I recently came across a question posed by a Kenyan who wanted to hear from fellow Kenyans living abroad, particularly those residing in the United States. The question was simple, yet it carried considerable weight. He asked, "For my Kenyan friends and followers living in America, what do you intend to do once you clock 65 years?"(Wahome Thuku, October 1, 2026)
I found the question interesting because it touches on an issue many Kenyans living in America would rather not discuss openly. We are often so occupied with the business of settling down, working, paying bills, sending money home, supporting relatives, and pursuing the American dream that we rarely pause to consider what happens when our bodies can no longer sustain the demands of our ambitions. We celebrate getting into America, but how many of us have a retirement plan that makes sense in the American environment?
I would like to attempt an answer, not necessarily from a financial expert's perspective, but from what I have observed among Kenyans who have grown old in this country. Let me begin with an uncomfortable truth. At 65, in many employment environments, you are no longer considered an attractive candidate for physically demanding work. Your experience may be impressive, your qualifications may be unquestionable, and your wisdom may be invaluable, but employers are often more interested in what your body can deliver than what your mind knows. This is particularly true in the kind of jobs that many immigrants find themselves doing.
I recently heard a Gen Z manager discussing the possibility of employing an older Kenyan. His condition was rather interesting. He said, "Provided the chassis is okay, I will hire him." By chassis, he was referring to the person's body. In other words, he was not particularly interested in how old the person was, provided the body could withstand the demands of the job.
That statement may sound humorous, but it reveals something worth thinking about. In some workplaces, your body is your greatest qualification. You can be 65, 70, or even older, but if you can lift, walk, bend, clean, assist patients, arrange shelves, and remain on your feet for long hours, you are still employable. The moment your chassis begins to fail, however, your opportunities become limited.
This is the reality facing many older Kenyans in America. Some are employed in caregiving facilities, looking after elderly Americans who may be younger than themselves. Others work in stores, supermarkets, cleaning services, and other physically demanding occupations. They wake up early, travel to work, spend hours attending to other people's needs, and return home exhausted.
You will sometimes hear them talk about burnout. Their backs hurt, their knees are troublesome, and their bodies are asking for a break. But what options do they have? Bills do not retire simply because the person paying them has grown old. Rent does not understand arthritis, and grocery prices do not reduce because someone has worked for thirty years.
This brings me to another uncomfortable observation. In America, if you are not working and do not have sufficient financial resources, you can quickly become dependent on someone else. The American system is structured around employment, productivity, and financial independence. Of course, there are social support systems, retirement benefits, and other forms of assistance, but navigating life without a reliable income can be difficult.
Even parents who come to visit their adult children sometimes find themselves taking up childcare responsibilities. A grandmother who thought she was coming to enjoy time with her grandchildren may discover that she has become the household nanny. She prepares meals, picks up children, washes dishes, and looks after babies while the parents go to work. Before long, what was supposed to be a visit becomes an assignment.
There is nothing wrong with grandparents helping their children. In fact, it can be a beautiful expression of family love. The problem arises when assistance becomes an obligation and the older person has no opportunity to enjoy retirement. Some grandparents are working harder in their children's homes than they ever did in their own homes back in Kenya. But what happens to those who decide that they no longer want to work?
There are government-supported programmes and residential facilities for older people who qualify for assistance. Some elderly Kenyans have already found themselves in such facilities. Depending on eligibility and the particular programme, accommodation, meals, and some personal support may be provided. Such arrangements can offer relief to people who can no longer manage independent living.
I have observed that retirement income can also be a serious challenge. Social Security benefits vary depending on a person's employment history, earnings, and the age at which they begin claiming. For some retirees, the monthly payment is reasonably comfortable. For others, it is barely enough to meet basic expenses. When rent, food, utilities, transportation, and medical expenses are considered, the money can disappear quickly.
Consequently, some older people find residential care or subsidised senior housing more practical than attempting to maintain an independent household. In certain facilities, accommodation and meals are catered for, while residents retain some money for personal needs. However, these arrangements depend on eligibility, the type of facility, and the available support. They are not necessarily the dream retirement most people imagined when they first arrived in America.
There is another side of growing old in America that deserves attention: relationships and companionship. Among some older Kenyans, you will hear the expression "wamefugana." It is a rather interesting way of describing people who have separated from their original marital partners and established new relationships. Some older men are living with younger women, while some older women have also found younger companions. These relationships sometimes raise eyebrows, particularly when people suspect that financial assistance, immigration benefits, accommodation, or other personal interests are involved.
You may find an older man being looked after by a younger woman, with each party having something they expect from the arrangement. The man may enjoy companionship and assistance with daily responsibilities, while the woman may benefit from financial support or other opportunities. Similar arrangements can exist in the opposite direction.
Whether such relationships are genuine, transactional, or a mixture of both is not always easy to establish from the outside. We should also be careful not to assume that every relationship involving an age difference is motivated by money. Nevertheless, these arrangements raise questions about loneliness, ageing, companionship, and the circumstances that bring people together.
Interestingly, older women are not necessarily sitting back and watching life pass them by. Some have developed their own social arrangements and companionship networks. Among friends, you may hear coded expressions such as "For Monday, for Tuesday, for Wednesday, for Thursday, for Friday, and for Saturday, Sunday is church day." The days are assigned their own meanings, and those familiar with the code understand what is being communicated.
It may sound amusing, but beneath the humour lies a serious subject. Growing old does not automatically eliminate the desire for affection, intimacy, companionship, and human connection. People may retire from employment, but they do not necessarily retire from wanting to be loved or appreciated.
This is why we should stop imagining that everybody who reaches retirement age is waiting quietly for death. Older people still have social lives, ambitions, interests, relationships, and personal desires. They may have grey hair and grandchildren, but they remain human beings with feelings and needs.
Now, let us return to the original question: What do Kenyans in America intend to do when they turn 65? Some people may be thinking of returning to Kenya. They imagine spending their retirement years in the village, enjoying the warmth of home, eating traditional food, reconnecting with relatives, and living a slower life. It is a beautiful picture, but is it a realistic one for everyone? I would argue that many will not return.
The question is not simply whether they miss Kenya. The more important question is: What exactly are they returning to? Some left Kenya many years ago. Their parents may have passed away, their childhood homes may have changed ownership, and the relatives they once knew may have moved on. Some sold their land to finance their journey abroad. Others left behind unfinished family disagreements, financial obligations, or relationships that have become distant with time.
For such people, Kenya is still home in memory, but perhaps not in practical terms. They may visit occasionally, attend family ceremonies, spend holidays, and enjoy the company of relatives, but permanently relocating is another matter.
There is also the question of the lifestyle they have become accustomed to. After spending decades in America, adjusting to a different healthcare system, infrastructure, security environment, and social arrangement may not be as straightforward as they imagine. Even those who have land and houses in Kenya may discover that retirement requires more than owning property. It requires a reliable support system, accessible healthcare, and enough income to sustain daily life.
And let us not forget the younger generation. They are observing what the older generation is experiencing. They see parents and grandparents working long hours, struggling with physical exhaustion, and sometimes depending on their children for accommodation and support. They are learning from these experiences, consciously or unconsciously.
Consequently, many young Kenyans may also choose to establish their permanent lives in America. They may visit Kenya, but the idea of returning permanently may not appeal to them. Perhaps one in a hundred will seriously consider going back, while the rest will find ways of making their lives work where they are. But here is where I believe the original question becomes even more important.
The problem is not necessarily that Kenyans are growing old in America. Growing old is a natural part of life, and there is nothing wrong with choosing to spend one's later years in another country. The problem is that many people are planning their lives around the present without giving sufficient attention to the future.
We spend years pursuing employment, buying vehicles, building houses, sending money home, and supporting people. We measure success by the number of years we have survived abroad, the properties we have acquired, and the people we have helped. Yet, how many of us are setting aside something that will sustain us when we can no longer work?
Perhaps the most dangerous assumption is that our children will automatically take care of us. Children grow up, establish their own families, acquire responsibilities, and face financial pressures of their own. The America that provides opportunities for our children also demands their time and resources. They may love us deeply, but love does not always translate into the ability to provide everything we need.
We must therefore begin thinking about retirement long before retirement begins. We should understand our Social Security benefits, consider savings and investments, plan for housing, understand healthcare arrangements, and establish realistic expectations about family support. Most importantly, we should not allow our entire future to depend on the continued strength of our bodies.
There is a question I would like every Kenyan living abroad to consider: If your body refused to work tomorrow, would the life you have built still sustain you? That question may be more important than asking what we intend to do at 65.
America can give us opportunities, but it does not promise us an easy old age. It can reward hard work, but it cannot guarantee that we will remain physically capable of working. It can provide social support, but such support comes with eligibility requirements and limitations. And while we may spend our productive years helping others, we must remember that we, too, will eventually need help.
Perhaps the greatest achievement of living abroad should not be reaching retirement age with a collection of stories about how hard we worked. It should be reaching that age with enough preparation to enjoy the years that remain.
So, to the Kenyan who asked what his friends in America intend to do when they clock 65, I would say this: Some will continue working because they have no alternative. Some will retire and depend on their savings and benefits. Some will move into assisted living or other senior arrangements. Some will return to Kenya, while others will remain in America. Some will depend on their children, and others will establish new companionship arrangements. But one thing is certain: We are all ageing, whether we have a retirement plan or not.
The American dream should not end with a worn-out chassis, an exhausted body, and the realisation that we spent our best years preparing for everybody else's future except our own. Perhaps it is time we started preparing not just to live in America, but also to grow old in America.
I found the question interesting because it touches on an issue many Kenyans living in America would rather not discuss openly. We are often so occupied with the business of settling down, working, paying bills, sending money home, supporting relatives, and pursuing the American dream that we rarely pause to consider what happens when our bodies can no longer sustain the demands of our ambitions. We celebrate getting into America, but how many of us have a retirement plan that makes sense in the American environment?
I would like to attempt an answer, not necessarily from a financial expert's perspective, but from what I have observed among Kenyans who have grown old in this country. Let me begin with an uncomfortable truth. At 65, in many employment environments, you are no longer considered an attractive candidate for physically demanding work. Your experience may be impressive, your qualifications may be unquestionable, and your wisdom may be invaluable, but employers are often more interested in what your body can deliver than what your mind knows. This is particularly true in the kind of jobs that many immigrants find themselves doing.
I recently heard a Gen Z manager discussing the possibility of employing an older Kenyan. His condition was rather interesting. He said, "Provided the chassis is okay, I will hire him." By chassis, he was referring to the person's body. In other words, he was not particularly interested in how old the person was, provided the body could withstand the demands of the job.
That statement may sound humorous, but it reveals something worth thinking about. In some workplaces, your body is your greatest qualification. You can be 65, 70, or even older, but if you can lift, walk, bend, clean, assist patients, arrange shelves, and remain on your feet for long hours, you are still employable. The moment your chassis begins to fail, however, your opportunities become limited.
This is the reality facing many older Kenyans in America. Some are employed in caregiving facilities, looking after elderly Americans who may be younger than themselves. Others work in stores, supermarkets, cleaning services, and other physically demanding occupations. They wake up early, travel to work, spend hours attending to other people's needs, and return home exhausted.
You will sometimes hear them talk about burnout. Their backs hurt, their knees are troublesome, and their bodies are asking for a break. But what options do they have? Bills do not retire simply because the person paying them has grown old. Rent does not understand arthritis, and grocery prices do not reduce because someone has worked for thirty years.
This brings me to another uncomfortable observation. In America, if you are not working and do not have sufficient financial resources, you can quickly become dependent on someone else. The American system is structured around employment, productivity, and financial independence. Of course, there are social support systems, retirement benefits, and other forms of assistance, but navigating life without a reliable income can be difficult.
Even parents who come to visit their adult children sometimes find themselves taking up childcare responsibilities. A grandmother who thought she was coming to enjoy time with her grandchildren may discover that she has become the household nanny. She prepares meals, picks up children, washes dishes, and looks after babies while the parents go to work. Before long, what was supposed to be a visit becomes an assignment.
There is nothing wrong with grandparents helping their children. In fact, it can be a beautiful expression of family love. The problem arises when assistance becomes an obligation and the older person has no opportunity to enjoy retirement. Some grandparents are working harder in their children's homes than they ever did in their own homes back in Kenya. But what happens to those who decide that they no longer want to work?
There are government-supported programmes and residential facilities for older people who qualify for assistance. Some elderly Kenyans have already found themselves in such facilities. Depending on eligibility and the particular programme, accommodation, meals, and some personal support may be provided. Such arrangements can offer relief to people who can no longer manage independent living.
I have observed that retirement income can also be a serious challenge. Social Security benefits vary depending on a person's employment history, earnings, and the age at which they begin claiming. For some retirees, the monthly payment is reasonably comfortable. For others, it is barely enough to meet basic expenses. When rent, food, utilities, transportation, and medical expenses are considered, the money can disappear quickly.
Consequently, some older people find residential care or subsidised senior housing more practical than attempting to maintain an independent household. In certain facilities, accommodation and meals are catered for, while residents retain some money for personal needs. However, these arrangements depend on eligibility, the type of facility, and the available support. They are not necessarily the dream retirement most people imagined when they first arrived in America.
There is another side of growing old in America that deserves attention: relationships and companionship. Among some older Kenyans, you will hear the expression "wamefugana." It is a rather interesting way of describing people who have separated from their original marital partners and established new relationships. Some older men are living with younger women, while some older women have also found younger companions. These relationships sometimes raise eyebrows, particularly when people suspect that financial assistance, immigration benefits, accommodation, or other personal interests are involved.
You may find an older man being looked after by a younger woman, with each party having something they expect from the arrangement. The man may enjoy companionship and assistance with daily responsibilities, while the woman may benefit from financial support or other opportunities. Similar arrangements can exist in the opposite direction.
Whether such relationships are genuine, transactional, or a mixture of both is not always easy to establish from the outside. We should also be careful not to assume that every relationship involving an age difference is motivated by money. Nevertheless, these arrangements raise questions about loneliness, ageing, companionship, and the circumstances that bring people together.
Interestingly, older women are not necessarily sitting back and watching life pass them by. Some have developed their own social arrangements and companionship networks. Among friends, you may hear coded expressions such as "For Monday, for Tuesday, for Wednesday, for Thursday, for Friday, and for Saturday, Sunday is church day." The days are assigned their own meanings, and those familiar with the code understand what is being communicated.
It may sound amusing, but beneath the humour lies a serious subject. Growing old does not automatically eliminate the desire for affection, intimacy, companionship, and human connection. People may retire from employment, but they do not necessarily retire from wanting to be loved or appreciated.
This is why we should stop imagining that everybody who reaches retirement age is waiting quietly for death. Older people still have social lives, ambitions, interests, relationships, and personal desires. They may have grey hair and grandchildren, but they remain human beings with feelings and needs.
Now, let us return to the original question: What do Kenyans in America intend to do when they turn 65? Some people may be thinking of returning to Kenya. They imagine spending their retirement years in the village, enjoying the warmth of home, eating traditional food, reconnecting with relatives, and living a slower life. It is a beautiful picture, but is it a realistic one for everyone? I would argue that many will not return.
The question is not simply whether they miss Kenya. The more important question is: What exactly are they returning to? Some left Kenya many years ago. Their parents may have passed away, their childhood homes may have changed ownership, and the relatives they once knew may have moved on. Some sold their land to finance their journey abroad. Others left behind unfinished family disagreements, financial obligations, or relationships that have become distant with time.
For such people, Kenya is still home in memory, but perhaps not in practical terms. They may visit occasionally, attend family ceremonies, spend holidays, and enjoy the company of relatives, but permanently relocating is another matter.
There is also the question of the lifestyle they have become accustomed to. After spending decades in America, adjusting to a different healthcare system, infrastructure, security environment, and social arrangement may not be as straightforward as they imagine. Even those who have land and houses in Kenya may discover that retirement requires more than owning property. It requires a reliable support system, accessible healthcare, and enough income to sustain daily life.
And let us not forget the younger generation. They are observing what the older generation is experiencing. They see parents and grandparents working long hours, struggling with physical exhaustion, and sometimes depending on their children for accommodation and support. They are learning from these experiences, consciously or unconsciously.
Consequently, many young Kenyans may also choose to establish their permanent lives in America. They may visit Kenya, but the idea of returning permanently may not appeal to them. Perhaps one in a hundred will seriously consider going back, while the rest will find ways of making their lives work where they are. But here is where I believe the original question becomes even more important.
The problem is not necessarily that Kenyans are growing old in America. Growing old is a natural part of life, and there is nothing wrong with choosing to spend one's later years in another country. The problem is that many people are planning their lives around the present without giving sufficient attention to the future.
We spend years pursuing employment, buying vehicles, building houses, sending money home, and supporting people. We measure success by the number of years we have survived abroad, the properties we have acquired, and the people we have helped. Yet, how many of us are setting aside something that will sustain us when we can no longer work?
Perhaps the most dangerous assumption is that our children will automatically take care of us. Children grow up, establish their own families, acquire responsibilities, and face financial pressures of their own. The America that provides opportunities for our children also demands their time and resources. They may love us deeply, but love does not always translate into the ability to provide everything we need.
We must therefore begin thinking about retirement long before retirement begins. We should understand our Social Security benefits, consider savings and investments, plan for housing, understand healthcare arrangements, and establish realistic expectations about family support. Most importantly, we should not allow our entire future to depend on the continued strength of our bodies.
There is a question I would like every Kenyan living abroad to consider: If your body refused to work tomorrow, would the life you have built still sustain you? That question may be more important than asking what we intend to do at 65.
America can give us opportunities, but it does not promise us an easy old age. It can reward hard work, but it cannot guarantee that we will remain physically capable of working. It can provide social support, but such support comes with eligibility requirements and limitations. And while we may spend our productive years helping others, we must remember that we, too, will eventually need help.
Perhaps the greatest achievement of living abroad should not be reaching retirement age with a collection of stories about how hard we worked. It should be reaching that age with enough preparation to enjoy the years that remain.
So, to the Kenyan who asked what his friends in America intend to do when they clock 65, I would say this: Some will continue working because they have no alternative. Some will retire and depend on their savings and benefits. Some will move into assisted living or other senior arrangements. Some will return to Kenya, while others will remain in America. Some will depend on their children, and others will establish new companionship arrangements. But one thing is certain: We are all ageing, whether we have a retirement plan or not.
The American dream should not end with a worn-out chassis, an exhausted body, and the realisation that we spent our best years preparing for everybody else's future except our own. Perhaps it is time we started preparing not just to live in America, but also to grow old in America.
