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The Untold Struggles of Learning Mother's on Campus

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By SHARON  GATWIRI IKWINGA

BA Communication Studies Student,  Chuka University 

At 6:30 a.m., while most university students are still wrapped in blankets or rushing to beat the first lecture bell, “Nkirote” is already awake.Not to revise notes. Not to prepare for class.But to calm a crying baby.She rocks her child gently, whispering soft words of comfort in the dim light of her small hostel room. In a few hours she is expected to sit in a lecture hall with hundreds of other students, listening to theories and taking notes. Yet long before the lecturer arrives, Nkirote has already completed the most demanding shift of her day: motherhood.For many young women in Kenyan universities, this is the reality rarely discussed in lecture halls or campus brochures, the life of a learning mother.
Mothers in university need support of the community to succeed like other students as well as take care of their babies |FILE 

Nkirote, not her real name, joined university full of excitement like any other first-year student. She had dreams of independence, a promising career and the freedom that comes with campus life. But halfway through her first semester, everything changed.She discovered she was pregnant.“I remember staring at the test results for almost an hour,” she recalls quietly. “I kept hoping I had read it wrong.”Fear quickly replaced excitement. The news that was supposed to remain a secret soon began to shape every aspect of her life.

When her parents learned about the pregnancy, the disappointment was immediate and overwhelming.“They felt I had wasted their sacrifices,” she says.The anger at home became unbearable. For four weeks she had no place to call home, moving between friends’ houses and temporary shelters. The long holiday that many students spend resting and reconnecting with family became one of the darkest periods of her life.“I felt like my world had collapsed,” she says.

Eventually, she delivered her baby and was forced to defer her studies for a semester so she could recover and care for the child.But returning to campus did not mean life returned to normal.Instead, it introduced a different kind of struggle.While other students rushed to lectures, Nkirote constantly battled fatigue from sleepless nights. 

Her mornings were unpredictable, dictated not by lecture schedules but by the needs of her infant.Sometimes the baby fell sick. Sometimes there was no money for basic supplies. Sometimes there was simply no one to help.Balancing books and baby became a daily negotiation.“There are days you sit in class but your mind is somewhere else,” she says. “You keep thinking: Did the baby eat? Is the baby crying?”The emotional toll followed her everywhere.

Her boyfriend, the father of the child, slowly disappeared from her life. At first the calls became less frequent. Eventually, they stopped completely.“He muted me everywhere,” she says.The silence was painful, but it was not the only loss she experienced.Some friends drifted away.Others avoided her, unsure how to relate to her new reality. Invitations to social events stopped. Conversations became awkward.

Gradually, isolation replaced the vibrant campus social life she once enjoyed.“Sometimes I felt like people looked at me differently,” she says. “Like I had become a warning story.”Financial pressure added another layer of hardship. With no source of income, she depended on parents who were still trying to process their disappointment, even as she now had a child depending entirely on her.“It’s hard asking for money when you know you already disappointed them,” she says.

Campus life, already demanding for many students, became even more complicated.Morning classes were the hardest. If the baby cried through the night, attending an 8 a.m. lecture felt almost impossible. Discussion groups often clashed with childcare responsibilities. Assignments were sometimes submitted late.The pressure accumulated quietly.Behind lecture notes and textbooks was a young woman struggling with guilt, exhaustion and self-blame.“I kept asking myself why I allowed this to happen,” she says.

Her body had also changed in ways that affected her confidence. The attention she once received from male classmates disappeared almost overnight. Some who had once shown interest stopped answering her calls.Those small silences deepened her insecurities.“There are moments you feel invisible,” she says.Yet the psychological weight extended beyond campus.Back home, whispers followed her story. In the village, personal mistakes often become public narratives.“When things go wrong, everyone has an opinion,” she says.

Explaining her situation repeatedly became exhausting. Every new acquaintance seemed to require another explanation about the baby, about the father, about the choices she made.But beneath the exhaustion lies a quiet resilience.Despite the sleepless nights, missed discussions and emotional storms, Nkirote continues to attend classes, submit assignments and prepare for exams.Her motivation is simple.“My child,” she says.She believes completing her education is the only path toward building a stable future for both of them.

Across Kenyan campuses, stories like Nkirote’s remain largely invisible. Learning mothers rarely appear in university policy discussions or student welfare debates, yet their challenges are real and complex.They navigate lecture halls with heavy responsibilities that their peers may never fully understand. For them, campus life is not just about grades and graduation.It is about survival, sacrifice and the quiet determination to rewrite their stories.And every morning, when Nkirote rocks her baby before heading to class, she carries two dreams instead of one.

More than a Game: Inside the Rise of Pool Culture at Chuka University

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By WAMBUI PURITY WANJIRU 

BA Journalism and Mass Communication Student,  Chuka University 

The sharp crack of balls colliding cuts through the evening chatter as a small crowd squeezes around a green table just outside and around the University premises. A player bends low, steadying his cie under the dim security lights. For a moment, nobody dares to make a sound. The balls rolls slowly, kisses the cushion and disappears into the corner pocket. Cheers erupt. Another match won, another night begun.
 
A pool table 

As lectures end each day, students stream out of the classrooms to the trading centres. Instead of heading straight to hostels many take a familiar turn towards the pool tables that now dominate the shopping centres. What was once a rare pass time has grown into a daily ritual, shaping the social life of the campus.

Older residents say the change has been gradual but visible. A few years ago one table could serve dozens of students waiting impatiently for their turn. Today, nearly every block near the campus hosts at least one often surrounded by spectators long before sunset.

For students, the attraction goes beyond winning games. Many describe it as relief from academic pressure  "After long lectures your brain is tired," says Derrick Mokaya, third year student, "Here you relax, laugh and forget assignments for a while."

Others come for connection rather than competition. Friendships form quickly around the table; strangers become teammates, rivals become regulars and evenings turn into routine gatherings. Some players have even built reputations, drawing crowds whenever they play.

The game has also created its own informal community. Spectators analyses shots, advise beginners and celebrate skilled moves as if watching professional sport.
"My first experience was good and I learned a new game," says Phelix Omondi, a first year student. "It was a little challenging but I enjoyed the new experience."

For business owners the growth has brought steady income. Operators say evenings and weekends are the busiest, with matches sometimes running late into the night. Small tournaments organized among students attract even larger crowds, turning simple entertainment into a livelihood for nearby youths.

The space once dominated by male players is also changing. More female students now participate, either competing directly or learning casually with friends slowly reshaping perceptions about who belongs around the table.

Still, not everyone views the trend positively. Some students worry about time lost and temptations of small betting wagers that occasionally accompany heated matches. Balancing academics and leisure remains a constant challenge.

As darkness settles over the two, the final players prepare for one last game before heading back to hostels. Tomorrow morning lectures will resume and deadlines will return. But tonight, under fading bulb and the soft scrape of chalk on cue, campus life pauses and the table decides who leaves smiling.

A Digital Love Affair

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By BEATRICE SHILA MACY

Second Year BA Journalism and Mass Communication Student,  Chuka University 

In an era where digital platforms have dominated our attention to popular apps like Facebook TikTok , Snapchat and Instagram have transcended their initial purpose morphing into vibrant realms of connection and identity. Each app serves as a unique window into our brain reclaiming our attention and ending up destroying our mental health. According to Adithi Nerurkar a Harvard Stress Expert, it rewires your body increasing the risk of heart disease and post-traumatic stress disorder .

Snapchat 

Snapchat is designed in a way that the messages, photos or videos sent can disappear after being viewed . This encourages cyber bullying , defamation and sextortion. Even though the snaps disappear any person can take a screenshot or record therefore interfering with privacy or the screenshot snaps can be used to blackmail the victim. ln a show called Brain Rot Emergence hosted by Steve, Dr Jonathan Haidt says most child or sex traffickers use Snapchat because it does not keep records. He goes ahead and insists that there is a handbook used by a criminal organisation which tells how to sextortion kids on Snapchat .

The TikTok app is the most digitally used app by Generation Z .Some of the TikTok challenges can lead to suicidal acts, a good example is the chocking challenge where you cut off air circulation to a point you pass out and then film yourself when you wake up after passing out . 

If you are unlucky then you end up dying. Due to privacy restrictions of the app the victims’ families cannot or do not get justice in court rooms. Yet the deceased was negatively influenced by the videos . The large diversity content produced by TikTok videos shuts the attention span of the viewers .

Social media executives designed them to be super-addictive because more time spent on the apps increases the profit rate .Short movie apps like Drama box , Reel short , Flash box , Short tv have emerged and more are coming up following the market trend by producing short movie clips. This is because it is what the market demands and that is what attracts larger audiences.

Neuroplasticity is the brain's ability to rewire itself through neutral connections in response to learning and experiences . Short - form scrolling can cause rapid attention reducing grey matter and impaired frontal cortex activity by heavy users.

According to Doctor Jonathan Haidt, a psychologist and author, no devices should be allowed in the bedroom during sleeping hours. This is to ensure the sleeping pattern is not interfered , shut off notifications or alerts to avoid interactions and deleting off addictive apps to avoid shifting of focuses. As for the kids, zero screen policy should be implemented unless under strict supervision .

Strict measures should be put in place and laws implemented to protect the young teens since they are the future. More than 50 percent of the consumers are young teens and most time is spent consuming the diversity content therefore leading to less productivity not only in human activities but also their studies.

The Dust of Neglect: Maara's Cry for Infrastructure Justice

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By MULIRO NAKHUMICHA LINDAH 

Journalism and Mass Communication
Second Year Student, Chuka University 

The morning of February 18, 2026, did not unfold with the familiar rhythm of life in Maara. Normally, dawn in the green highlands of the constituency begins with the quiet rustle of tea leaves being plucked by farmers, the distant hum of motorcycles ferrying passengers to nearby markets, and traders preparing to travel toward Chogoria town.
Heavy rains make many parts of Maara Constituency impassable. |FILE 

On this particular morning, however, the atmosphere carried a different energy—one heavy with frustration, impatience, and the lingering dust of years of neglect. By 7:00 a.m., the narrow roads that snake through Maara’s agricultural villages had become the stage for an unusual gathering. Hundreds of residents had assembled, forming barricades across key routes linking the area to major highways. Old tires, stones, and wooden planks lay scattered across the road as symbols of protest. Men, women, and youth stood together, their voices rising in determined chants that echoed through the hills.

For the residents of Maara, the demonstrati on was not merely a spontaneous outburst of anger. It was the culmination of years of waiting—years filled with promises of development that seemed to evaporate as quickly as they were made. Maara Constituency, located in Tharaka Nithi County, is widely recognized for its rich soils and hardworking farmers. The region produces significant quantities of tea, coffee, and dairy products, making it an important contributor to the local economy. Yet, ironically, the very roads meant to transport these agricultural products to markets have become obstacles rather than pathways.

During the dry season, the roads are blanketed with thick clouds of dust that cling to vehicles, houses, and crops alike. In the rainy season, the same roads transform into muddy channels carved by water and erosion. Deep potholes and uneven surfaces make travel slow and dangerous, forcing vehicles to crawl along routes that should otherwise take only a short time to navigate.

For many residents, the protest was sparked by the deteriorating condition of several key link roads that have remained in a state of “planned construction” for years. Despite repeated announcements of road improvement projects, tangible progress on the ground has been painfully slow.
“We are always told that development is coming,” said one young resident who joined the protest early that morning. “But every year the roads become worse. We cannot continue waiting while our livelihoods suffer.”

The economic consequences of poor infrastructure in Maara are profound. Farmers depend heavily on efficient transport networks to deliver their produce to buyers in nearby towns. However, when vehicles are forced to navigate treacherous roads, the journey becomes longer, more expensive, and sometimes impossible.

A trip that should take less than an hour can stretch into several hours as drivers carefully maneuver around potholes or struggle through muddy sections. For trucks carrying perishable goods such as milk and vegetables, these delays often translate into financial losses.

Small-scale farmers say that buyers sometimes lower the price of their produce because of the additional costs associated with transportation. Others are forced to rely on middlemen who purchase goods at reduced prices simply because they have the means to transport them.

Motorcycle taxi operators, commonly known as boda boda riders, have also been deeply affected. The rough terrain causes frequent mechanical breakdowns, increasing maintenance expenses and reducing daily earnings. “In the past, I could work the whole day without worrying too much about repairs,” one rider explained. “Now the roads damage our motorcycles so badly that we spend most of what we earn fixing them.”

As repair costs rise, boda boda operators have been forced to increase transport fares. For students and low-income residents who rely on motorcycles to reach schools, workplaces, and health facilities, the rising cost of transport has created additional financial strain.

Beyond the economic burden, the condition of the roads has also had serious social consequences for the community.
Healthcare workers in the region have long expressed concern about the difficulty of responding to medical emergencies. Ambulances often struggle to reach remote villages, particularly during the rainy season when roads become almost impassable.

During the demonstration, one resident shared a painful story of a neighbor who lost a child because medical assistance arrived too late. Heavy rainfall had turned the village road into a slippery path that ambulances could not navigate quickly.

Education has also suffered as a result of the poor infrastructure. In some parts of Maara, school attendance drops significantly during the rainy months. Teachers find it difficult to travel to their stations, while students are forced to walk long distances through thick mud.

Many children arrive at school tired and drenched before lessons even begin. In extreme cases, parents choose to keep younger children at home during periods of heavy rain because the journey to school becomes too dangerous.

Despite these challenges, the protest itself remained largely peaceful and organized. Women sat along the road holding empty tea baskets, symbolizing the agricultural labor that sustains the community. Youth groups led chants demanding accountability from both county and national leaders.
Police officers maintained a presence nearby but largely kept their distance as the demonstration unfolded. Community elders helped maintain order among the protesters, emphasizing that the goal was not confrontation but attention.

Residents repeatedly emphasized that their demands were simple: they wanted real action rather than more promises. Surveyors had visited the area in the past, measuring roads and taking notes before disappearing without visible progress.

For the people of Maara, the sight of road construction machinery would mean far more than speeches or announcements.
As the day progressed, a few local leaders attempted to address the crowd, explaining that road projects require budget approvals and lengthy procurement procedures. While these explanations reflected the realities of government processes, many protesters felt that such responses did little to address the urgency of their situation.

The frustration expressed in Maara reflects a broader national conversation about infrastructure development. Kenya has invested heavily in large-scale projects such as highways, railways, and urban expressways. While these developments have transformed major cities and transportation corridors, many rural communities continue to struggle with basic road networks.
For residents of Maara, the issue is not merely about convenience—it is about dignity, opportunity, and fairness.

They believe that the roads connecting farms to markets, homes to hospitals, and children to schools are just as important as large national projects. Without these “last-mile” connections, the benefits of development cannot reach the communities that need them most.

As the sun slowly began to set on February 18, the protesters gradually dispersed, returning to their homes and farms. The barricades were cleared, but the message they carried remained.

The residents of Maara had spoken with a unified voice, demanding accountability and meaningful action from those in positions of leadership. Whether their cry for infrastructure justice will lead to tangible change remains uncertain. Yet one thing is clear: the dust that rises from Maara’s neglected roads has become more than just a symbol of decay. It has become the voice of a community determined to be heard.

The Silent Struggles People Don't Post Online

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By IRENE NDUNGE KYALO

Second Year BA Journalism and Mass Communication Student,  Chuka University

Social media often feels like a gallery of good lives. People smile, post about going to vacations and celebrate.  This is what feels our screens every day. From the look of things everyone seems very happy and successful but the posts only shows the best and good things people have. Many people carry silent struggles that they never show online. 

People tend to post only the good moments of their lives and leave out the mess. |FILE 

Some people are battling loneliness while appearing to be surrounded by friends. Others smile in pictures while worrying about money, family and responsibilities or their future. The needs to appear strong makes vulnerability feelings risky, so the struggles are placed away where no one can scroll enough to find them.

The quiet struggle shapes resilience. Behind the bright posts and perfect selfie many people are battling hardships. They hide stress and disappointments only showing us what they think is safe and acceptable.

 Pressure to appear successful or emotionally stable discourages honest sharing. Students post achievements but forget to mention the hardship. Young professionals celebrate new opportunities while privately worrying about financial stability. The gap between public image and private experience continues to widen. 

The danger of this hidden reality is comparison. Because when we see the highlights of these people living their best lives we assume we are the one suffering and struggling. This creates shame and isolation even though hardship is something that everyone goes through. 

Understanding this can change how we treat one another with a little patience, a kind message or just listen to make a difference. Social media shows moments not whole lives. When you remember everyone carries unseen battles, compassion becomes easier. Sharing these truths might be uncomfortable but it reminds others that they are not facing their battles alone. 

Behind every smiling post, there are moments of doubt and exhaustion that no one sees. Online life looks easy but reality often tells a different story. The quiet struggles also show real strength. 

But even in in the hardest moments there is room for hope. Sometimes surviving a difficult day is victory enough and it reminds us that brighter moments are still ahead. 

The silent struggles people don’t bother to post online reminds us that a human being is messy and imperfect and also strength is not about looking happy all the time. It is about looking forward or not giving up even when things are hard. Life does not always go as planned and sometimes it feels heavier than others. People face challenges quietly and they never speak about them even to those close to them. The bravest stories are never posted but are the one we live every day. 

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