They came in at 6am. On foot. On motorbikes. In groups. From different corners of Gatanga and nearby villages.
Over 500 young people, some with crying babies, some with torn notebooks gathered in a remote hall near Thika. Not for entertainment. Not for handouts. But for something they had only heard about in passing: digital skills.
Ngigi Ndung’u Foundation had organized the event, sponsored it, rallied for it. They had seen my videos on TikTok and reached out. They said, “Come speak to our youth. Teach them something digital. We’ll support with a small fuel token.”
So I said yes.
But the moment I stepped into the venue, I knew I wasn’t there to teach tech. I was there to spark fire.
The front rows were empty. You could feel it in the air; hesitation, fear, a quiet self-doubt that screamed louder than words. Not because they didn’t care. But because they didn’t feel worthy to sit at the front.
So I broke the pattern.
I took the entire fuel token and made an announcement: “The first ten people who will sit in the front row walks away with 200 bob.”
And still, they hesitated. That moment broke me.
Not because they didn’t want the money, many had gone without food the whole day. But because poverty does more than empty stomachs. It empties confidence. I asked again and one person strolled to the front and I immediately went to my wallet
I saw young mothers breastfeeding under the benches. I saw boys staring at the ground, afraid to be seen. I saw resilience wrapped in silence.
So I changed the script. I didn’t talk about digital tools or coding or AI. I talked about courage. About silencing that voice in your head that says you’re too rural, too poor, too unknown to do anything great.
I told them the truth that I, too, come from places like theirs. That Digital Moran is not about perfection. It’s about purpose.
After the talks, we broke into groups. Each speaker took a different path:
- Career guidance
- CV writing and job application
- Entrepreneurship
- And I took tech and how to thrive online.
But not tech from textbooks. I sat with them one by one. No rush. No slides. Just honest conversation. We discussed things like
- How to use WhatsApp for business.
- How to brand yourself with zero budget.
- How to leverage social media to attract buyers.
- How to believe in yourself again.
By the time we finished, it was 6:30pm. They were still there. No food. No complaints. Just hunger not for lunch, but for life. Others camped around my photographer who turned out to be a mentor. The just wanted to hold the camera, something to remind them that one day their dreams will be valid.
Nobody paid me. But I left Gatanga richer than I came.
I saw why Digital Moran must exist. It’s for villages like this. For boys who were told they’re failures. For girls raising children but still dreaming. For the ones who don’t sit in the front until someone tells them they belong there.
This is the work. This is the mission. And I’m not stopping.
