Somewhere between liking a Green-brief post on Instagram and reposting a tree-planting flyer I never showed up for, I convinced myself I was an environmentalist. I mean, I once used a reusable straw in 2020. That has to count for something, right?
In a country where climate change feels like an abstract concept until it floods your mabati house or fries your sukuma, many of us have mastered the art of looking environmentally conscious without really doing much. We’ve become masters of personal greenwashing. We say things like “I really care about nature” while tossing plastic water bottles out of moving matatus. We attend clean-up drives, take selfies in reflective vests, and leave with more wrappers in our pockets than we found on the ground. And if someone dares to question our eco-credentials? “Excuse me, I planted a tree last year.” One tree. In a school. That probably got uprooted or forgotten about, but still a tree was planted.
There’s something deeply Kenyan about the way we flirt with environmentalism. We love the optics , the branded t-shirts, the hashtags, the chance to be seen caring. But the minute it inconveniences us say, by asking us to carry a reusable bag or separate our trash ,we suddenly remember that we are “too busy.” Or we mumble something about the government needing to do more, as if that absolves us from throwing banana peels and KDF wrappers out the car window.
And let’s talk about those of us in the city who believe that just because we shop at organic markets and eat kale that costs more than rent in some counties, we’re saving the planet. We take long drives in fuel-guzzling cars to buy free-range eggs and imported almonds but because they’re in brown paper bags and we don’t ask for plastic, we feel morally superior. Meanwhile, our carbon footprint is somewhere doing push-ups and laughing at us.
Our schools didn’t really teach us how to live sustainably. Most of us grew up watching people burn trash behind the house or sweep litter into the drainage. So now, as adults, we’re just making it up as we go along which would be okay, if we weren’t pretending to have it all figured out. The truth is, many of us have no idea what happens to our waste once the garbage guy takes it. We just wave goodbye to our sins and hope they don’t come back as floods or strange rashes.
But here’s the thing. We don’t need to be perfect. Maybe you don’t have to compost everything, or bike to work, or stop eating meat (God forbid). Maybe being green isn’t about big, dramatic lifestyle overhauls. Maybe it starts with just doing one small thing consistently like actually carrying that tote bag every time, not just on Earth Day. Or refusing that extra plastic spoon at the chips joint. Or switching off the lights when you leave a room instead of telling yourself it’s “just one bulb.”
Because the planet doesn’t need more perfect eco-warriors. It needs fewer people pretending to care and more people doing one less harmful thing each day. So yes, I confess. I recycle once a year. I forget my reusable cup all the time. But I’m trying to do better and if enough of us start trying, even if it’s clumsy and inconsistent, that might just be enough to make a dent.
Until then, catch me at the next clean-up, taking selfies I won’t post, and actually picking up more than just vibes.
