Before I ever made my first sale…
Way before I had a logo, a business name—or even confidence in
what I was offering, I had fear. Not the loud, dramatic kind.
No.
The quiet, creeping kind.
The kind that sits with you inside a Matatu and whispers:
“What if this fails?”
“What if they laugh?”
“What if you lose everything… again?”
I had no college certificate.
Only a D+ in KCSE from a little-known secondary school in
Ukambani, Yatta Secondary School.
Still, I had this crazy passion for my business idea—and a few gift bag
samples with me.
I chose Moktar Daddah Street for my first day of marketing.
There I was, squeezed inside a Matatu at Railways Bus Stage, samples
in hand.
The city was buzzing—honking cars, hawkers shouting, preachers
calling people to heaven.
But inside me? Hell.
I froze. My heart was pounding.
Getting off that Matatu felt harder than starting a business.
I had done the work—created the packaging, rehearsed the pitch.
But fear had me hostage.
Then, as if on cue, the driver played “Try Again” by Israel Vibration:
If at first you don't succeed, try again, try again, yeah…
[If at first you don't succeed, try again, try again, yeah
Time will bring you (you, you) your reward
Try again, try again
Cause in this life, survival is the key (yeah)to all creatures great and small
Mankind right down to the flea
It's the price of living which we've got to pay.
Try again (try again) x2