Transcript

DARING TO HOPE | The Moth Mainstage LIVE from Nairobi

From The Moth · Episode page · Watch on YouTube

· 1 h 47 min · 11,753 words · 112 timestamped sections

This is the full, timestamped transcript of "DARING TO HOPE | The Moth Mainstage LIVE from Nairobi", an episode of The Moth published November 1, 2025 (1 h 47 min, about 11,753 words). It mentions 10 people, works and ideas, including Evelyn Kibuchi, Brian Turyabaji, Gad Peter Shamaki, The Moth Global Community Program, Nairobi.

What this episode is about

The event features an evening of inspirational storytelling and live performances, highlighting the talents of Kenyan icon Willis Chimano and creating a vibrant atmosphere filled with music, enthusiasm, and audience interaction. The host, Adelono, sets the stage for uplifting narratives that encourage hope and connection among attendees.

Key takeaways

  • Storytelling: the universal language we all need—it's the empathy app we never knew we were missing.
  • Forget your phone—you can't tweet your way to understanding someone's heart; listen instead.
  • Daring to hope is not just a theme—it's a full-time job for storytellers and listeners alike.
  • In a world of filters, real stories remind us that authenticity beats a carefully curated Instagram feed.
  • Gathering to share stories transforms strangers into a family—talk about the best social network!

Who speaks in this episode?

What is discussed, and when

  1. – 10:00: Willis Chimano
  2. – 20:00: Brian Turyabaji, Uganda, The Moth Global Community Program
  3. – 30:00: Evelyn Kibuchi, Nairobi, Kenyata National Hospital, World TB Day
  4. – 40:00: Evelyn Kibuchi, World TB Day
  5. – 50:00: Willis Chimano
  6. – 1:10:00: Willis Chimano
  7. – 1:20:00: Panina Koncho, Willis Chimano, Uganda
  8. – 1:30:00: Nairobi
  9. – 1:40:00: Gad Peter Shamaki

Notable quotes from "DARING TO HOPE | The Moth Mainstage LIVE from Nairobi"

  • Welcome to the mod and kindly put your hands together for the awardwinning global Kenyon icon Willis Chimano.
    about Willis Chimano · at
  • Each and every storyteller you're going to hear from tonight, including myself, are all graduates of an incredible program at the Moth, which is the Moth Global Community Program. And what this.
    about The Moth Global Community Program · at
  • Pneumonia is a disease which kills close to 1 million children every year mostly in the low resource settings. And I had quit my job as a telecom engineer to focus on an…
    about Brian Turyabaji · at
  • I arrived Nairobi and went straight to Kenyata National Hospital.
    about Nairobi · at
  • The following day which is 24th of March is the day we commemorate the world international TB day. Educa and I were both speakers at the event. So she had come so that we can do the final touches.
    about World TB Day · at
  • Saying I was shocked does not describe the emotions that I went through. I was devastated.
    about Evelyn Kibuchi · at
  • Way back in 2009, I graduated from the medical school and qualifi I was I qualified as a midwife.
    about Panina Koncho · at
  • Please welcome on stage Gad Peter Shamaki.
    about Gad Peter Shamaki · at

Who and what is mentioned in this episode?

People

  • Evelyn Kibuchi — Person · Storyteller (speaker) · 4 mentions · first at
    Second featured storyteller; TB advocate recounting the death of her friend Lucetta and highlighting systemic gaps in care and the long-term complications after TB treatment.
  • Brian Turyabaji — Person · Storyteller (speaker) · 3 mentions · first at
    First featured storyteller; shares a personal story about entrepreneurship, family expectations, and a near-missed wedding while pursuing funding for a pneumonia-detection innovation.
  • Gad Peter Shamaki — Person · Storyteller (speaker) · 3 mentions · first at
    Final featured storyteller; human-rights activist describing repeated pregnancy loss, family pressure, and perseverance leading to eventually having children—tying directly to the theme 'daring to hope.'
  • Willis Chimano — Person · Musical performer (featured artist) · 5 mentions · first at
    Provides live musical performances that frame the event and reinforce themes of freedom/healing; also briefly answers the host’s 'what makes you feel brave' prompt.
  • Panina Koncho — Person · Storyteller (speaker) · 3 mentions · first at
    Featured storyteller in the second half; a Ugandan midwife recounting dating a colleague who was secretly married and the professional/personal fallout during a delivery.

Concepts & topics

  • The Moth Global Community Program — Concept · Program · 1 mention · first at
    A program by The Moth that teaches advocates how to use storytelling through workshops to push for change.

Places & events

  • Nairobi — Place · Setting · 6 mentions · first at
    The city where parts of the stories take place, including the hospital visit and the protest.
  • Uganda — Place · Setting · 4 mentions · first at
    The country where Brian Turyabaji's story about his sister's wedding and his entrepreneurial journey takes place.
    I was working with an NGO and a human right organization, the League for Human Rights, married to my beautiful wife.
  • Kenyata National Hospital — Place · Setting · 2 mentions · first at
    A hospital in Nairobi where a significant part of Evelyn Kibuchi's story takes place.
    There at the Kashi department on a stretcher there lay my friend Lucetta.
  • World TB Day — Event · Event · 2 mentions · first at
    An event commemorated globally, mentioned in the context of Evelyn Kibuchi's advocacy work.

Full transcript with timestamps

Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the mod and kindly put your hands together for the awardwinning global Kenyon icon Willis Chimano.

Let me see your hands. Oh Susanna I hope you're happy now. I see you flexing on the ground with your sponsor. Susanna [singing] I hope you're happy now. I see you change your skin and your hair is longer now. Yeah. Yeah. None of my business and I see you in London. Silicon on your shaking what your doctor gave you on your Susanna. Hello. Hello. Hello. [singing] Somebody loves you. Come on. Let me see your hands up. You can get up if you want. Now it's the beginning. Uh-uh. Hey, up your seats, everybody. Woo! Ah! Uh-huh. Don't be shy now. We're just starting.

Come on. Hands up. Oh yeah yeah yeah. Oh yeah yeah yeah. If you know the song, sing it with me. Come on. Oh no. Hello. Hello. Hello. Somebody loves you. [singing] Hello. Hello. Hello. Somebody loves you. Hey. Hey. Y'all look so beautiful.

Thank you. Are you clapping for me? Are you clapping for Chimano? How's about we give Chimano another warm round of applause. And maybe we we sing out Sanjay one more time just so he hears us and feels the love. One, two, three.

Ah, hello. Hello. Ah, yes. Yes. Yes. You guys look so wonderful. Oh my goodness. It's so wonderful to be spending this evening with you. My name is Adelono and I'm going to be your host tonight. It is my absolute pleasure to stand and sit by you as we listen to some incredibly inspiring stories this evening. Are you ready?

But before we do anything, I want you to get your phones out. Everybody get your phones out. Maybe you could come take the mic.

Do you have your phones on? Could you turn on the torch? Hey, I can see the iPhones cuz you know the iPhones have have a specific torch. Then I can see the Google Pixels. Then I can see the Samsung songs and others. Okay, put your your phone really high because we want to make sure that a Oh god, that looks so good. All right, now we're going to take a family photo cuz now you're officially part of the moth family. And when you hear me say three, two, one, everybody yell out moth. The moth. Okay, can we do that?

Three, two, one. Love it. And now that I know your phone is in your hand, please turn it off. All the way off. The reason I'm saying that is because you are about to listen to some very inspiring stories and we're also going to be recording all of these stories to share with the rest of the world. So, we don't want your phones to interrupt anything. I hope that made you feel guilty enough to turn it all the way off. But as an NGO, the Moth storytelling workshops and the Moth podcast and our live events like this one tonight exist to inspire everyday people like you and I to create empathy by sharing and listening to true stories. Don't you feel like the world needs more of that?

Yeah. So, we're doing our part to make sure that this exchange of stories that are lived experience build a world a world where we can feel a bit more connected to each other and have a bit more empathy, which is another thing I think the world needs more of. So, I want to first give a round of applause to everybody who is in the house tonight. So, this one is for you. Clap for yourselves first. And the next people that I want to clap are the ones who have never been to the moth before. This is your first time. Oh wow.

This is incredible. Welcome to the family. Oh my goodness. Can we get another round of applause to those who listen to the Moth Podcast? Yeah. Ah, the official cool kids. All right, so if you want to be cool like us, you have to start listening to the podcast, please. Now, if you've never been here before, you're in for a ride and a treat. You're going to listen to incredible storytellers today who are sharing with you parts of their lives, their lived experiences without cheatnotes. The only person who's allowed to have any cheat notes is me. Okay? and we're going to listen to three stories. Then we're going to take a breather for you to tell all your friends who couldn't make it here today that they're missing out. And then we'll come back in and listen to two more stories. Does that sound like a plan?

Great. Okay. So, I want to bring back my very good friend. We've been doing this moth thing for a long time together, David Rac. Please give him a warm round of applause as he comes back on stage. He's our beautiful, beautiful, beautiful violinist who can play absolutely anything. Should we make him freestyle? No, no, no, no, not tonight. Um, but he also is has a very important job. He is our timekeeper. So, each of the storytellers who are going to come on stage today are going to have about 10 minutes to share with you their stories. Okay. Now, as they inch closer to the 10 minute mark, David, our timekeeper, will remind them and just say, "Hey, you're getting a bit too close to 10 minutes." And this is what he's going to play.

But sometimes, you know, you can really get into a story and forget everything around you and maybe pass the 10 minute mark. So, he'll have to switch it up, right? So, if that happens, this is what David's going to play. We think that should work. We think that should work. But you're all here tonight because I think you truly believe not only in the power of storytelling, but in the theme, which is daring to hope. And I feel like this is something that the entire world right now needs more of. Right. Yeah. Yeah. And so tonight we're going to celebrate the courage that one needs to hope.

We're going to celebrate and take in the resilience that one needs to hope. We're also going to share in the lighthearted moments that one needs to hope and also the lessons as well. So if you're ready for the stories, please can I hear a warm round of applause?

Each and every storyteller you're going to hear from tonight, including myself, are all graduates of an incredible program at the Moth, which is the Moth Global Community Program. And what this does is it teaches advocates how to use storytelling through workshops and use our personal stories to push for change, make a better world, and spark empathy. So if you look at your program, you have the bios of each and every storyteller who is going to come on stage. So, I'm not going to bore you by reading what's already in your hands, but I did have a very interesting question for our storytellers.

So, when I asked our first storyteller what makes you feel brave, he said, whenever he manages to pay his rent on time. Please welcome Brian Turyabaji.

In Uganda, when a girl is about to get married, the process usually begins with a giveaway ceremony where the bride's family formally hands her over to the groom's family. And this is normally followed by a wedding ceremony which happens like a week or so after. So my sister's wedding was the first big function we were holding at home in over 30 years. And me being the little young brother, the whole event felt deeply emotional for me because it brought back all the little childhood memories like how she used to boss me around and I pretended not to care.

At that point, I was 25 years old and I just quit my job and dead set on becoming an entrepreneur. My dad was already on the edge. First of all, from the giveaway ceremony, now the wedding logistics, and now his son willingly quitting a job which had just ripped his salary. To him, it was like watching someone trade a luxury car for a wheelbarrow and just smile about it. For more employment was his love language. So when I told him that I was quitting my job, the whole thing felt like I was joining a cult. And my mother, she was just quietly worried. My siblings were split. Some thought I was just being reckless while others thought I was just going through quarter life crisis, which I think wasn't entirely wrong.

So imagine with all this tension if I had to tell my dad that I had a trip to South Africa right in the middle of the wedding week. I figured he would treat it out as another act of rebellion. But I wasn't just being dramatic. Pneumonia is a disease which kills close to 1 million children every year mostly in the low resource settings. And I had quit my job as a telecom engineer to focus on an innovation that is anonymia detecting jacket that could help in averting most of this death by alerting the health workers when it is too early.

But when the opportunity to meet with a potential funer in South Africa came up right in the middle of the wedding week, it put me at crossroads. I could be the reliable groomsman for my sister's wedding or I could take this once in a lifetime opportunity to attend a meeting which would advance my invention. So what did I do? I decided to do what a typical 25-year-old would do. I decided to do both. So I secretly boarded that flight to South Africa while I was pretending to be actively involved in the wedding preparations via text.

And while in South Africa, the meetings were very productive but also very exhausting. I mean I was all in on this new health tech. this being a new invention and me being like new into the market, I knew that moments like these were the definitive moments for my business to take off. So when the pitching was done on the last day as I was casually moving out of the hotel to check out, the founder casually asked they were like, "Uh, would you want to spend an extra evening here?" Well, at 25, the word free evening at the hotel meant, good beddings, fluffy towels, and most importantly, the free breakfast buffet.

So, this was a no-brainer for me. I was in. And besides, this was a Thursday. The wedding was going to be on a Saturday, so I had a lot of time almost. So, I thought the next day, I ate my breakfast just like a king. pancakes, more pancakes, and whatever everything that the buffet could offer. I had timed everything perfectly to finish my breakfast and just make it in time for my flight. But 5 minutes before my Uber could arrive, I got a text. Hey, an accident. So, I quickly panicked and had to look for my phone and I was in to order for the next Uber that I could get.

Miraculously, it arrived and I was in for my journey to the airport. Things were all looking promising until I noticed I couldn't check in online for my flight while I was heading to the airport and I started panicking. My only hope was to find airlines counter still open. As soon as I reached the airlines counter, I was met by this airlines officer who with zero emotion told me that I was 5 minutes too late. 5 minutes? I begged. I pleaded nothing. Instead, he pointed me to the rebooking desk and told me that I even had to pay a cancellation fee. And on top of that, I would have to go the next day.

Reality started kicking in. I could miss my sister's wedding. And now, for those of you unfamiliar with African geography, the distance between Johannesburg to Campala is not your usual weekend trip. It's about 60 hours drive. So, even going by road was not an option. And at that point, I was officially at a risk of missing my sister's wedding. And remember this is someone who grew up with me. She helped me with upkeep when in boarding school. She helped me survive the teenage chaos. On top of that, he had asked me to be a groomsman on her wedding. But now I was nowhere at BC. Yet he was about to walk down the aisle. My father was still angry at me because I had quit my banking job to focus on what he called those jackets.

And to my family, I was always the reliable, humble child. I was the worst person they would expect to pull off a cross border disappearance act just in the middle of the wedding week. And remember all this time I was pretending to be active involved in the wedding preparations via text and I realized I couldn't call anyone. Not my sister, not my father. I was just completely on my own. So I panicked and I just reached out for my phone and had to order for the next cheapest and the quickest flight that I could get. I'm saying cheapest because I didn't have enough savings either way. So I had to know what to play within.

And as soon as I'd gotten my flight, which I likely got, I went through the immigration cues. But when I had gone through and was waiting for the flight to take off, I just double check this cheapest ticket which I had bought. And that's when I noticed that this ticket had a 10-hour layover in Tigar before heading to Uganda. At that point, I almost gave up. I went into the flight. I knew it was all informed whoever I was in touch with without any hope. And as soon as that we had reached Kali, I decided to cut sleep because I had no hope of reaching home in time. And I settled to sleep on those airport chairs which I think were clearly made by someone who hates human beings.

Sleep was just impossible. But in the middle of that whole confusion, an idea came into my mind. What if I grab a bus from Kali to southwestern part of Uganda? I could reach in time. So with all the determination, I quickly rushed through the airport, the airport and airlines officers who miraculously let me through the airport formalities and let me exit. And like a miracle of miracles, I arrived in the wedding venue the next day, 15 minutes before it started.

Dusty, hungry, and purely running on adrenaline, I rushed the nearest barber shop to make work on my hair as the groomsman. And as soon as I opened the door, there he was, my dad, seated calmly in a chair, getting a light trim like he had all the time in the world. He looked at me in the mirror and he asked, he's like, "Hey, you where are you coming from?" I'm like, "Dad, South Africa." Long story. He's like, "So you went to South Africa without telling me just in the middle of the wedding week. Everyone was busy and for you just doing your own things."

At that point, I grabbed a comb from the count and tried to be heavily invested in my sidebands. The baba even tried to laugh but tried to hold his laughter in all that. And all this time I knew that this was just a start of more trouble to come. And just before the baba could brush off the last piece of hair from my neck, I got a text from my sister and went like, "Hey, we couldn't get you in time for rehearsals and we had to scrap you off the groomsmen list." At that point, I was heavily disappointed. Not only because I was not going to be a groomsman anymore, but my whole entire dressing plan was hinged on the groomsman suit. And now I had nothing formal to put on for the wedding ceremony.

But it was too late. So I decided to end the church with whatever I was putting on and the church ceremony was going on. And when the ceremony was done, that's when we went out for the official photos. And it dawned on me when I looked down onto my t-shirt and I realized that what I was putting on proudly screamed, "I love free Wi-Fi.

There was no way I was going to join my family's my sister's official family photos with such a tie as the only evidence that they had attended the wedding." And in that whole moment, the pancakes felt like a betrayal on a plate. But had made it had made it for the wedding. And much more than that, we were able to attract the funding. And that funding was able to help us advance our invention. But because he can now truly see the impact of what my invention is creating in the community, he no longer calls them those jackets, but he now invention.

Please give Brian another warm round of applause. And next time you're at a wedding and you see someone in a t-shirt, please give them grace. You do not know how far they've come from. Okay. Incredible story. Incredible story. Um, is anybody ready for another story? Yeah. Yeah. So, when I asked our next storyteller, "What makes you feel brave?" She answered, "When she knows she has a fat bank account." Please welcome Evelyn Kibuchi.

I remember the day like it happened yesterday. It was on the 24th of 23rd of March 2018. I was driving from Nasha. I received this distress call. The caller on the other side sounded very panicky. Eene, when you get to Nairobi, head your way straight to Kenyata National Hospital at the casualty department. I panicked. I am not a medical doctor. Neither had I left any patient or anyone who was sick. I am a TB advocate. Why would any patient need my attention? I exhilarated. I arrived Nairobi and went straight to Kenyata National Hospital.

There at the Kashi department on a stretcher there lay my friend Lucetta. I had known Lucetta for about a decade. I had met her when she was taking when she was getting treatment for tuberculosis. She had suffered some form of tuberculosis that had resisted the regular treatments. She had to endure so much. She had to endure treatment which involved 180 injections. That's one injection per day for 6 months. This was coupled with a cocktail of tablets which were amounting to about 17 tablets that's per day for two years. And she had overcome all that. So why was she lying on the stretcher today?

Apparently Lucetta had collapsed when she was coming to my office. She actually collapsed just outside my office. She traveled all the way from Meu. That's about 250 kilometers away from Nairobi to come and see me. The following day which is 24th of March is the day we commemorate the world international TB day. Educa and I were both speakers at the event. So she had come so that we can do the final touches on our speeches and preparations for the day. When she collapsed, some people rushed her to Kenya National Hospital which is just a few meters away from my office.

I looked at Lucetta. She was very cold. Her eyes were as white as a sheet of paper. Her skin was very pale and she had difficulties breathing. I took a second look at her and I knew I needed to do something to save her life. I ran to the nearest doctor I could see and in desperation I told him doctor you need to save this lady's life looks at me tells me look behind you there's a whole long um line of patients who are even more sick than your friends you have to wait until her turn comes that was around around 7:30 a.m.

and minutes turned into hours. And even at 10 p.m., no doctor had seen Rosetta. By then, she had started coughing. She was coughing big lumps of blood and even some blood was coming from her nose. And every passing minute was making me more desperate. At around midnight, that's when Lucetta Stan came to be seen by the doctor. The doctor comes very calmly and tells me we have to follow the procedure. The procedure involves we do the blood work, we do x-rays so that we can see the treatment that we're going to give your friend.

I told them, I told the doctor, "No, I know what she's suffering from, and she does not need all those tests that you want to administer unto her. What she needs right now is oxygen." The doctor again calmly tells me, "Young lady, if you knew where your your friend was suffering from, you could have treated her instead. Could not have brought her here." That hit me like a thunderbolt. the longer they were going to take to treat her was making her situation worse. Fast forward, they went ahead and did the blood works and did the X-rays which ate into so much time. Eventually, they told me we going to admit her in an isolation room which was very very cold.

When she was taken there, I went to see her and Lucetta, she held my hand, she squeezed it, showed me, "Evelyn, this time I don't think I'm going to make it." I told Aluceta, "You cannot afford not to make it. We have a very big assignment the following day, and you have to be there." With those words, I hugged her and I told her, "See you tomorrow." I drove home and arrived at the house at around 100 a.m. As soon as I got into the house, I received the most heartbreaking call. Evelyn, we've lost her. We've lost Lucetta.

Saying I was shocked does not describe the emotions that I went through. I was devastated. How could I lose Lucetta? Afraid I had known for over 10 years. A friend that I always ran to whenever I had some work and I needed someone who could talk about her experience with tuberculosis. And how was I going to explain to the audience the following day who are expectantly waiting to hear Rosetta's journey with tuberculosis that had resisted drugs. How was I going to break the news? [sighs] The morning came and the hall was full just like this.

There were many people. the members of parliaments, donor representatives, TB community, civil society representatives, the entire TB fraternity was in the room. I was the first speaker. Lucetta was going to be the second. When I stepped on the podium, I was very nervous. How was I going to speak? I was still in disbrief about her death. I stepped on the podium and I told the audience, "We are not going to be having Lucetta speak." Pointing at the seat where Lucetta would have sat, I told them, "We lost her." this early morning, 24th of March, on the day that she was supposed to be celebrating her triumphants over the devastating effects of drug resistance, drug resident TV.

I told the audience, I have so much that I wanted to talk about today, but I'm not going to talk about it today. I'm going to keep it aside. I'm going to talk about Lucetta. Lucetta did not die from tuberculosis. She died from the lung complications that emerged from the long struggle with drugresistant tuberculosis. It was bad enough that she died on this day that we commemorate World TB Day. What a contradiction. From that day, every 24th of March when the world is commemorating world TB day, I always remember Lucetta.

And it's always a stark reminder that TB treatment does not end with the last pill. There's life after the last pill. to Lucetta. Continue sleeping in peace and I'll continue doing the work where you left. Thank you.

Thank you so much Eivelyn not only for the work that you do but for sharing with us the legacy of Lucetta. That was very very powerful. So we only seem to hear a particular person through his musical instrument but I think it would be nice to hear his voice. Right. So I have a question for you, Raak. What makes you feel brave? And I can share my microphone with you. Um, what makes me brave is when I found out that uh everyone in the world is guessing, then my guess is just as good. I love I love that answer because it's very true. It's very very true. But I think we have time for one more story before we go into our intermission.

And when I asked our next storyteller what makes her feel brave, she said when she's in a safe space with people who know that it is okay to be vulnerable. Please welcome Caroline on Caroline. My mother started one Sunday afternoon after the traditional meal of rice and stew. You are too assertive for a girl. You say what you feel, how you feel. You're not a boy. I don't want you to bring shame and disgrace to this family. Look at faith. She got pregnant and she brought shame to the family. If any boy touches you, you will get pregnant. And if you get pregnant, not in this house, in my mind, I'm like, "Mom, I don't want to get pregnant. I want to fall in love.

I don't want to have babies like you. What was mom thinking? Eight children. No, I'm not cut out for babies. I'm cut out for love. You see, I'm 14 going to 15. And my friends in school, Kate and Diamond, already had boyfriends and they've had their first kiss. I don't have any. And I'm privileged to read the letters their boyfriend write to them. And that increased my frustration. Can you imagine? My younger sister now has a boyfriend. I stumbled on the note the boyfriend wrote to her, perfumed as usual. And my sister is now looking down at me because of my inability to have a boy.

All the love stories I read and the movies I watch about love further frustrated me. And I remembered we are a people of faith. I need to pray and fast so that God will give me a man. Not only giving me a man, God should give me flesh in the right curves so I'll be able to attract men. But the what my mom told me kept ringing in my ears. Don't leave boys alone. Leave boys alone. But no, I love boys and I want the boys to love me. Is that too much to ask? And so I STARTED MY PRAYER AND FASTING. I prayed and I fasted and my energy was going low.

Hunger have caught up with me. My mom looked at me. I said, "Good. You're getting quiet for a girl." Uhhuh. And in my heart, I said, "No, mama." She said, "The Lord is working through you." "No, Lord is working through me. I need a boy." And I started getting skinnier and skinnier and skinnier. And the boy's further ran away. Not even a look. Even Fei, the boy in my class I had a crush on, started going out with a new girl in our class. What? How dare that girl come to OUR SCHOOL AND WHY MY CLASS? This was my frustration.

And one day during our geography lessons, after the lessons, it was time for lunch. So we went to we went to play and my friend Kit as usual said, "Hey Caroline, come." And she showed me another card that her boyfriend wrote to her. No. And I looked at the card and I just imagined, "Dear Caroline, but it was not Caroline. It was dear Kate." No. At that point, I've had it enough. I didn't care. It was the rainy season and the field was full of mud. I fell on the floor. I I became hysterical and I was rolling on the floor. I need a man.

I need a boy. I need a man. Any anything male blue yellow anything. Give me a boy. Tall, short, fat, slim, I need a boy. My friend Kate was shocked [snorts] looking at me. I didn't care. Other students saw what was happening and some of them thought, "Oh, she's had an injury." And they were coming close. AND SOME WERE LAUGHING at me. I did not care. I just needed a boy. Oh, thanks to my good friend Kate. She raised me up, took me to the school tap where I had to wash my uniform. I looked like a cat that was removed out of the water. I had to spend two extra hours in school for my uniform to get dried and then to think of what to tell my mom for coming home late.

Guess what? 4 days later, heaven smiled on me. It was in the middle of the economics class and Kate whispered, "Caroline, a boy is interested in you.

My boyfriend got you a boyfriend. This boy is so handsome. Those words were sweet music to my ears. I wanted to ask her more, but they were interrupted by the teacher. And she said, "Guess what? We are meeting him in two days. Those were the longest two days of my life." I started getting ready. I washed my uniform. I ironed them. The lines I put on my skirt is enough to kill a cow. I brushed my teeth a 100 times. I was ready for my first kiss. And then the day came. We had to sneak out of school because the boy is not in our school.

But there was a problem. How do we leave um the school because the security will be there. I told them, "Guess what? We are jumping the fence. Jumping the fence, the tall fence. Watch me." And so I took a climb and I jumped the fence and I fell like a pack of cats. It was a humpy dumpy fall. I had wounds and injury but I didn't care. You take anything for love. The walk to the house was very long. It was 1 hour 30 minutes. We didn't have transport, so we had to walk. But I didn't care. I was going to meet the love of my life. Midway into getting there, Kate looked at me and said, "There's another problem." I said, "What was it?" She said, "We're meeting them at an uncompleted building." Uncompleted building? Yes. Well, you can find love in strange places.

Let's go. And so we went. We came to the uncompleted building. It was dilapitated. The walls were falling down. It smelled of poop, fungi, and algae. I could see rats running around. The grasses were so long, and I imagined snakes to be there. But I didn't care. I did a quick check. I smelled my breath. Awful. But I was ready. I had a mint in my pocket. I put it in my mouth. I was ready for my first kiss. I started rehearsing, trying to get some ascent, you know, to boost my self-esteem. And then I met him. Charles.

He was tall. He was fair. He was handsome. Kate needed to apologize. She didn't do justice to the description of Charles. He had blue eyes for a Nigerian guy. He was wearing brown pants and a white t-shirt which has been fed from so much washing. His beards were carved in the most fashionable way. and he looked at me and said, "Hello, baby." A those were the sweetest words I've ever heard. And I said, "Shily, hi." And he said, "You look beautiful. I want you to be my girlfriend. I love you." At that point, I was about to faint. It was too much to take in a day. I had to support myself from the building and one hand on his shoulders. He was looking at me lovingly. I was looking at him shyly.

It was about to happen. My first kiss. The magical moment is here. I just heard freeze. Your hands on your head. And Charles pushed me. I fell. Only in time to turn and see Charles running away. I saw three policemen. They were running after Charles. They caught Charles, handcuffed him. and said, "We are going to the police station." Police station. Oh my goodness. I looked at one of the elderly policemen and I said, "Sir, please help me, father. Help me. This is my first time. I don't know this guy." He said, "No, you are going to help us in the investigation."

Investigation. Now, you see, I did not get pregnant, BUT I'M BRINGING A BIGGER SHAME TO MY MOM.

I looked at him again and I begged him, "Father, help me." He said, "We I'm not your father. Your father will definitely come to the police station to take you today." I prayed again. I said, "God, can you hear my prayers?" And God answered me. I looked at him. I said, "Daddy, please, I don't know this guy. This is my first time." And he looked at Kate and Diamond and he asked them, "Is it true?" And they said, "Yes." And he said, "You should go." And I ran and I went home kissless, boyfriendless, sad, traumatized heartbroken.

That tragic moment is a secret I've kept. I'm just sharing it with my Kenyan friends. My mom should never know. Years later, heaven finally picked my call and I met someone, the love of my life. He wasn't as tall as Charles. He wasn't as handsome as Charles, but he was kind, he was peaceful. And when we kissed, it was the sweetest, lovely, and amazing kiss I've ever heard. Thank you,

What an incredible story. So, don't let a wall, an unfinished building, an investigation stand between you and love, right? So, the moral of the story, I am loving experiencing all the stories that we're weaving through tonight. Are you loving them as well? Right. And we're so happy to have you here with us tonight because you get to experience the power of storytelling and how it connects us and sparks connection and empathy for each other. And so in addition to our storytelling events like tonight, we also have incredible things that we'd love you to be part of. The first, if you check your program, there is a QR code. If you scan it, you automatically join the the cool kids club here in the Moth family because now you'll have subscribed to our podcast.

Okay? So, please just scan the QR code and it'll lead you to the Moth podcast. We also lead storytelling workshops. As I said earlier on, myself and all the storytellers that you're going to hear from tonight are graduates from this program and these are held globally. And through these programs and community engagements and global partnerships we have, we help unlock the power of storytelling with different change makers across the world. So, if you want to learn more about the MOT global community program, all you have to do is go to the moth.org or if you love Instagram as much as I do, just go to the Moth Africa or rather moth Africa on Instagram. So, we're going to take a bit of a breather. Um, you can turn your phone on. You can tell all your friends how much fun they're missing out on. And then in exactly 15 minutes, David is going to come around and No, no. In exactly 15 minutes, we'll

come back in because we have a few more stories for you. And round of applause if you want to hear Willis Chimano back on stage. Yeah. Yeah. Which means don't be tardy. 15 minutes break and then we'll come back for more fun. Thanks.

Oh. Oh, freedom. Somebody say freedom. Still my desire. Are you looking for me? I know sticks and stones can break my bones, but words do harm me. Sometimes I feel the pain inside. [singing] I'm suffering in silence when I'm in the dark and I'm all alone. The end of the road. Are you rooting for me? Is anybody praying for me when I go [singing] go away? I know you're scared because you know I never needed you anyway. You'll notice when I go [singing] stop. Take it easy. Don't let them into your heart. Don't let them into your heart.

Stop. Take it easy. Don't let them into your heart. Don't let them into your heart. Somebody say freedom. I'm stuck in the wire. I'm starting to feel like [singing] healing. Let's talk about healing. It's so amazing to be here in collective storytelling to work on our healing through the power of our storytelling and the power of the moth.

Let's talk about healing. A new beginning. I'm growing wings to free my mind. When I go go away, I know you're scared because you know I never needed you anyway. You'll notice when I go go away that you should have love me. Baby, I should have loved you. Stop. [singing] Take it easy. Don't let them into your heart. Don't let them into your heart. [singing] Stop. Take it easy. Don't let them into your heart. Don't let them into your heart. Stop. [singing] Take it easy. Don't let them into your heart. Don't let them into your heart.

Stop. Take it easy. Don't let them into your heart. Don't let them into [singing] your heart. Cuz I'm tired.

A Y. Better put respect before you address me. I didn't send for you, so don't you dare at me. I'mma do me. I'm so so tired.

What you say is more about you than me. Don't argue with the fool. The difference people can't see. Oh stop. Take it easy. Don't let them into your heart. Don't let them into your heart. Stop. Take it easy. Don't let them into your heart. Don't let them into your heart. [singing] Oh yeah. Oh yeah. Oh Lord. Oh yeah.

Thank you. What an incredible performance. I am so proud of Chimano. Please give him another warm round of applause. The artistry is incredible.

Thank you. But everybody who steps on the stage has to answer my question. Oh lord.

Yep. So, what makes you feel brave? What makes me feel brave? I feel like this is a beauty pageant. What makes you feel brave? Um what makes me feel brave is that um I sat in silence and I sat in um in my thoughts and for some time and in my feelings for some time and I realized that there's power in my story and that your story is your superpower and once I realized that I realized that resonates and that also encourages other people to realize that their own stories are their superpowers. That's what Fantastic.

Please give Willis Trumano another warm round of applause. If you want to stand, feel free. It's always so incredible just to see um stories living even through music, right? Um that last song was very very powerful. So um now that we're back, are our phones off? That didn't sound convincing. Someone said yes as they're checking. Please turn off your phones as we get into our next second half of our show. And as you're doing that, I just want to recognize everybody who is watching this on our live stream. And we appreciate you being with us virtually tonight. So, make sure in the chat you drop where you're watching from just so that we can feel your energy with us here. Yes. Give them a round of applause.

Are you ready for our next storyteller? Yes. So when I asked our next storyteller what makes her feel brave, she said when she drives her car for long distances that are not less than 6 hours long. Please welcome Panina Koncho.

Way back in 2009, I graduated from the medical school and qualifi I was I qualified as a midwife. I was very excited. I knew for the first time I was stepping into independence knowing that I'll have my own freedom to do what I wanted. get a job, make some money, do anything without my parents' restrictions, questions or anything. Two years later, my prayer was answered. I got a job in one of the hospitals in Uganda. I was so excited and very thrilled. I knew this was a very new environment. I would make friends, grow professionally and as well maybe find some love.

So for that case, I met a guy. He was so handsome, good-looking, through a friend of mine, Susan, that I had made at that very facility that I worked in. Sammy worked with Susan, not his real name though. He worked Suzanne in the same department but different from mine though in the same facility. Every time I would check on Susan before I got to my department, this made Sammy develop a thing for me. Like I would literally see it, the phone calls he made, the dinners he invited me to. And I mean being in your 20ies, you're very curious adventurous and you want to explore.

So me and Sammy started a relationship and later we dated. It felt so exciting. With this new love in the air, you would feel like you're off the moon. One Friday, I decided to go to Campala, that's a capital city. I wanted to have a weekend with my girlfriends. While we're having fun at about like 10:30 p.m. in the night, guess who calls? Sammy. I'm like, "Hey, babe." He's like, "Penny, where are you?" Like, "I'm in Campella." Then he said to me, "Who gave you the permission?" I'm like, "Hell no. Permission from who? Are we married? Are you my husband? Are you my parent?

Excuse me. I mean, never call me again. I just felt like the few months we had uh dated that was enough. I didn't like someone to control me. So, I continued to enjoy my weekend. Monday came, weekend was done. As I got to work at 8:30 in the morning, I entered into my department and my eyes went straight to Sammy. I'm like, "Hell no, I'm not here for any other argument." I actually thought he was here to talk about the Friday argument. So, I proceeded to the dressing room, put on my N's uniform. While there, the doctor calls me. is like, "Please just come help me arrange the mother's files.

We need to review them." I'm like, "Yes, I'm ready for that." I got out, arranged the files, took them to the doctor's room, and I was I stayed there to help. One, two, three, four mothers came in like on the fifth, the fifth month came in. Uh, she sat down. She was in labor pains. So I as I was taking her blood pressure and all those other vitals doctor the doctor tells me by the way she's what she's a wife to one of our stuffs Sammy I'm like in me I composed myself I was like okay right but I could not wait for more extra 10 minutes I just saw the doctor you know what give me an excuse Please just give me like a minute. I'll be back. I just went out sat into the dressing room. It was just quiet.

I could not think. I mean, I got a grumbling stomach. Uh if one took my BP blood pressure that time, I don't know. It would be high way up there. So the only thing that came to my mind was, "Can you call Susan?" So I called Suzanne. I'm like, "Susanne, you can't believe this. Sami's wife is in labor right here." She was like, "Girl, you must be kidding." I'm like, "No." She was like, "Well, this guy is married, but she's right here seated with us. She's working. He's working." And it sound it feels normal to him. Can we meet at lunch and we talk about everything?

Lunchtime came. I talked Suzanne. She comforted me and she's like, "Relax." I'm like, "Thank God we had a on Friday and had kind of ended this." So, she tells me one thing. Please don't touch Sami's wife. What if anything happens? But remember this relationship with me, me and Sami, it was a secret. being in the same working environment. I mean, no one knew about it. So, it's like, "Okay, Susan, that sounds like a safe plan. I'll not touch her." This was just at 100 p.m. lunchtime. My duty ends at 6:00 p.m., but I need to know how will this day go on by before 6:00 p.m.

I went back to my department. As I was in the labor suit, I was alone with students. Guess what? Sami's wife walks in ready to push her baby. I was in the I was in the middle of a fix. I need to do it. I'm not thinking straight. I mean, I cannot even give an excuse to my supervisor like you can't deliver Sam's wife. Why? I mean, I didn't want any excuses or explanations. So I tell the students please put her on the delivery coach. I prepared for the delivery. 5 10 minutes she pushes her baby. The baby did not cry.

I realized that after a few and the students told me by the way the baby has not cried. You know doing something physically but your out of your body experience. I I I was like, "You know what? You just delivered a baby for your boyfriend's wife, right?" I'm like, "Okay." So, when the students told me that your the baby has not cried, I shouted for help. Other midwives came in and took the baby to the intensive care unit. I I I completed the procedure helping Sami's wife cleaned her up, transferred her to the postnet.

I sat in the room frozen. I wish I had heard had what Susan had told me. Maybe this could not have happened. I wish I not touch this woman. But anyway, she doesn't know whether I'm having an affair with the husband. That one somehow gave me the courage. 6 p.m. came, I went home. I kept on phone calling my colleagues, is the baby okay? And they would tell me, "No, he's still on oxygen. He's not. He hasn't responded yet." All I was praying for was this baby should leave. Two days later, those next two days, I was not supposed to work. I was off duty. So I come back to work and one of us stops another midwife calls me like Penny first come. I'm like okay what is it for me now? Like how long have you been dating Sammy? I'm like what? I don't know about it. She was like first come just tell me this because everyone knows Sami's wife told everyone patients attendance the staffs that that midwife who delivered me

wanted to kill my baby because she's in love with my husband. I'm like what? I was so I felt so small. I felt so humiliated. You know, I was thinking about my reputation thinking that professionally I did what was right. I did not expect to go it to go that far. But like every situation that comes to you, you learn something out of it. as like I'm a midwife and all I would want to see is a health mother and a health baby. That's the core value of a midwife. Then next, every every relationship I'm supposed to go in, I should have made a background check. Is this person married?

Then my final lesson was I've never dated in my other working places since then. Thank you.

Who's ready to organize a small meeting with Sami? like of all the hospitals, he chose that one. Okay. Um, such an incredible story, Panina. Thank you for opening um up about your experiences with us. But I was thinking about the theme tonight, which is daring to hope. And I was thinking about when that daring energy was awakened in me. And I was pretty sure that the catalyst was my late mom. We were more of best friends as opposed to the traditional motheraughter relationship. I mean, when I was a teenager, we shared shoes, we shared jewelry, we shared clothes, we shared a phone.

We read poetry together. We even liked the same music. I remember once a few days to a math exam when I was in IB, mommy came home and asked me, "Why didn't you tell me Shaggy was coming to perform? Shaggy was a big deal for us." Not only because of his music, but like we both found him to be kind of cute. So, she scrambled and got tickets. And while my classmates were studying for math, I was ugling at Shaggy with my mom. But back to this daring energy. It's 2007 and me and my older sister Amanda are seated at the foot of mommy's bed and mommy's tacked in bed and we are glued to the news because post election violence from the safety and comfort of our home we're watching unrest spread across the country and then mommy sits up abruptly and says I am going to the protest tomorrow now as a lastborn also known as your mother's handbag back and also because while watching the news I was feeling a

bit of guilt for not using my voice and my v body to stand up for what I believed in. I quickly said me too. Amanda was the rational one in the home. So she quickly told us that this was a terrible idea and then she stormed out of the room and she was right because at the time mommy was kneedeep in cancer treatment. So a protest was the last place she needed to be in. So D-Day came and we woke up to silent treatment from Amanda because she couldn't believe that we were still going ahead with it. And I was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and sports shoes. And mommy was wearing a long flowy kit dress and ballet flats.

We each had a bottle of water and a face towel cuz mommy said that's going to combat tear gas. And then mommy's driver Peter came to pick us up and we would go to the first meetup spot that was a little out of Nairobi CBD and from there we would make our way into the heart of the city. When we got to the meetup spot she was just so relaxed talking to people and I on the other hand was panicking. This was my first protest. So I was excited yes but very scared. And out of the blue, this guy who I didn't know who is holding a bunch of red ribbons walks up to me, grabs my hand, and ties one of the ribbons around my wrist. No introduction, no hello, nothing. And so I ask him, "What are you doing?" And he says, "This is in case if at the protest you get injured or killed, we will carry you with us because we'll know you're one of us killed."

And before I had time to wrap my mind around this thing, we were being rushed into our cars because the protest was on. And so we're driving to the second meter point, which is Hilton Hotel in Nairobi, CBD. And as we get closer, mommy turns around to me and she says, "You have your phone, right? You have Peter's number now. It's every man for himself." And with that, she jumps out of the car. And I hop out, too, because I'm like, "Last handbag, first protest. What do you mean that every man for himself? And we're at the front of Hilton Hotel with many other protesters. Across us are the riot police and there's tension on both sides and this uneasy silence. And then I hear mommy scream. What have we done wrong? We're just here to have tea.

And before I wrap my head around that, there's a loud bang which to me as a novice protester sounds like a gunshot. So I get scared and I drop my bottle of water. Everybody's running. And then I remember that I'm going to need that water for the tear gas thing. So I run back into what I think is smoke, but then my eyes start watering and itching and I'm coughing. This is that tear gas thing. I pick up my water and I start running. I don't know where mommy is. And so all I have to follow are the red ribboned wrists.

And over the next few hours, the policemen engaged us in running battles around town. I learned so many protest chants. I made so many new friends. And I didn't know where mommy was. So she was right. It's every man for himself. And then time came for me to call Peter. He came to pick me up. And guess who was sitted at the front seat? heavy breathing sweat mommy. But her long flowy kit dress was intact, not a rip. I don't know how she was running in that thing. And when I got into the car, she was laughing and joking around about how did I find my first protest. And then she just casually started making phone calls, updating people on how the protest went. And in the stillness of tear gas, I could finally identify what I felt. First, I felt exhausted, and then I felt the sting that I'd never felt before from my feet.

But I also knew for sure that I am my mother's daughter, and that despite the fear, I dared to stand up for what I believed in show. And the show was directed by Sarah Austin Janes. Please give her a warm round of applause. Jodi Powell and produced by Chris Balute and Josephin Masharia who is somewhere running. We appreciate you. [sighs] I would also want you to give a warm round of applause to all of our storytellers who are just incredible. I want to also thank Shirley Wera, Mr. Masau, Patrick Camau, and the entire team here at Qua. This is an amazing space for us to be at. I want to thank Mercy Dango from Bluegrass and the Nation for their support of the Moth's Global Community Program. As I mentioned earlier, all of the storytellers are graduates from that program, myself included. I also want to thank Chimmano, right?

our incredible timekeeper, David Ralak. Tonight's volunteers and crew, we're so thankful to you. I understand we have tons of college students from our local Moth Nairobi community in the audience. Thank you so much for coming out tonight. And then I need you to also clap for yourselves. I want to appreciate you, our audience, for being here with because what's a story if you don't have somebody to share it with. Right now, this final applause needs to be nice and loud. I'm trying to locate this very important person, but the MO CEO Sarah Habberman, who has made so much possible global community program and this is her last global show as CEO.

Another warm round of applause for her. So, we only have one storyteller left. Doom doom. And when I asked him, "What makes you feel brave?" He answered, "Whenever I overcome my fears." Please welcome on stage Gad Peter Shamaki.

I was working with an NGO and a human right organization, the League for Human Rights, married to my beautiful wife. I was very passionate about my job. As an activist, I spoke clearly and loudly on issue of freedom, social justice and fundamental human rights. Guess what? My wife was a strong pillar of support. I beyond speaking for human rights issue, I was an advocate for ethnic and religious minority group, women, young persons and persons with special needs. And of course for good governance. My wife's argument is simple. Help make the society better so that when we give birth to our kids, they will come into a society that is safe and conducive for everyone.

One afternoon, one Friday evening, while we're discussing our weekend and how our week went by, my wife whispered, "I am pregnant." I thought I didn't hear her right. What did you say? She say you're going to be a father. I've never been told I was going to be a father before. And I had no idea what the role was all about. I grew up in an environment where young boys were impregnating women and where men were married to several women. And I felt my perception then was the role of the man was to pregnant the woman. It was her responsibility to care the pregnancy.

All the same, I wanted to make it work. I supported my wife. We went about shopping and preparing for the newest member of our family. I went about doing my work with the excitement of being a father, supporting my wife, and being an advocate for just society. One afternoon, I was home for lunch, and I noted that my wife wasn't looking very great. I wanted to ask and she said she just came back when she went to the hospital later in the day. The doctors diagnized her with preeacclampsia and that was the first I was hearing that word. So I asked what was it? She said pregnancy induced high blood pressure. Instantly I knew that was a red flag. I've seen men women that are not pregnant that were struggling to manage high blood pressure. So I imagine the implication on a woman and unborn child.

While I was thinking through, she quickly added that the doctor offered that if she had enough rest and take her medication, she was going to be okay. And I felt relieved. I went back with my on my work doing what I needed to do, supporting the society, talking to vulnerable people, encouraging them to have a voice of their own. While I was in the field seven months into the pregnancy, my wife called that the doctor was going to place her on admission and I asked why because her blood pressure was not normalizing. It was a threat to her and unborn baby. I supported the idea you need to be on admission.

7 months, 8 months, 9 months into the pregnancy, she went into a prolonged labor. She was stressed and therefore there was need for an emergency ceer. I was struggling to normalize and to understand what life is all about. I just got married as an activist. Here am I rushing to ensure that my wife was okay. The CS was successful. We were gifted a baby girl that we called Angel. But I noted that once she was brought out to the theater, she wasn't crying like other kids. And I told myself, "Whoa, she didn't want to announce her arrival. Maybe she just wanted to be a quiet girl." After a while, I went back home. I needed to break the news to family and friends. I had to go get some rest and get some stops. While I was home resting, I got a call from the hospital. I thought probably my wife was awake and she needed my attention. I rushed back to the hospital. I was ushered to the doctor's office. He was quiet. After a

while, he looked at me and said, "I'm sorry to say that we lost your baby." I took a deep breath and like, "Which baby? Whose baby are you referring to?" And he was quiet. Then he went further to explain because of the prolonged labor, the side effect of the drugs, the baby couldn't survive. I was sick. I was angry. I was very upset. I looked into the doctor's eye and I said, "Well, that's for the same reason why we were in your clinic." And I could reflect backward the last nine months, especially the last three months of the stress that my wife went through.

And I wonder I was going to break the news to her. I sat down. I took a deep breath. I severally to normalize myself. Then I summon courage to walk to the world to see my wife. She was tired and weak, but she smiled when she saw me. I wish I could smile back. I went beside her bed and sat down. I held her hands. I told her that the angel that the good Lord blessed us with gone back to be with the Lord. And she like, "What do you mean?" I said, "We lost the baby." She busted out crying. I heard her. I apologized. I tried to explain the situation to her and we left the hospital without our dear baby girl.

I had the idea that 6 months, 7 month, one month, I mean a year later she could take in. I will be parents. I thought it was that easy. She took in and she had a miscarriage and we had two still bed. I became a challenge. Clearly, it was becoming a problem and I was struggling to balance my work and my support to my wife. Here am I encouraging other people to be vocal about social justice. here am I looking for support and talking with my wife and together we're trying to make sense out of the situation and you from those of you that are from several African society you very well know that you don't marry a woman or a wife to yourself alone she's for every member of the family that was a family meeting and it was agreed that when next she's pregnant she wasn't going to go through the natural bed but through a ceria session and we all agreed but the pregnancy wasn't forthcoming And then finally she was pregnant again.

And this time I told myself I wasn't going to be an onlooker or just a passenger in the car. I took over the driving seat. I was going to the clinic virtually every time with her. I was feeling the her p. I was putting my ears on her tummy to feel the p of the baby. I was playing with her tummy to feel the baby kick. I needed to fill every aspect of the pregnancy and all of between that I was promoted in my place of work and therefore there was demand for me to travel there was demand for me to engage critical stakeholders and I needed to balance that again with the current situation.

Fortunately, eight months into the pregnancy, the doctor suggested that we needed to have a CS. It's a serious session to avoid any kind of complication and we agreed. The baby was few weeks late I mean early and the baby was a bit tiny. So the doctor suggested that baby need to be kept in the baby intensive unit for a couple of weeks for stability. I was happy to to that suggestion. The baby was there. In the second week of the pregnant, I mean of the admission, my wife was getting panicked. She said the baby wasn't eating well.

The baby wasn't sleeping and the baby was restless. I spoke with the doctor and the doctor called to say no. Everything was normal that the baby was doing just fine. And I assured my wife. I told her believe and trust more and that was okay. Third week into the admission, I called my wife, which is a traditional the routine before going to the hospital. And I asked, "Do you need anything? I'm on my way to the hospital." She mentioned just two items. I picked those two items. While I was on my way to the hospital, that's 30 minutes after my call to her, she called.

For some reasons that I didn't know, then I went into a panic mode. I was anxious. I wasn't excited. I didn't want to pick the call, but someone called it to pick the call and I heard her crying and she said, "We lost the baby again." That was I got the call barely 5 minutes to the hospital, but believe you me, it took me a lifetime to get to the hospital. When I got there, I saw her on the corridor crying. I rushed to her. I hugged her. We cried together and we went into the world. I saw my little king. I picked him up. I said, "We love you so much. We wish you're going home with us." Because when we gave birth to that baby, unlike his elder sister, he announced his arrival like an African warrior. And I was very hopeful that he was going to survive. I had no reason to be worried about him. And so that was the situation. But the second time we went home without our baby.

That was very devastating. And we couldn't just explain why we're going through that. Again, in most African society, if you marry and you're not giving birth to children, it's a problem. So I needed to assure my wife that we're going to travel this part together that she has my 100% support just as she has been supporting me in my place of work. And so we came back home. We did everything humanly possible. We consulted and nothing was just happening. I wanted to give up but my wife will encourage me this. She wanted to give up. We keep encouraging each other but seems not nothing seemed to be working.

And then I just felt let me concentrate on my work to make the society better for the sake of other people. And then she was pregnant again. This time we're paying attention to every details. We're not giving anything to chance. I was feeling as if I was pregnant myself. I needed to be there in that space in that moment with her. I was ensuring she was taking her drugs. I bought every medication. I bought every machine at home. I was a constant visitor to the hospital with my wife. And I'm happy to say that we didn't give up. We held on to that hope. 13 years after we lost our first child, we were blessed with three lovely girls.

It's so sweet to hear each of them calling my wife mommy and calling me daddy. Is that the same hope that brought me this far? Thank you.

Thank you so much, God. That story really speaks to the resilience that I mentioned earlier that one will need when you're just daring to hope. Hasn't it been a wonderful night? Right. We have scaled walls to look for love. We have honored the legacy of our friendships. We have Sammy. Sammy right? And we have for sure had an incredible time listening to Brian wear a t-shirt to a wedding. Um, we really want to thank you for coming out to this moth main stage tonight. By coming, you are now officially members of the family. And how you can cement your place in this family is to make sure that you are subscribed to the Moth Podcast so you can listen to more inspiring stories every week. So, just scan the QR code and you're in. Wherever you find podcasts, you'll find the Moth podcast there. If you want to find out what we're up to next, when's the next show, so that your friends who missed out can

come through. What you need to do is sign up for our newsletter. Just go to the moth.org. There is also a very short survey because we make this space for you. And so we want to hear from you how to make it better, what you loved, what you would love to add on. So as you head on out, our volunteers and crew will help you locate the the survey. Please fill it out. We'd love to hear from you. Thank you so much for coming tonight. Please give yourselves another loud warm round of applause. Welcome to the Mott family.

Thank you for coming tonight and good night.

Questions about this episode

Who speaks in "DARING TO HOPE | The Moth Mainstage LIVE from Nairobi"?

Adelono (Host), Willis Chimano (Guest), Brian Turyabaji (Guest), Evelyn Kibuchi (Guest), Panina Koncho (Guest), Gad Peter Shamaki (Guest), David Rac (Guest).

What is "DARING TO HOPE | The Moth Mainstage LIVE from Nairobi" about?

The event features an evening of inspirational storytelling and live performances, highlighting the talents of Kenyan icon Willis Chimano and creating a vibrant atmosphere filled with music, enthusiasm, and audience interaction. The host, Adelono, sets the stage for uplifting narratives that encourage hope and connection among attendees.

What is mentioned in this The Moth episode?

10 people, works and ideas are mentioned, including Evelyn Kibuchi, Brian Turyabaji, Gad Peter Shamaki, The Moth Global Community Program, Nairobi, Willis Chimano. Each one on this page links to its own page with every episode that mentions it.

How long is "DARING TO HOPE | The Moth Mainstage LIVE from Nairobi"?

The episode runs 1 h 47 min; the transcript is about 11,753 words in 112 timestamped sections.

More from The Moth

About this transcript: the episode's spoken words as captioned on YouTube, split into timestamped sections. Reclip.Me locates every person, work and idea in the text, keeps the time it is first named, and quotes the words around it verbatim. Last updated January 26, 2026.