Josphat Kimani

You don’t really think about reproductive health until something forces you to. Back home, things were not perfect, but they were familiar. You’d ask a friend, call your cousin, walk into a chemist and sort something quietly. No long process, no overthinking. You knew where to go, who to ask, how things move. Then you come here and realise… even something small needs a plan. You’re told, “book a GP.” Okay, but which one? Bulk billing? Private? Do you have Medicare? Appointment iko lini?...

It doesn’t come the way people expect. No big breakdown, no clear moment where you say, “okay, something is wrong.” It’s quieter than that. You wake up tired, but you still go. You do what needs to be done, work, home, calls, responsibilities, everything keeps moving. From the outside, you look fine. You’re functioning, you’re showing up, you’re responding to messages, you’re even laughing sometimes. But inside, things are just… heavier. Small things start irritating you more than they...

There was a time I used to sit with books for hours and still feel like nothing was entering my head. You know that kind of studying… you’re there, pages open, pen in hand, maybe even highlighting things seriously like a focused person… but if someone asks you what you’ve actually understood, unakaa blank kidogo. And you still feel tired. Like you’ve done work. That’s the trap. Most of us were trained to believe that time equals progress. The longer you sit, the more serious you are. So you...