The Day My Curiosity Almost Got Me Disowned

"We have to move to Nairobi because of some unavoidable circumstances."That was how my mum casually announced the biggest plot twist of our lives one ordinary morning. No dramatic background music. No family meeting with juice and biscuits.

Just one sentence, and boom—our village life was officially over.My baby sister and I looked at each other. We were still children, and in our house, whatever Mum said became law. There was no democracy.

There were no debates. You couldn't even ask, "Why?" because the answer was usually a look that translated to, "Do you enjoy breathing?"So we packed our few belongings and moved to Nairobi.Now, if you've ever met me, you know one thing about me—I was born with curiosity levels that should have come with a government warning.

Nowadays I've become calmer, but back then? Ah! If there was a road, I wanted to know where it ended. If there was a gate, I wanted to know what was behind it. If I saw people walking somewhere, I immediately assumed they knew something exciting that I also needed to know.Nairobi, unfortunately, was the worst place for a child with that kind of curiosity.

The city was enormous. Cars everywhere. Buildings touching the clouds. Matatus painted in colors brighter than a rainbow. Vendors shouting from every direction. The smell of roasted maize mixing with exhaust fumes. It was loud, confusing, and absolutely fascinating.

Every single day, I'd stand outside staring at people moving around as if everyone had somewhere very important to be.One afternoon I thought to myself, "How hard can exploring be? I'll just walk around a little.

"Famous last words.I confidently started walking.Left.Right.Another right.Straight ahead.Another left because the road looked interesting.I admired buildings. I watched people bargaining. I stood for several minutes watching a man skillfully roast maize like he was performing surgery.At some point I realized something.Nothing looked familiar.I...