Prof Laban Ayiro’s Jewish zeal and Kenyan grit

Between 1995 and 2000, he was the Senior Principal of Sunshine Secondary School, a post that earned him the Silver Star of Kenya—a Presidential National Award for Outstanding Leadership Performance at the School.

As a civil servant, Prof Ayiro has served as Provincial Director of Education, Deputy Director of Staff Training (Kenya Education Management Institute), Senior Deputy Director for Policy and Planning at the Ministry Headquarters, Senior Deputy Director for Research and Curriculum Development at the Kenya Institute of Curriculum Development, and acting Vice Chancellor, Moi University.

And while the hallowed halls of higher education can easily become hubs of convocation and acculturation, Prof Ayiro remains a student of life, well-read in the book of experience, the teacher of the teachers.

At 71, a venerated veteran, he is still as hungry as a precocious prodigy. “My philosophy is do the work, and the shillings will follow you,” he says.

Without using ‘fine’ or ‘okay’, how are you really, Prof?

I am trying to get the best out of life by serving the Daystar community and ensuring that my leadership brings delight. Whether a student arrives hungry, struggling with illness, or burdened by personal challenges, I make it a priority to offer encouragement and prayer.

Recognising and uplifting others, be it a janitor whose dedication deserves a letter of commendation or the mama mboga who supports our students with generous discounts, goes a long way to bring delight.

During graduation ceremonies, I advocate for the university to provide a token of appreciation, such as awarding mama mboga Sh40,000 to help grow her business.

For me, delight takes many forms. When I first joined Daystar, the School of Law had just 50 students in a rented room costing Sh3.5 million, along with a full staff.

We made the tough decision to move operations to our Athi River main campus, making use of underutilised classrooms. Today, the School of Law has grown to 600 students. In every action, I strive to lead with empathy, making leadership authentic and meaningful. And yes, sometimes when Liverpool loses, I head to the chapel and admit to the congregation that I’m not in the best mood to pray [chuckles].

You are a Liverpool fan?

Yes. When the player Diogo Jota died, I received a lot of condolence messages. Empathy is important. I grew up in Kibera. My father was a driver at the Kenyatta National Hospital.

Back then, we had clean pit latrines in Kibera. Nubian mothers in Kibera were so particular about cleanliness. Now, everything has deteriorated; Kibera has flying toilets. This is a problem of leadership because if you don't have feeling [empathy] in your leadership, you lose it.

Is there a truth about leading people that you wish you had learned earlier in your life?

Yes, I am not the Ayiro who was at Moi [University]. Daystar has impacted me in leadership aspects I never imagined, like humility. It's not in toughness, but rather in exhibiting vulnerability, that the people you lead feel for you. That's something Daystar has taught me.

What does humility look like?

[Sighs] Picking the broom. Crying with the suffering. Having the ability to listen, even when you don't quite agree with the idea being put across. Just listen, somebody might bring up an aspect that then enables you to relate to their situation.

Are you ever haunted by the man you were in Moi University, do you have an itch to prove to them that they made the wrong choice to let you go?

First of all, I'd never been to Daystar, nor did I know where Lukenya was. My coming to Daystar came in a mysterious way. And that's where God comes in, because somebody called me on the phone.

I was at the World Bank consulting on higher education when the strange caller said, ‘Hello, is that Professor Ayiro?’ I said, Yes. ‘Have you seen the Daily Nation page?’, the caller enquired and added, ‘There was a very small strip of advert that this university is looking for someone. Please apply.’ To date, I've never known that person.

No. I don't want to prove something because this mission is bigger than me. Many people wanted this job, and even campaigned for it, asking, ‘How are you bringing a man without a collar to our university?’ But look at what God did. I presented myself, just as I was, and I got the job. I think, if there's anybody who is teaching a lesson here, it's God.

You speak a lot about humility. Was there an instance in your life in which you did the opposite?

Oh yeah, there are several, from staying in Kibera to going to Upper Hill. I was admitted to Mang’u High School. And in those days, schools mattered. If a child went to Mang’u High School, or Alliance, or Kenya High, it was assumed they were already destined for greatness. That arrogance gets into you; you bathe too much in that glory.

And so in my case, when the results came, I hadn't been picked to do medicine because I had not done as well as was expected. Instead, I got a job at Unga Limited, and my late mother and grandmother came to Nairobi and begged me to pursue education.

I remember my mom telling me, ‘You know, you wanted to be a doctor. But God wanted you to be a teacher. And you will be a great teacher.’ It was a profound statement, and I quote it in most of my writings.

If you were to interview yourself for just one thing, what would that be?

For me, a job is not just about commitment—it’s about sacrifice. There is immense power in true sacrifice, yet so many people shy away from it.

If we all embraced sacrifice for the greater good, Kenya could transform dramatically within a year. Personally, I am willing to set aside personal interests and even ethnic loyalties to serve the nation and those who deserve it.

When I joined Daystar, the institution was burdened with almost Sh200 million in loan deficits. Through a spirit of self-sacrifice, we have turned the tide—Daystar has run budget surpluses for the last four years.

Sacrifice means burning away selfishness and putting others before yourself. There are fundamental values in leadership, and sometimes people see my kindness as a weakness. Yet, in over 30 years, I have never written a warning letter for anyone. Have I succeeded? That’s for others to decide.

What would surprise the boy you once were about the man you now are?

My level of poverty. I grew up in Kibera, where, together with my friends, I have built a school for children and a home for the vulnerable in Kiserian. But maybe I had many lucky breaks. For instance, my father, being a driver, had a Jewish couple at the medical research centre, which is now Kemri.

They liked my father because of his loyalty, and so they offered to take me in and transferred me from Mbagathi Primary to Spring Valley [General Mathenge now].

Before that, I had never used a toilet or sat down at a dining table to have a meal with the family. So, you can understand my shyness, not eating well because I couldn’t hold the knives and forks properly [chuckles].

But that lucky break shaped my character for the better. Many people say I'm very Jewish, meaning I am determined and relentless.

The Jewish doctrine is that somebody can take away everything, but as long as they leave you with your brain, you can become again. I love books, and I read three at a time. This is my favourite, The Second Mountain by David Brooks. And Running with the Bulls is also one that I consider among the best.

When you're running with the bulls, you have to be very careful that you are not trampled on. And then there is The Virtue Proposition by Sig Berg that is really pushing me to transform my leadership. The intensity of purpose about the Jewish people is astounding. They work very hard.

What were your dreams growing up?

I wanted to become a doctor and take care of my poor mother. Unfortunately, she passed on, and because she had only one child, my father was pushed to marry my stepmother—they kept asking him, ‘Why are you walking with only one eye?’ Soon, I had siblings. I wish she were alive to bear witness to what I have become: to have a vehicle, a driver—but that was not God’s plan.

How are you defining fatherhood?

[Sighs] Sometimes, I think I push my children too hard, and some say as much. They come to me and say, ‘Dad, you are a real problem to us.’ All my children have finished college, and I keep pushing them to add a masters or take another degree [chuckles].

It’s the Jewish mentality—the Jewish people believe everybody in the home must have a sound education. God has blessed me; I have two lawyers, a doctor, et al. But I still struggle with other aspects of their lives.

Are you a grandfather now?

Yes, of 12!

Twelve?

The other weekend, 10 of them came to visit me at my house in Athi River. And today [Wednesday 13 August] is my birthday, I turn 71.

Happy Birthday!

Thank you [chuckles]. So, when they are with me, it’s perfect. The eldest is in Form Four. Don’t look so surprised. I married young, at 21, because of pressure from my mother. I am forever grateful to her because while parenting, I had the energy to box my sons.

What do you hope your children remember about you when they are your age?

A loving father. I want them to remember me as somebody who gave them everything and loved them. I've already given all my daughters property. I don't have much, I'm not rich, but everybody has something, even my sons, but I've told them the rest is for my grandchildren.

You are a man of considerable success. What has success not fixed?

I've had very painful moments in my life. I lost my daughter, so it didn't matter how successful I was. She suffered a lot. Luckily, she was survived by a girl, who is now in Grade 9 and is now ‘my daughter’.

Success couldn't stop that. I also lost a very close friend last year. My success could not have helped, because he wasn't sick. This is somebody who knew my bank account numbers. I knew his. When I got the Mercedes, I gave him my Prado.

Or the sickness of my wife. She's now been bedridden for 15 years. We’ve taken her to Germany, India…but she has a degenerative disease.

All we can do is take her for chirotherapy and physiotherapy twice a week. It breaks my heart that she's not enjoying what we laboured for, what we’ve built, having started when I only had one shirt. She keeps on reminding me about the colour of the shirt.

What colour was it?

It was orange. Can you imagine? [chuckles] She remembers that, even when I went to meet President Moi, when I was going to Sunshine, she reminded me recently that she washed and ironed my jacket.

I just wish she could live it too. Success hasn’t fixed that. The other one is tribalism. Even in Moi [university], when I took over, I got a delegation from Western Kenya telling me to get rid of my driver, bodyguard, et al. Never. They are still very loyal to me. I don't know why I have not influenced people to stop tribalism. That pains me.

Losing your parents, daughter, and your wife’s condition…how have you held it all together despite the pangs of personal pain?

I have told God to give me the grace to walk with her. And you know, an incapacitated person easily gets into depression. So, scripture helps, but also the happiness I experience when people just say ‘Thank you’. And then prayers.

Do you know my contract was renewed last year in January, a year before my term ended, because I had told them I am a one-term Vice Chancellor…there was a lot of counselling to get me to stay.

Prof, how do you measure a life well lived?

The products. The influence and impact you have on fellow human beings. Even after I left Moi University, people still called me to go and talk to them.

There are people who call a PS or CS, but they are not calling that person; but the office. When you are not in that position, and people can still invite you, then I have had a fulfilling life. Plus, my grandchildren and wider family give me that.

What is a question about your own life that people never ask you, but you wish they would?

Do I look 71? [chuckles] It’s the grace of God, but I eat traditional foods. I do a lot of giving to churches as a PAG, [Pentecostal Assemblies of God] congregant.

Would you choose this life again?

When I come back, I want to be a saint. St Laban. One of my most humbling moments is when I met the late Pope Francis because of those trees in Athi River.

The ambassador came for mass in the local parish and we invited him for lunch at Daystar and he looked at the trees and said, ‘You must meet the Pope’, because Pope Francis’s Philosophy of Laudato SI was all about caring for Mother Nature. We went, attended mass, and I had 11 minutes with Pope Francis. I cannot explain it; I was humbled.

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