Not everyone you lift will rise—and sometimes, they pull you down.
When Njenga secured a job at a prestigious organization in Nairobi, it wasn't just a personal victory—it was an inspiration of hope for Gitithia. He became a gateway between the village and the outside world. Weekend after weekend, he returned to Gitithia, not just to rest, but to scout for young men who needed opportunities. He had a gift for spotting potential, and in no time, he connected villagers to jobs not only in Nairobi, but also in Eldoret, Nakuru, Mombasa, and Kisumu.
Njenga was loved and admired. To the young men, he was more than just a successful villager—he was a symbol of what could be achieved. And he wasn’t selfish about his success. He made it his mission to lift others as he rose. Every weekend, groups of energetic, hopeful young men gathered around him, seeking his advice and pleading for a chance to follow his path. And Njenga, with his network, found jobs for them in factories, offices, and even construction sites.
For a time, things went well. The young village men Njenga helped sent money back home, their families prospered, and the village seemed on the verge of transformation. The elders smiled with pride as the youth found footing in distant towns. But soon, cracks began to show. The lure of city life, with its bright lights and endless temptations, started to corrupt some of the young men. They were exposed to lifestyles their humble village beginnings couldn’t have prepared them for. Lavish lives demanded more than their salaries could afford, and soon, whispers of theft began to reach Njenga's ears. The same men he had helped began stealing from their employers—taking money, raw materials, equipment, stock, anything they could get their hands on to fuel their newfound hunger for wealth.
At first, it was one or two isolated cases, but soon it became a pattern. Some of these village sons were caught and imprisoned. News of their arrests trickled back to Gitithia, and with it came a growing resentment. The families of the imprisoned men, desperate to find someone to blame, turned on Njenga. He had taken their sons from the safety of the village, they claimed, and sent them into the arms of temptation. The fact that these men had chosen their paths didn’t matter; to the families, Njenga was responsible.
Soon, he became the enemy. The villagers whispered behind his back, and the once-hopeful young men now avoided him when he returned on the weekends. His good intentions had turned sour, and the very people he had sought to uplift now viewed him with suspicion and anger.
Njenga’s mission to help the village was cut short. He withdrew from his once frequent trips to Gitithia, preferring to stay in the city where he no longer faced the weight of blame. The story of Njenga, once a tale of hope and success, became a cautionary one. His name was spoken in silent tones, a reminder of what happens when village sons and daughters venture too far into the unknown.
The villagers learned a hard lesson, and soon, no one was eager to help each other secure jobs anymore. When opportunities arose, people kept to themselves, wary of the consequences of trying to uplift their own. The story of Njenga sent chills down the spine of anyone who thought of offering a helping hand. But the question remained: Who was really to blame? Was it the men who lost themselves in the heat of money, or was it Njenga, who had only tried to help? In the end, Gitithia was left divided, unsure whether to trust its own or the opportunities that lay beyond its boundaries.
