From left: Chris Ochieng, Annabel Nyole and Carolyne Atieno who all live and work in the Netherlands.
Did you know that the Netherlands has about 23 million bicycles to serve its 17 to 18 million people? Cycling there is not just transport, it is history. After World War II and the 1970s oil crisis, the Dutch turned bikes into a way of life.
When Annabel Nyole, an urban planner, arrived in the Netherlands in 2023, what struck her most was not the architecture she had long admired, but the bicycles. The children cycle to school, the elderly balance shopping bags on two wheels, and corporate executives pedal to meetings.
For Annabel, who had navigated Nairobi’s crowded streets before moving to Groningen, the Dutch cycling culture was more than a lifestyle quirk, and it was a living case study in urban planning.
Driven by curiosity and professional passion, the 28-year-old was intrigued by the Dutch cities and their systems.
“I wondered, ‘how do these systems work so well? “How do they reclaim land from the sea? I wanted to see it for myself,” she tells Nation Lifestyle.
Annabel Nyole, 28, is an urban planner and researcher who arrived in the Netherlands in 2023.
Annabel went to the Netherlands through the Orange Knowledge Programme scholarship, a collaboration between the Kenyan and the Dutch governments.
“My biggest hurdle was at the Kenyan embassy; the journey to get a visa was long,” she says.
Her first impression of the Netherlands came alive even before the plane touched down. From her window seat, she saw a blanket of green fields, perfectly squared and arranged. “It was so organised,” she remembers.
But the airport introduced chaos of a different kind. A friend, nervous about stepping onto an escalator with heavy suitcases, ended up dragging them down the moving steps as people watched. Annabel laughs at the memory, calling it her “first landing moment in the Netherlands.”
Culture shocks came swiftly. At a student lunch, the announcement of a buffet stirred excitement. “We were expecting meat, a full spread,” she says. Instead, the “buffet” turned out to be soup, salad, and sandwiches.
The casual Dutch dress code also surprised her. “Even in formal offices, people wear jeans and sneakers.”
Then, of course, there was the weather. However, the hardest moments were about identity. At conferences, Annabel sometimes found herself the only black person in the room. But she learnt to lean on her sense of self.
“You remind yourself why you’re here and what credentials brought you.”
In Groningen, where about 60 per cent of all journeys are made by bicycle, she found a community waiting for her. Kenyans at a local church welcomed her warmly, offering a space to speak Swahili and share home-cooked meals.
“Here, groups like the Kenya Diaspora Alliance introduced me to cultural events like Madaraka Day, Mashujaa Day, complete with chapati, music, and Kenyan culture,” she tells Nation Lifestyle.
Really master cycling
Among her most memorable moments in the Netherlands was learning to cycle again. Though she had ridden as a child, the Dutch cycling culture initially intimidated her. “People here cycle like cars drive, it’s crazy!” she laughs.
Life in the Netherlands, however, comes with a steep price tag.
“This is one of the most expensive countries in Europe,” she says.
Rent in Amsterdam averages between Sh228,000 and Sh304,000 a month.
“Even in Groningen, a good apartment can cost sh228,000. Groceries are pricey, and red meat in particular is about Sh2,300 a kilogramme, making beef a rare luxury.”
What she loves most is the quality of life, cycling to the gym past canals, watching elderly residents swim in the mornings, and seeing children play in the city waters during summer. Work-life balance also stands out. “If it’s 8am to 5pm, it’s 8am to 5pm. Beyond that, you wait until the next day.”
The shift has changed more than her daily routine. It has reshaped how she views life itself. In Kenya, she described herself in “constant hustle mode,” always chasing the next opportunity.
Someday, Annabel plans to return home. “It’s my people, it’s my home.”
She hopes to carry back not just knowledge but networks, resources, and fresh perspectives that can reshape Kenyan cities. Until then, she continues to live between worlds with the freedom of Dutch canals and bicycles, and the pull of Kenya’s vibrant, unfinished story.
Chris Ochieng, 43, a former clinical officer from Kisii now shaping finance while leading the Kenyan diaspora community in the Netherlands.
Like Annabel, who cycled her way into Dutch life, Chris Ochieng enjoys dual belonging, now a Dutch citizen while still tied to home. For him, settling abroad meant not bicycles, but mastering language, career, and a community.
Chris is 43 years old and calls the Dutch city of Breda home. Breda sits near the border of Belgium, a town with cobbled streets and a calm charm that contrasts with the noisy bustle of Nairobi.
He first landed in the Netherlands in 2009. What took him there was not love or work, but a chase for education. He enrolled at Erasmus University in Rotterdam, pursuing a Bachelor’s degree in International Business Management. Later, he went on to Tilburg University for his Master’s degree in International Management.
Life in the Netherlands unfolded differently than he had imagined.
“In my second year of university, a friend introduced me to the international department of AB, one of the big banks in the country,” he recalls.
“I joined as a working student, using the few hours I was permitted to work while studying.” That chance connection turned into something bigger. “I still work with the same bank to this day,” he says, proof that luck, timing, and persistence can intertwine to shape a career.
But Chris’s story didn’t begin with banking. Before moving abroad, he worked as a clinical officer in Kisii, Kenya.
Arriving in the Netherlands brought surprises. The first was language. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a place where people are speaking, having fun, but you don’t understand anything,” he says.
The Dutch love their language. Chris eventually took lessons, passed exams and now speaks Dutch fluently, a necessity in his banking career where meetings often switch between Dutch and English.
He says the visa process was easy for him. He walked into the embassy with his documents, passport, bank statements and university papers.
“Within one week, my passport was ready.”
But there were also moments of loneliness.
“In Kenya, we are overly social,” he says.
Greeting strangers on the street is natural, but in the Netherlands, people seem startled when a stranger says hello.
University friends helped fill the gap, many of them from Nigeria, the Caribbean, and Latin America. Together, they shared food, language, and laughter.
Over time, Chris became part of something larger. Today, he serves as the chairperson of the Kenyan Diaspora in the Netherlands, a role that brings him close to new arrivals, helping them settle and celebrate traditions.
“Kenyan events are vibrant here, Mashujaa Day, Madaraka Day, and end-of-summer parties are organised by communities like the Luo Diaspora,” he says.
One of Chris’s most memorable milestones came when he became a Dutch citizen, gaining dual nationality: “It was surreal,” as he puts it, describing the moment he held his new passport. What began as a temporary study plan turned into over a decade of life, friendships, and opportunities.
Nevertheless, the Netherlands is not a cheap place to live. “A student studio apartment can cost between Sh92,000 and Sh121,000.”
Chris pays a mortgage of Sh228,000 a month, which he considers better than renting. Groceries are regulated to keep basic foods like bread and milk affordable, but anything imported or organic is expensive.
Healthcare, too, is tightly regulated. Everyone must have insurance. Despite calling Breda home, Kenya remains close to his heart. He travels back three to four times a year to see his family and keep connections alive. “Basically, the plan is, in the end, I’ll be settling back home,” he says.
Carolyne Atieno, 27, is a Master’s student in Facilities and Real Estate Management in Deventer. She is the founder of Rafiki.org a platform for internationals to travel.
Away from the steady roots in the Netherlands, Carolyne Atieno’s is about learning to go the Dutch way, splitting bills, adjusting to directness, and even discovering that a single slice of pizza can count as dinner.
“I’m currently a Master’s student in Facilities and Real Estate Management here in the Netherlands,” says the 27-year-old.
Her journey to Europe began in October 2023, when she first landed as an au pair [a young person who goes to live with a host family in a foreign country to help with childcare in exchange for accommodation, meals, and a small allowance.]
She chuckles when she remembers how unprepared she was for the Dutch autumn.
“I travelled in summer clothes, even with a summer hat,” she says.
“When I got to Schiphol airport in Amsterdam, the wind swept my hat away. I asked my host if it was better outside, and she told me, ‘It’s worse.’ That was my welcome to the Netherlands.”
Before crossing continents, Carolyne had graduated from Jkuat with a Bachelor’s degree in real estate in 2022. She had even started her career at Equity Bank in Kakamega.
“I always had the desire to relocate abroad. Around that time, I was admitted to a US university with an 80 percent scholarship, but I couldn’t raise the balance. That’s when I decided to try the au pair programme.”
Her first cultural shocks were immediate. The Dutch directness, she recalls, felt almost brutal at first. In Kenya, she was used to conservative ways.
But here, “if you ask a question, you get the exact answer. No sugarcoating.”
She also discovered pizza could be dinner.
“That night, my host gave me pizza at 6pm. I thought it was an appetiser. By 9pm, I was hungry. Back home, we eat ugali for dinner.”
Today, after nearly two years, she laughs that she, too, gets full from a single slice of pizza.
Settling in has not been easy.
“Most of the time I don’t feel like I belong,” Carolyne admits.
At work, sometimes conversations happen in Dutch. My Dutch is improving, but it’s still not easy to follow fast discussions.”
She recalls sitting in class when a lecturer played a video that mocked an African country.
“I told him if I were from that country, I’d feel offended. He apologised again and again. At least here, you can speak up and people will listen.”
Loneliness didn’t last. As an outgoing person, she had connected with Kenyans and joined the Luo community board. She helps organise cultural events.
“It’s not just for Luos, but for all Kenyans, East Africans, and even locals who want to join.”
Carolyne has also been busy building opportunities for others. In May, she launched Rafiki.org, a platform for internationals to travel, connect, and learn Dutch.
“It can be really hard being an international here. Rafiki gives people a chance to find purpose, travel, and interact.”
Travelling has become part of her Dutch life. She admires Amsterdam for its canals and museums, but her favorite is Giethoorn, a village in the Netherlands.
There have been awkward moments, too; she encountered Dutch dating culture. After a date that didn’t go anywhere, the man texted her three months later demanding half of a Sh23,000 bill.
“He even sent me a bank statement. I never paid him, but I found it so funny. Here, people believe in 50-50 even on dates.”
The cost of living, she says, is “crazily expensive.” She gives the example of avocados. “In Kenya, the most expensive avocado is Sh40. Here, I pay sh304.”
Housing is another challenge. Students pay Sh92,00 to Sh121,000 for tiny studios. Despite the costs and challenges, Carolyne loves the Netherlands for its safety and structure.
