Dreams That Started in That Small House

We grew up in a small house in Githurai 45—a house so modest that even space had to be shared like a treasured possession. It stood humbly among many others, its walls thin but full of warmth, its roof shielding us from the rain and the world outside. Inside, life was woven together in laughter, whispered dreams, and the quiet hum of resilience.

There were five of us—my father, mother, my two brothers, and me. My older sister was away in boarding school, her presence a fleeting gift whenever the school gates opened. But even then, she never slept in our home. Space was a luxury we could not afford, so she stayed at my auntie's house, just a few streets away. Yet, in that small space we called home, we learned the art of gratitude.

Meals were simple but always enough. We passed plates around, never counting portions but always counting blessings. On cold nights, we huddled close, not because we had to, but because love made warmth feel richer than any blanket could. We took turns at the small study table, where dreams were scribbled in borrowed notebooks under the glow of a flickering bulb.

Githurai was alive with stories, told in the shouts of matatu conductors, the scent of maandazi from the roadside stalls, and the songs of street preachers who turned pavements into pulpits. It was a place where struggle and ambition walked side by side, where mothers carried baskets of vegetables on their heads and fathers came home with tired hands but hopeful hearts.

It was in that small house that we learned to dream—not in grand, golden fantasies, but in quiet, determined whispers. We dreamt of classrooms where we would sit without having to share a single desk, of homes where our sister would finally have her own bed, of futures where we would give more than we had received.

And so, from that little house in Githurai 45, we carried our dreams out into the world, wrapped in the lessons of gratitude, resilience, and the unshakable belief that no space is too small for a great beginning.

WILL WITH THE TELL...

William Etale Olang'