I came From Nowhere. But Drums Have Carried Me Everywhere.

My journey to America is probably not like the others you have shared here. But it is mine, and I own it.

It started in Kawangware-Ungwaro, as we used to call it. Life was hard. Maybe I am not even describing it the right way, because “hard” doesn’t quite capture what we endured as a family. School fees were a struggle. Many days, I was sent home. But somehow, God always found a way to bring me back.

That “way” was music.

In primary school, I picked up the drums. Not just picked them up-I lived them. I joined the school dance and drama club and looking back, that decision changed my life.  For me, the drum was not just an instrument. It was an escape. A sanctuary.

Then God began placing people in my path who changed my destiny.

The first was a woman who worked at UNEP. She saw us perform, fell in love with our artistry, and doors opened that none of us could have imagined. Suddenly, the boy who could barely afford to stay in class was on a plane-first to Spain in 1992, then Sweden in 1995. By 1997, I was in New York.

But even before that, music had already rewritten my story. One day, while we were performing at Dagoretti High School, the principal said, “If anyone in this band scores over 500 marks in KCPE, we’ll admit you here.”

Dagoretti’s cut-off was tough. By God’s grace, I scored 530. They gave me a chance.

From the moment I arrived for Form One, they were waiting. My first day was not about settling into a dorm-it was about being rushed straight into the drama hall to perform. Music had become my ticket.

And it did not stop. When Kawangware Primary was invited to perform in New York, even though I was already in Form Two at Dagoretti, they still came for me. The boy from Ungwaro found himself on a stage in America.

New York felt different. Open. Welcoming. Unlike Sweden, where we just played, retreated to our rooms, and repeated the cycle, New York embraced us. I saw possibilities.

But reality was never far. When I finished Form Four, I left Dagoretti with a huge fees balance. I could not even get my certificate until we went, hat in hand, to plead with our MP, Beth Mugo. She wrote a letter, and only then did I walk away with that piece of paper.

Still, life had its surprises. At the Catholic Church near home, where I helped train youth in music, I met a dancer. A beautiful girl in the youth group. That girl became my wife and the mother of my children.

Then came another turning point. A fellow dancer from church got a green card in 2001. I was so happy for me and that took me back to that one time I visited New York. Ten years later, in 2011, it was my time and I boarded a plane again-this time not for a performance, but for a new life.

America felt like falling in love all over again. My first job was at the San Diego Zoo, a seasonal gig that allowed me to buy my very first car. Back home in Kenya, I only had a bicycle. Here, I had keys in my hand. I also picked up gardening shifts through neighbors who owned a landscaping company, and that extra income kept me afloat.

But I wanted more. I went back to school, earned my Licensed Vocational Nursing (LVN) certification, and now I’m pursuing my Registered Nurse (RN) license.

Two years after coming to America, my wife and child were able to join me. We added one more child to our family! Hahahaha.

Even with work and family, music never left me. Today, I moonlight as a teacher of Kenyan music and dance with the Center for World Music, taking rhythms of home into American classrooms. That’s how I earned the nickname Wakatarama.

Sometimes I sit and marvel. A boy whose mother could not afford fees. A boy who lived with the shame of being sent home. A boy from Ungwaro, Kawangware-now a husband, a father, a nurse, and a cultural ambassador.

God has used music, and the people He placed along my path, to bless me beyond measure.

I came from nowhere. But the beat carried me everywhere.

If this story speaks to you, I would love to hear yours. “May The Day Break” is a series capturing real people, real moments, and the lessons that shape us. If you would like to be featured, send me a message to info@awmagazine.org