My name is Martin Ndegwa, and I grew up in Thika West, in a neighborhood where everyone’s struggles were on display. Life had never been easy. After losing my father at a young age, I lived with my mother, selling vegetables and doing small jobs to survive. Despite everything, I always had one strange habit: I laughed—even at the hardest moments. People called me crazy, foolish, or reckless.
One day, while sitting outside our small iron-sheeted house, counting the few coins I had left for food, my neighbor, Auntie Ruth, noticed me laughing quietly to myself. “Martin,” she asked, astonished, “why are you laughing at your problems? Everything around you is falling apart!” I simply smiled. I didn’t have the words to explain what I felt, and honestly, I didn’t know myself.…CONTINUE READING
