Ithanga Broke Me, Then Built Me

We drove past hills, into valleys, across rough patches that barely qualified as roads. I got lost more than once. But something kept pulling me forward the promise that someone needed to hear what I had to say.

This was Ithanga, tucked deep in Murang’a County. Remote. Forgotten by many. Yet brimming with quiet potential.

The event, like before, was organized by Ngigi Ndung’u Foundation a movement led by a remarkable young man who sees the invisible and believes in the impossible. He had seen our work in Gatanga and invited us again.

I walked into the room. Roughly 200 young people had gathered. And within moments, the weight of their reality hit me.

Only three had ever stepped into college. Two had diplomas. One was still in university. The rest?
They were young but wore the heaviness of life on their faces.

The girls were mostly young mothers. The boys? Many had already started experimenting with drugs.
Most were form four dropouts. Some couldn’t follow along when I spoke in English.

Their dreams were boxed into roles they saw around them, matatu conductors, local DJs, bar workers. That was their horizon.

It was clear: we were not there to teach first. We were there to awaken.

So, just like in Gatanga, we restructured the day. We broke into small mentoring groups not to lecture, but to listen, challenge, and uplift:

• One group focused on personal development and mindset
• Another tackled entrepreneurship and practical life skills
• Another took on job readiness: CV writing, professionalism
• And I led the tech session but again, not code, not jargon but the idea that you can earn online, learn online, and grow beyond your geography. Trust me this was very hard. I only had to speak about social media.

There was no food. No allowance. Just sheer hunger to become something more. And they stayed. The whole day.

Some with babies on their backs. Some sitting on cold floors. Some having never heard the word opportunity used near their name.

Yet they stayed. And so did I.

By the time I started my four-hour drive back to Nairobi, I was running on empty physically. But spiritually, I was overflowing.

This wasn’t just a talk. It was a reminder. That this work, the work of Digital Moran is not about comfort. It’s about calling.

To show up. Even when unpaid. Even when unrecognized. Even when lost on dirt roads. Because in these villages are kings and queens disguised as dropouts.

Visionaries trapped in survival.

And if all they need is one voice to remind them they’re more than their circumstances then I’ll keep driving, keep speaking, keep showing up.

This is the path. This is the mission. And this is just the beginning.