Tuwe ku Ssente: The call every diasporan dreads

Behind every transfer is someone who worked for that money. It is time for honest conversations about what those abroad can, and cannot, give.

Staying in touch with family and friends back home is something everyone in the diaspora values. But for many, there is a catch: almost every conversation ends with news of a problem that needs solving.

A sick cousin. A brother organising a wedding. A father who needs feed for his chickens. A distant relative trying to finish building a house. And then some get straight to the point: tuwe ku ssente- let us talk money.

It can feel as though eight in every ten calls from home end with news of someone’s hardship. The caller may not ask for help outright, but the message is clear enough. They are simply making you aware of their predicament and leaving you to decide what to do.

That is where the real dilemma begins. When someone tells you they are struggling, do you help? And if you do, how much is enough?

A recent discussion on the subject on a WhatsApp chat drew a lively debate. Many participants said they give what they can afford. But that only raises another question: what is enough when the needs never seem to end?

Part of the problem is the image many in the diaspora have, often unintentionally, painted of their lives abroad. Social media is full of photographs of parties, expensive drinks, trips to exotic destinations and exclusive events.

What is missing is the larger part of life: long shifts, sleepless nights, demanding jobs and the struggle to build social and professional connections in unfamiliar places. Many have grown used to waking to an alarm so they can get to work on time. A morning without one feels like a holiday.

Even when people abroad share these realities, those back home may struggle to grasp what they mean financially. Earning in dollars, pounds or euros does not mean having money to spare. There are mortgages or rent, electricity, gas, water, transport and food to pay for. Beyond that, many are trying to save, invest and secure their own futures. A stronger currency is not a bottomless one.

So here is a blunt question: have you ever asked someone in the diaspora how much they actually earn before deciding how much they should send?

It may feel awkward, but such a conversation could open eyes on both sides. It would show that those abroad are not living comfortably and handing out money at will. They are working for a living, like everyone else.

Consider what it takes to send home $200. Depending on a person’s wage, that could be several hours of work, perhaps a full day’s effort for someone on a lower hourly rate.

Imagine waking early, commuting, putting in a demanding shift, and then deciding that part of what you earned will go to someone else. You may have planned to spend it on yourself, but you give it up because someone back home needs it. If people understood the effort behind every transfer, they might value the sacrifice more.

Instead, some in the diaspora have been called misers or selfish simply because they sent less than expected. The irony is that those making the demands might not make the same sacrifice if the roles were reversed.

One participant in the discussion shared an experience that captured this frustration. Whenever they asked someone, they had sent hundreds of dollars to run an errand, the first question was always: “Sente za bodaboda?” money for transport? It is a small example, but it says a great deal. Even after sending money, they were still expected to pay for the trip to carry out the very errand they had funded.

The discussion also showed how overwhelming the requests can become. One participant had received six requests for school fees, each averaging about Sh1.5 million. That is a heavy commitment, particularly when the requests arrive at once.

Others spoke about lending money to friends and relatives. Some borrowers take the obligation seriously: one even drew up a repayment schedule with specific dates and has so far repaid about 60 per cent of the loan.

Others treat a loan as little more than a way to get money, making promises they have no intention of keeping. Once the money changes hands, calls go unanswered, excuses multiply, and the lender is left wondering whether the relationship ever mattered.

When the borrower is a relative or friend, chasing repayment is especially uncomfortable. Asking for your own money back risks being branded selfish or unhelpful. Many would rather write the money off than endure the strain.

Naturally, the conversation turned to longer-term solutions. Instead of sending money again and again, why not help people start businesses that can support them?

In theory, this is an excellent idea. Rather than offering temporary relief, you invest in someone’s ability to earn a living and become independent.

In practice, the results are often disappointing. Some people present promising ideas, but once the capital arrives, the enthusiasm fades. If you are lucky, you get updates for the first three months. Then come the stories and excuses, until you tire of asking and walk away.

Others have tried finding jobs for relatives and paying their monthly salaries until they find their feet. Even this can fail; some lose interest or abandon the job once they discover that their relative abroad, not the employer, is paying their wages.

However, not every effort ends badly. A few recipients stay focused, start small and build sustainable businesses. Their success shows the model can work when the recipient is committed and the support is properly managed. But for many others, financial help still feels like pouring money into a bottomless pit.

None of this means people back home should stop asking for help, or that those abroad should turn their backs on family and friends. Life is unpredictable, and genuine emergencies call for collective support. Family obligations matter, wherever one lives.

The problem begins when help becomes an expectation rather than an act of generosity; when every call carries the possibility of another obligation; and when saying no is taken as a lack of love.

There must be room for honest conversations about income, expenses, personal goals and financial limits. Those asking for help should recognise that earning abroad comes with its own costs and pressures. Those giving should be able to set boundaries without guilt. Helping someone should not mean jeopardising your own future.

So the next time you call someone abroad to contribute to a friend’s birthday party, a weekend trip or some other non-essential expense, pause and ask yourself: would you work a full day, give up what you earned and hand it to someone else so they could enjoy themselves?

If the answer is no, perhaps it is time to reconsider what you expect from the people you call.

Behind every transfer is a person who worked for that money, made sacrifices to earn it and chose to share it with you. That choice deserves appreciation, not entitlement.