve followed, then another total lockdown at Kericho – Eldoret Junction. That is when I accepted defeat. I rerouted through Londiani, Muhoroni, Kisumu, and finally home. Thirteen hours on the road for a journey that usually takes six.
By the time we arrived, exhaustion had become a personality trait.
The following day was the main event. Two respected elders were already present. MwalimuStanley Mugallo and Mwalimu Edward Sagwa. Calm. Measured. Grounded. We sat with my elder brother and went through final preparations before the guests arrived.
Sitting there, it hit me that my role in the family was shifting fast. Wisdom is not loud. It is lived. Then came the announcement. Moving forward, my brother would officially assume the role of our father. Our parents are in heaven, and the responsibility of steering the family has rested on us. With that declaration came another surprise. I was now considered the firstborn.
The weight of it did not hit immediately. It landed when guests arrived and eyes turned to my brother and I. Every move. Every word. Every pause. Leadership is not declared. It is observed.
Through all the conversations, rituals, laughter, and seriousness, one thing stood out clearly. Grace carries you where strength cannot. None of us felt fully ready, yet somehow everything aligned.
As I drove back to the city later, tired but fulfilled, I reflected on the year. The pressure. The growth. The lessons. The quiet victories. Life does not always slow down for clarity, but grace meets you in the chaos.
As we step into the new year, I carry one truth with me. We are not always prepared for what life hands us, but we are always sustained by grace.
And truly, God’s grace is sufficient.
About the author:
Kibisu Mulanda is a media executive and strategic communicator with over 20 years of experience in television, NGO storytelling, and youth-focused content. He is the Acting Head of Switch Media Ltd and teaches media at the Kenya Institute of Mass Communication (KIMC). A Certified SIYB Trainer, he blends storytelling with strategy to drive social impact.
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