“Monkeys, Mangoes, and Missteps: A Kenyan Tale of Wasted Potential”

Every morning, I wake up to the sweet aroma of ripe mangoes—ripe not just in theory but in their full yellow, luscious reality—dangling from a tree that I planted four years ago. You’d think I’d be feasting on nature’s bounty, right? Well, think again. The monkeys, my uninvited tenants, seem to have signed a long-term lease on the mango supply. They’ve enjoyed the fruits of my labor more than I ever have. And there I was, four years later, mango-less and monkey-mad.

As I left the house, the situation took another unfortunate twist. My car, which I can’t drive because I don’t have the “magic” PSV (Public Service Vehicle) license, sat smugly in the driveway, mocking me like the mangoes. What’s a standard driver’s license good for if you can’t use it to legally hustle for that daily bread? Here I am, a legally licensed driver in one of the most exciting cities in the world, Nairobi, yet still stranded because I lack the permit to make the car actually work for me. I have wheels but no ride. Life’s punchline, right?

And if that wasn’t enough irony for the day, I walked past my various parcels of land. Acres, just lying there, accumulating value, but not a single cent in my pocket. I mean, what’s the point of being called “the guy with lots of land” if it’s not translating into actual cash? It’s like being in a swimming pool but dying of thirst because you can’t drink the water. Meanwhile, I’m here hustling for a loaf of bread, while these lands fatten up in value for some distant, land-obsessed statistician.

So, what’s the solution to this ridiculous narrative?

First, I need to outsmart those monkeys. If they can enjoy my mangoes, why can’t I? Maybe it’s time to start harvesting at night or invest in an electrified fence. Heck, I could even sell tickets for “Monkey Mango Wars,” a reality show where the audience bets on whether I’ll win the mango battle.

Second, that car situation has to change. I don’t need to become a matatu driver, but I can use that car to start a delivery service or a shuttle for neighbors. And for that, I’ll get that PSV license. It might be an extra hurdle, but since I already own the vehicle, I should make it earn its keep.

Third, those acres of land can’t just be sitting there looking pretty. Maybe I can start leasing them out, grow some cash crops, or even create a “green tourism” spot where people pay to spend a day on “land they wish they had.” The options are endless if I stop treating the land like a trophy and more like a business opportunity.

In the end, the lesson is simple: mangoes, cars, and land are only as useful as I make them. Sitting back and admiring them won’t pay the bills. It’s time to turn the monkeys, the mangoes, the land, and even the car into a source of income. Because, quite frankly, the “land-rich, cash-poor” Kenyan narrative is getting old.