From left: Samuel Ndegwa, Tiberias Okanga, Gift Maseno and Collins Wafula.
Why do Kenyans living abroad still return home every December, even when the journey is fraught with challenges?
Air tickets are costly, flights long and crowded, and most people only get short breaks.
Yet, as December approaches, a familiar longing grows. Despite the expense and limited time, they still find their way back for the festive season.
Like sailors lured by the Sirens or iron drawn to a lodestone, they heed the call of home year after year.
For many, the pull is deeply personal. One of them is Samuel Ndegwa, a 31-year-old IT consultant in Mauritius.
Samuel Ndegwa, 31, is an IT specialist living in Port Louis Mauritius.
Samuel has spent the past seven years working on the island.
Although his career took him far from Nairobi, he never lets Christmas pass without returning home.
“I have been here for about seven years. I am in and out, but mostly here. I always go back for Christmas and for Easter if I am lucky.”
The calm of experience
At 31, he speaks with the calm of experience, but the excitement of someone who still treasures home.
When he first left Kenya, nothing was planned. “I came to Mauritius by luck,” he says.
“It was supposed to be a three-week assignment. It became three months. Before I knew it, I had a three-year work permit. The environment here is calm, the infrastructure is good, and you meet people from everywhere. It made sense for my career.”
Mauritius gave him order and convenience—things he felt Nairobi could not offer at the time.
The exposure to global companies and diverse cultures kept him there, but his heart never left Kenya.
Whenever a Kenyan holiday falls on a weekend, he gathers with other Kenyans on the island.
“We used to have an expatriates’ group, but people got busy, and it died. Later, I started a community for Kenyans in Mauritius. We meet for events, especially roasted meat, when holidays fall near weekends.”
But Christmas and Easter are different. “I have to travel home,” he says. It became a rule after spending his first year and three months abroad without a break.
“I realised I cannot stay away from my family home for a whole year. You do not want to be in Mauritius during Christmas. Most people here are Hindu and Christmas means nothing to them. It is quiet. So I travel every year.”
Coming home is a ritual soaked in familiarity.
“My first stop is always home,” Samuel says. His parents live near Nairobi, which makes the journey easy. “I go to their house in Utawala and stay a week or two before meeting friends and extended family.”
What truly pulls him back is the Kenyan spirit. “It is the people,” he says. “The culture around December is unique. Everyone is on leave, families meet, friends meet, and people travel together. The social life is full of energy. You miss that when you have been away for a whole year.”
His visits last four to six weeks. “A lot can happen in a year,” he says. “People get children, people get married, people die. It is always good to catch up. Time moves very fast when I am home.”
For Samuel, the most alive part of December is the rush of Nairobi.
“Mauritius is quiet and peaceful. I already have enough of that. When I come home, I enjoy the 24-hour life. I enjoy the roasted meat, the smoky sausage vendors and the freedom to move around at any time.”
Everyone who matters
His only pressure is meeting everyone who matters. He laughs.
“People always think you came back with money. Before, I used to feel the need to meet that expectation. Now I spend what I can. If I do not have, then I do not have.”
He often thinks about moving back for good, but fear—and the advice of those at home—slows him down.
“I have planned it many times,” he says. “But people tell you about taxes, levies and the economy. So you say, let me wait one more year, let me see what happens after the elections. I postpone it.”
Still, he carries pieces of home with him. “I love Kenyan tea. I love ugali. I always ask people travelling here to bring some. I try to eat the Kenyan way.”
Already missing home
Collins Wafula, 27, is an Account Manager for Sub-Saharan Africa at Google, living in Dublin.
Far away in Dublin, another Kenyan feels the same pull. His name is Collins Wafula and, unlike Samuel, he has only spent two months abroad.
Collins, 27, works in Dublin as an account manager for Sub-Saharan Africa at Google.
After just a few months abroad, he already knows where he wants to spend his festive season.
“There is no place like home,” he says. “I have always spent Christmas with my family. No matter where we are, we always find a way to be together.”
His journey abroad began with courage and curiosity.
After years in creative agencies and advertising firms in Nairobi, he took a bold step. He applied for his dream job, even though it meant leaving everything behind.
“All I did was shoot my shot,” he recalls. “I told the recruiter, you need someone like me. A few weeks later, I got the call.”
Searching for flight deals
He packed his life into three suitcases and crossed continents. He deliberately avoided asking Kenyans in Dublin for advice.
“I wanted to experience everything for myself. It felt like jumping into deep water.”
Now, barely months later, he is already searching for flight deals, hoping the holiday prices will not rise.
His family and friends are excited, though some doubt he will make it.
“They think I should have planned already,” he laughs. “Maybe the last-minute person in me will wake up on the twentieth and I will just book the quickest flight home.”
Asked what he will do first upon landing, he does not hesitate.
“I want to eat ugali,” he says. “Ugali with eggs, managu and mala. I have missed it for three months.”
He also longs for the Kenyan summer. “I want to bask. I want to feel the warmth.”
He misses the smell of rain on dry soil and the sense of relief when he sees his family.
“It feels like your heart waits to exhale until you are finally home.”
Even though he speaks to his family daily, he knows the reunion will be special.
“I expect the warmest welcome. My friends have already promised to cook for me. They want to feed me all the Kenyan food I can get.”
Living abroad has changed him, though not in the way people expect.
“The biggest change has been in my mind and emotions. You learn to see life differently. You appreciate your loved ones more because you must make up for not being there physically.”
He hopes to fly home several times a year. If he cannot make it this Christmas, he plans to enjoy a Christmas market in Dublin—or simply relax with films.
But deep down, his heart is set on home. For Collins, just like it is for many Kenyans abroad, Christmas is not complete without family, sunshine and a plate of ugali.
The uncle abroad
Tiberias Okanga, 30, is a PhD candidate in Environmental Chemistry, living in College Park, Maryland, United States
That familiar pull also lives in another young Kenyan thousands of kilometres away.
A scientist who has chased scholarships and built a life in academia, yet every December finds himself booking the same flight home.
Tiberias Okanga, 30, lives in the United States but returns every December.
He is a doctoral candidate in chemistry at the University of Maryland, studying environmental chemistry with a focus on air quality and environmental justice.
He moved to the US in 2023 after completing his master’s degree in Hungary.
Before leaving Kenya, he graduated with first-class honours in industrial chemistry from Jomo Kenyatta University of Agriculture and Technology in 2013.
At the same time, he explored a passion he had never studied. “I ventured into photography and media. Then the pandemic came and everything stopped.”
With events cancelled, he turned back to science and began seeking scholarships. In 2021, he received the Stipendium Hungaricum, which took him to the University of Pécs for his master’s and later opened the door to his doctoral programme.
Even while living abroad, he never stays away from Kenya for long.
Every festive season
“I travel home a lot. I was in Kenya in October and I will be back again in December.”
Home is where he chooses to spend almost every festive season.
“I book my ticket early because I am a student. Once I have that, I come home, enjoy time with my family and return to work.”
What pulls him back is clear. “Family is the first thing,” he says.
He is the only member of his family living abroad and the winter cold makes home feel even more precious.
“Winter here can be very cold and lonely. It is minus three degrees now. When you do not have people around you, it can be depressing. So I enjoy the good weather and the company of my family.”
He laughs when describing the moment he knows he is truly home.
“Everybody is speaking Swahili. Then when you pass customs with maybe some electronics, that is when you know you are home.” Even before landing, the excitement begins. “When the pilot says we are descending to Nairobi and Safaricom sends that welcome message, it feels amazing. You know you are home.”
Always a celebration
His arrival is always a celebration.
“My family and friends get excited. I am the young uncle abroad who comes home with stories. Everyone wants to hear how life is out there. We catch up on everything.”
He visits at least once a year, sometimes more. “For me, physical presence matters. You can send money and make calls, but when someone feels your touch and your smell, that is different.”
Christmas at home is lively and meaningful. “My father always made Christmas big. We slaughter goats. We start with church, then a Thanksgiving mass at home. A priest comes to say mass. Then we celebrate, invite friends, eat, drink, enjoy the day.”
His home is in Magunga, Suba South, Homa Bay County. Each return reminds him of his roots.
“When I am home, I become a villager. I put on my sandals and shorts and go grazing. I grew up with these people.”
He is unsure where he will settle after school.
“I am open. If work places me in Kenya, I will be happy. If it places me in the US, I will be happy. I have lived in different cultures. I just stay open-minded.”
But on one thing he is firm. “After retirement, I must come back home. No matter where I work, I will return to my village. That is my end goal.”
Summer Bunny
Gift Maseno, 27, is a Kenyan tech professional in cybersecurity analyst living in Europe.
That same excitement lives in another Kenyan in Europe—Gift Maseno, a 27-year-old cyber security analyst who has built a life in Dublin.
Gift left Kenya in 2022 after receiving a full-time job offer. She still remembers her first steps out of the plane. “I got off and it was so windy,” she says with a laugh.
Her first Christmas away was spent with her Irish flatmate’s family in Cork, who hosted her warmly with plates of turkey, lamb and ham. Even so, she felt homesick.
“My mother told me I could not come home because I had just left in April. I spent Christmas there, but I was so homesick.”
That first year taught her that festive seasons abroad are vastly different. Streets grow silent, shops close early and taxis vanish.
“It shocked me. In Kenya, you wake up and the streets are alive. In Dublin, the city felt empty.”
For her, the first sign she is truly back home is not the sight of friends at the airport but the light.
“When the morning sun comes up and I see it through the plane window, that is when I know I am in Kenyan airspace. The sun here feels different.”
She also speaks of stepping back into familiar voices. A friend usually greets her with flowers.
“It feels so good. You know you look tired, but there she is, smiling and waiting.”
But above all, she comes home for food. She laughs as she lists what she craves—nyama choma, sukuma wiki, chicken wings from a popular fast-food spot, and coffee from her favourite chain.
“People say their coffee tastes like toothpaste. It is still my best coffee.”
Gift prepares for her trips early.
Drastic shift in climate
She buys gifts a month in advance because family and friends expect them. She also plans for the drastic shift in climate.
“I leave Europe dressed warm. By the time I reach Dubai to change flights, I must dress for warm weather.”
This year, she plans to travel across Kenya to visit her parents in Kisii, a cousin in the west and a family friend in Tanzania.
Food tastes right
She hopes to take a short culinary class. “Maybe one day it will help me open a restaurant.”
She also hopes to rest.
“I miss sitting by the swimming pool. I miss the music. I miss going out. I miss sleeping because the weather at home is perfect for it.”
For Gift, coming home each December is not about showing off.
She feels no pressure to act wealthy. The only pressure is the expectation of gifts.
Everything else is simple.
Home is where the food tastes right. Home is where the sun feels soft. Home is where the community holds you warmly.
Home is where she can make her hair every week without worrying about the cost. “The weather is better. The food is better. The community is better. Home is best.”
And so, every December, no matter where she is in the world, Gift Maseno boards a flight that leads her back to the same place. Back to Kenya. Back to the sun. Back to the life she knows she will always return to.
Why do Kenyans living abroad still return home every December, even when the journey is fraught with challenges?
Air tickets are costly, flights long and crowded, and most people only get short breaks.
Yet, as December approaches, a familiar longing grows. Despite the expense and limited time, they still find their way back for the festive season.
Like sailors lured by the Sirens or iron drawn to a lodestone, they heed the call of home year after year.
For many, the pull is deeply personal. One of them is Samuel Ndegwa, a 31-year-old IT consultant in Mauritius.
Samuel has spent the past seven years working on the island.
Although his career took him far from Nairobi, he never lets Christmas pass without returning home.
“I have been here for about seven years. I am in and out, but mostly here. I always go back for Christmas and for Easter if I am lucky.”
The calm of experience
At 31, he speaks with the calm of experience, but the excitement of someone who still treasures home.
When he first left Kenya, nothing was planned. “I came to Mauritius by luck,” he says.
“It was supposed to be a three-week assignment. It became three months. Before I knew it, I had a three-year work permit. The environment here is calm, the infrastructure is good, and you meet people from everywhere. It made sense for my career.”
Mauritius gave him order and convenience—things he felt Nairobi could not offer at the time.
The exposure to global companies and diverse cultures kept him there, but his heart never left Kenya.
Whenever a Kenyan holiday falls on a weekend, he gathers with other Kenyans on the island.
“We used to have an expatriates’ group, but people got busy, and it died. Later, I started a community for Kenyans in Mauritius. We meet for events, especially roasted meat, when holidays fall near weekends.”
But Christmas and Easter are different. “I have to travel home,” he says. It became a rule after spending his first year and three months abroad without a break.
“I realised I cannot stay away from my family home for a whole year. You do not want to be in Mauritius during Christmas. Most people here are Hindu and Christmas means nothing to them. It is quiet. So I travel every year.”
Coming home is a ritual soaked in familiarity.
“My first stop is always home,” Samuel says. His parents live near Nairobi, which makes the journey easy. “I go to their house in Utawala and stay a week or two before meeting friends and extended family.”
What truly pulls him back is the Kenyan spirit. “It is the people,” he says. “The culture around December is unique. Everyone is on leave, families meet, friends meet, and people travel together. The social life is full of energy. You miss that when you have been away for a whole year.”
His visits last four to six weeks. “A lot can happen in a year,” he says. “People get children, people get married, people die. It is always good to catch up. Time moves very fast when I am home.”
For Samuel, the most alive part of December is the rush of Nairobi.
“Mauritius is quiet and peaceful. I already have enough of that. When I come home, I enjoy the 24-hour life. I enjoy the roasted meat, the smoky sausage vendors and the freedom to move around at any time.”
Everyone who matters
His only pressure is meeting everyone who matters. He laughs.
“People always think you came back with money. Before, I used to feel the need to meet that expectation. Now I spend what I can. If I do not have, then I do not have.”
He often thinks about moving back for good, but fear—and the advice of those at home—slows him down.
“I have planned it many times,” he says. “But people tell you about taxes, levies and the economy. So you say, let me wait one more year, let me see what happens after the elections. I postpone it.”
Still, he carries pieces of home with him. “I love Kenyan tea. I love ugali. I always ask people travelling here to bring some. I try to eat the Kenyan way.”
Already missing home
Far away in Dublin, another Kenyan feels the same pull. His name is Collins Wafula and, unlike Samuel, he has only spent two months abroad.
Collins, 27, works in Dublin as an account manager for Sub-Saharan Africa at Google.
After just a few months abroad, he already knows where he wants to spend his festive season.
“There is no place like home,” he says. “I have always spent Christmas with my family. No matter where we are, we always find a way to be together.”
His journey abroad began with courage and curiosity.
After years in creative agencies and advertising firms in Nairobi, he took a bold step. He applied for his dream job, even though it meant leaving everything behind.
“All I did was shoot my shot,” he recalls. “I told the recruiter, you need someone like me. A few weeks later, I got the call.”
Searching for flight deals
He packed his life into three suitcases and crossed continents. He deliberately avoided asking Kenyans in Dublin for advice.
“I wanted to experience everything for myself. It felt like jumping into deep water.”
Now, barely months later, he is already searching for flight deals, hoping the holiday prices will not rise.
His family and friends are excited, though some doubt he will make it.
“They think I should have planned already,” he laughs. “Maybe the last-minute person in me will wake up on the twentieth and I will just book the quickest flight home.”
Asked what he will do first upon landing, he does not hesitate.
“I want to eat ugali,” he says. “Ugali with eggs, managu and mala. I have missed it for three months.”
He also longs for the Kenyan summer. “I want to bask. I want to feel the warmth.”
He misses the smell of rain on dry soil and the sense of relief when he sees his family.
“It feels like your heart waits to exhale until you are finally home.”
Even though he speaks to his family daily, he knows the reunion will be special.
“I expect the warmest welcome. My friends have already promised to cook for me. They want to feed me all the Kenyan food I can get.”
Living abroad has changed him, though not in the way people expect.
“The biggest change has been in my mind and emotions. You learn to see life differently. You appreciate your loved ones more because you must make up for not being there physically.”
He hopes to fly home several times a year. If he cannot make it this Christmas, he plans to enjoy a Christmas market in Dublin—or simply relax with films.
But deep down, his heart is set on home. For Collins, just like it is for many Kenyans abroad, Christmas is not complete without family, sunshine and a plate of ugali.
The uncle abroad
That familiar pull also lives in another young Kenyan thousands of kilometres away.
A scientist who has chased scholarships and built a life in academia, yet every December finds himself booking the same flight home.
Tiberias Okanga, 30, lives in the United States but returns every December.
He is a doctoral candidate in chemistry at the University of Maryland, studying environmental chemistry with a focus on air quality and environmental justice.
He moved to the US in 2023 after completing his master’s degree in Hungary.
Before leaving Kenya, he graduated with first-class honours in industrial chemistry from Jomo Kenyatta University of Agriculture and Technology in 2013.
At the same time, he explored a passion he had never studied. “I ventured into photography and media. Then the pandemic came and everything stopped.”
With events cancelled, he turned back to science and began seeking scholarships. In 2021, he received the Stipendium Hungaricum, which took him to the University of Pécs for his master’s and later opened the door to his doctoral programme.
Even while living abroad, he never stays away from Kenya for long.
Every festive season
“I travel home a lot. I was in Kenya in October and I will be back again in December.”
Home is where he chooses to spend almost every festive season.
“I book my ticket early because I am a student. Once I have that, I come home, enjoy time with my family and return to work.”
What pulls him back is clear. “Family is the first thing,” he says.
He is the only member of his family living abroad and the winter cold makes home feel even more precious.
“Winter here can be very cold and lonely. It is minus three degrees now. When you do not have people around you, it can be depressing. So I enjoy the good weather and the company of my family.”
He laughs when describing the moment he knows he is truly home.
“Everybody is speaking Swahili. Then when you pass customs with maybe some electronics, that is when you know you are home.” Even before landing, the excitement begins. “When the pilot says we are descending to Nairobi and Safaricom sends that welcome message, it feels amazing. You know you are home.”
Always a celebration
His arrival is always a celebration.
“My family and friends get excited. I am the young uncle abroad who comes home with stories. Everyone wants to hear how life is out there. We catch up on everything.”
He visits at least once a year, sometimes more. “For me, physical presence matters. You can send money and make calls, but when someone feels your touch and your smell, that is different.”
Christmas at home is lively and meaningful. “My father always made Christmas big. We slaughter goats. We start with church, then a Thanksgiving mass at home. A priest comes to say mass. Then we celebrate, invite friends, eat, drink, enjoy the day.”
His home is in Magunga, Suba South, Homa Bay County. Each return reminds him of his roots.
“When I am home, I become a villager. I put on my sandals and shorts and go grazing. I grew up with these people.”
He is unsure where he will settle after school.
“I am open. If work places me in Kenya, I will be happy. If it places me in the US, I will be happy. I have lived in different cultures. I just stay open-minded.”
But on one thing he is firm. “After retirement, I must come back home. No matter where I work, I will return to my village. That is my end goal.”
Summer Bunny
That same excitement lives in another Kenyan in Europe—Gift Maseno, a 27-year-old cyber security analyst who has built a life in Dublin.
Gift left Kenya in 2022 after receiving a full-time job offer. She still remembers her first steps out of the plane. “I got off and it was so windy,” she says with a laugh.
Her first Christmas away was spent with her Irish flatmate’s family in Cork, who hosted her warmly with plates of turkey, lamb and ham. Even so, she felt homesick.
“My mother told me I could not come home because I had just left in April. I spent Christmas there, but I was so homesick.”
That first year taught her that festive seasons abroad are vastly different. Streets grow silent, shops close early and taxis vanish.
“It shocked me. In Kenya, you wake up and the streets are alive. In Dublin, the city felt empty.”
For her, the first sign she is truly back home is not the sight of friends at the airport but the light.
“When the morning sun comes up and I see it through the plane window, that is when I know I am in Kenyan airspace. The sun here feels different.”
She also speaks of stepping back into familiar voices. A friend usually greets her with flowers.
“It feels so good. You know you look tired, but there she is, smiling and waiting.”
But above all, she comes home for food. She laughs as she lists what she craves—nyama choma, sukuma wiki, chicken wings from a popular fast-food spot, and coffee from her favourite chain.
“People say their coffee tastes like toothpaste. It is still my best coffee.”
Gift prepares for her trips early.
Drastic shift in climate
She buys gifts a month in advance because family and friends expect them. She also plans for the drastic shift in climate.
“I leave Europe dressed warm. By the time I reach Dubai to change flights, I must dress for warm weather.”
This year, she plans to travel across Kenya to visit her parents in Kisii, a cousin in the west and a family friend in Tanzania.
Food tastes right
She hopes to take a short culinary class. “Maybe one day it will help me open a restaurant.”
She also hopes to rest.
“I miss sitting by the swimming pool. I miss the music. I miss going out. I miss sleeping because the weather at home is perfect for it.”
For Gift, coming home each December is not about showing off.
She feels no pressure to act wealthy. The only pressure is the expectation of gifts.
Everything else is simple.
Home is where the food tastes right. Home is where the sun feels soft. Home is where the community holds you warmly.
Home is where she can make her hair every week without worrying about the cost. “The weather is better. The food is better. The community is better. Home is best.”
And so, every December, no matter where she is in the world, Gift Maseno boards a flight that leads her back to the same place. Back to Kenya. Back to the sun. Back to the life she knows she will always return to.
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