For many years, our family lived under a silent cloud of pain, betrayal, and loss. The land my late father worked so hard for — the land that fed us, raised us, and built our identity — had been snatched from us by powerful grabbers. These were not small people. They were influential, connected, and feared in our area. Whenever the matter was mentioned, people only whispered, “Hiyo shamba ilichukuliwa, hamtaipata tena.”
But deep in my heart, I refused to accept defeat. I knew my father’s spirit would never rest as long as strangers were illegally occupying what belonged to us. However, the truth is that the battle almost broke me before it finally shaped me.…CONTINUE READING
