From Kenya to Ireland with dreams and grit

Most come on student visas, diving into business, IT, engineering, and health sciences, and others on work permits to code in startups, or crunch numbers in finance.

Housing is tricky, work needs grinding, and cold nips harder than Limuru mornings, but with unabashed dreams, Ireland transforms into the land where resilience encounters opportunity.

A dream and a gamble

When Joy Mukoya boarded her flight to Dublin nearly a year ago, she had more hope than savings. Now, the 26-year-old is deep into her Master’s in Digital and Content Marketing at the Technological University of Dublin, living out an experience she describes as “a dream come true.”

“It was always my dream to move overseas,” says Joy. “I didn’t know when or how, but I knew I’d do it whether for studies, work, or just to try life somewhere else.”

Her journey to Ireland, however, was anything but straightforward. The UK first seemed the likely destination. A visa application was in process, tests passed with flying colours, and job opportunities were already in place, in the UK. But something in her heart recoiled.

“I paused everything by December. There were conditions that I wasn’t comfortable with,” she recalls. Following a heart-to-heart talk with her father at home in Nakuru, she decided to halt her UK plans.

“He said, if it’s not what you desire, let it go. Something else will come along. This isn’t a life and death issue.’ That gave me peace of mind.”

The ‘something else’ sprung from the blues during a study abroad information session at Villa Rosa Kempinski Hotel in Nairobi. Joy admits she first attended for the “vibe”, good food, networking, and content to post online. Instead, she met an Irish representative whose words ignited a spark.

“He spoke about Ireland with so much passion. Yes, it’s costly, but he assured the people were warm, and life was manageable. I went home that day and thought, Why not Ireland?”

Four months later, visa in hand, she was on her way.

Joy arrived in Dublin last September with just three nights of Airbnb booked and no permanent accommodation. In a city gripped by a housing crisis, that gamble could have been silly. But she trusted in faith.

“I knew God had me,” she says. Incredibly, within those three days, she had found a flat that was spacious and affordable. It cost her roughly Sh75,500 per month, inclusive of utility bills. It was a bargain many Dubliners would envy.

But reality soon set in. Bi-weekly rent payments ate into her modest funds. “The first shock was to discover that I had no other place to run,” she describes. “In Kenya, when things got tough in Nairobi, I would just catch a matatu to Nakuru. Here, I had no cushion.”

The cold was another revelation. “Irish cold is not Nakuru cold,” she laughs. “Your face hurts.

The toughest challenge though was getting a job. While her sister in Australia found work after two weeks, Joy applied unsuccessfully for months. Employers wanted local experience, even for part-time retail jobs. “I cried myself to sleep so many nights,” she admits. “I felt I was failing.”

Joy’s sister advised her to reformat her CV, highlighting transferable skills, and that is when things began to fall into place.

If challenges marked her first months, kindness softened the blows. “I’ve met the nicest people here, strangers who helped me with directions, flatmates who became friends. I’ve not experienced racism, and that’s a blessing,” she says. “The Irish really are among the kindest people in the world.”

Still, Joy admits to missing home dreadfully. “I miss my parents and my close friends,” she says quietly.

Then she brightens, laughing, “And food. I’m a foodie. I miss nyama choma so much. The beef here is different; it doesn’t taste like the one at home. I make pilau and chapati, but it’s not quite the same. And avocados. Kenya has the world’s best avocados.”

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Unlike West Africans whose jollof rice and egusi soup have gone global, Joy laments the absence of Kenyan staples abroad.

“You see Nigerian and Ghanaian shops everywhere, no Kenyan ugali flour. Even the chapati here is Indian style. It makes you wonder, why don’t we have a food culture outside that’s strong?”

Despite all this, Joy has found her rhythm in Dublin.

“You get urbanised so quickly. I live by the bus timetable. If it’s coming at 8:10, I have to be ready. Miss it, and you’re 20 minutes in the cold.” She has even picked up Irish slang, What’s the crack? that’s grand, and sometimes says words in the local manner.

“It makes things easier to communicate.”

Memories are also piling up. Her first hike in Glendalough, with its two lakes and sweeping mountain views, is forever stamped in her memory. And a spontaneous trip to London had her marvelling at how simple UK travel now appeared after the visa issues of previous years.

And as far as Kenyan communities in Ireland go, Joy has chosen independence.

“There are groups and associations, yes. But I wanted to begin from scratch, push myself outside of my comfort zone. That’s how I grow,” she explains.

Ten months later, Joy is still standing, busier, wiser, and tougher. “The first three months nearly broke me,” she admits. “But now I’m coping, even living. If you hustle here, you can live well. Kenyans are tough. We know how to hustle.”

She pauses, then smiles. “Going abroad was random. But it was the best kind of random. My dream came true.”

Love and learning

When Kennedy Ngumbao moved from Nairobi in early 2023, it was not just for himself. He was moving to Italy to join his partner, who had landed a contract job with better benefits than the permanent one she had left behind. For him, it was a decision on love as much as on opportunity.

“My main motivation was to help my partner,” Kennedy describes. “Plus, I thought it was a nice chance to try out my sparse Italian and maybe open a few doors for myself.”

The transition was smooth. Most of the paperwork was handled by the employer of his partner, and since Kennedy was already working remotely for an organisation, he just carried on without any interruption. “The visa was tied to my partner’s contract. That made it straightforward. I didn’t have major issues,” he explains.

Italy welcomed him with warmth and pasta. “The culture struck me immediately,” he recalls with a smile. “The food, the art, the sense of community. Life moved more slowly, more relaxed compared to Nairobi’s rush.”

Still, there were challenges. There was the language barrier, and the bureaucratic systems appeared to be labyrinthine. But he adjusted. Later, when he moved to Ireland to pursue his postgraduate studies, the adjustment was less extreme.

“Ireland was more familiar. English made things easier, and the environment was more diverse. It felt closer to home in some ways.”

In his early 40s, Kennedy is pursuing his graduate studies at Limerick University. He is energised by the Irish attitude toward education.

“Here, learning is quite participatory,” he explains. “There’s a huge emphasis on independent research and critical thinking. In Kenya, classes were larger and more formal. Here, they’re smaller and international, and you feel nurtured as a student.”

This new style has stretched him, building confidence and curiosity.

Of course, moving abroad meant lifestyle changes.

“Financially, the higher cost of living was the first shock, especially rent and health care. Here, you pay Sh113,235 for a self-contained room with a shared kitchen and sitting room. At home, you’re always surrounded by people you know. Here, I had to start from scratch, build new friendships, and that takes effort,” shares Kennedy, who now runs a part-time retail, accommodation and sales jobs.

Culturally, he has found the people to be more individualistic. “In Kenya, community is everywhere. Here, you really have to go out of your way to make friends. But once you do, it’s rewarding. You grow in ways you didn’t expect.”

Has it been easy? Not always.

“There have been moments of loneliness,” Kennedy admits. “Homesickness creeps in, especially when you’re new and haven’t built a network yet.” But he found ways to cope, joining community activities, staying busy with school and work, and keeping close ties with home.

“I talk to my family and friends almost daily on WhatsApp or through video calls. The time zone difference is not so bad, so we stay in touch,” he says.

And racism? Kennedy shakes his head. “Fortunately, I have not come across overt racism. There are cultural misunderstandings now and then, but nothing hostile. Mostly, people have been warm.”

Although an ocean apart, Kenya is never far away. “I miss people most, the warmth, the ease of conversation, the shared humour,” Kennedy elaborates. He misses the food too as well as the spontaneity of life back home. “There’s a certain rhythm in Kenya, plans just happen. Here, everything has to be planned.”

He stays in tune with home in small but meaningful ways. “I cook chapati, pilau, and sukuma wiki. I celebrate Kenyan holidays. And I keep up with our music and stories. These things keep me grounded.”

In Ireland and Italy, he has networked with Kenyans via churches, community gatherings, and social media forums.

“The formal associations may not be active sometimes, but informal get-togethers and WhatsApp groups make a huge difference. They provide a feeling of home away from home.”

Moving has also given him memories he would not trade for anything. In Italy, he wandered Rome, Florence, and Venice, living inside postcards.

“Those cities were unforgettable. You see history on every corner,” he says.

His joys in Ireland are less wild but no less distinctive. “The scenery here is beautiful. Seaside towns, rolling hills, the green everywhere, it’s something else. And I enjoy meeting people from all over the world. Dublin is very international.”

Does Kennedy see himself relocating to Kenya permanently? He hesitates, then answers reflectively. “I’m torn. Currently, I am focusing on academic and professional growth abroad. But I do want to make a meaningful contribution to Kenya. Whether I stay there permanently or move back and forth, I know that home will always be part of the picture.”

For Kennedy, living abroad has been more than relocation; it’s been reinvention. It has meant holding on while letting go, learning new systems while preserving old traditions, loving two places at once.

“Life abroad isn’t easy,” he says, “but it changes you. It teaches resilience, and it opens your eyes to the world. I’m grateful for the chance to live it.”

From Seas to streets

When Robert Mzungu Runya first left the Kenyan in 2014, he had no idea the journey would carry him through Europe, from Brussels to Belfast, and finally to Galway, a wild Atlantic city on the Irish coast. At 36, Robert has learned to balance life between two worlds, Kenya’s warm welcome and Europe’s cold efficiency.

“The first time I moved abroad was to Belgium,” he recalls. “I was one of ten students from across the world to get a scholarship for a Masters in Marine Science.” Brussels was his classroom, but also his initiation to a new way of life.

The contrasts struck him immediately.

“The transport system was so organised, everything digital, everything on time,” he says. But beneath the efficiency was loneliness. Conversations were hard to start, friendships harder to make.

“At home, you can talk to anyone in a matatu. In Belgium, people keep to themselves. Sometimes you’d have four empty seats around you on a train.”

However, Robert adapted. He learned to read supermarket labels with the early versions of Google Translate, and how to bundle up for Europe’s chilly weather. “I realised I could dress for the cold but not the heat,” he laughs. “Now I prefer the cold over the sun.”

After his Masters, Robert returned to Mombasa, teaching undergraduates and carrying out research as a fisheries scientist. However, the pull of further education was strong.

In 2018, he won a scholarship to do a PhD in the UK. By 2023, he had travelled across the Irish Sea to Galway, where he is now working as a researcher.

Galway, in his eyes, is a treasure. “The West Coast is beautiful,” he says.

“The Cliffs of Moher, the small islands in the Atlantic, the festivals, there’s always something happening.” He speaks in wonder of the Galway Arts Festival and the boat tours that reveal the cliffs from the sea. Even the Game of Thrones–famed Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland has left its mark on him.

But behind the picture-postcard scenes lies a darker reality: Ireland’s out-of-control cost of living. “Right now, Ireland is probably the most expensive country in Europe,” Robert says.

Housing, especially, has reached crisis levels. After he moved from Belfast to Galway, he spent two weeks in a shared dormitory that cost him about Sh6,341 per night. “Back home, this amount would get me a good hotel room in Diani. Here, it only got me a bunk bed.”

Then he stayed in a house with a Jamaican host who, when she sensed that he was having a difficult time making rent, permitted him to overstay the original agreement. “She said, ‘Don’t worry, stay as long as you need to find your own place.’ I owe it to her.”

Finding permanent housing was a test of endurance. Applications demanded bank statements, employment references, and even personal essays about hobbies. Landlords could reject tenants without explanation. “Sometimes it’s just because you’re different,” Robert admits quietly.

Living abroad has also changed him in small, unnoticed ways. Timekeeping, for instance.

“You keep time in Europe, even with friends. Back home, we are more relaxed,” he says. Even social calls have to be scheduled. “In Kenya, you can drop in on a friend at home unannounced. Here, it’s all by appointment.”

Food is among his strongest connections to home. He craves Sukuma wiki, terere, saga, the vegetables that bring colour to Kenyan dishes. He occasionally obtains them in Asian stores in big Irish cities. “But it’s not the same,” he sighs.

It is community and family that he misses the most. “Back home, it’s the simple conversations, sitting down to a meal, laughing together over a cold Tusker. Those are the things you don’t get here.” However, he makes sure that he goes to Kenya annually to maintain his roots.

“Travelling makes you appreciate home more,” he says. “You realise Kenya, for all its problems, is better off in several ways than some countries in Europe.”

There is another layer of diaspora life, financial pressures. Salaries are nice on paper, but bills, electricity, rent, shared utilities, consume a lot of it.

“And there’s pressure to send money back home,” Robert explains. “Sometimes it’s a genuine need, sometimes not. But people think being overseas means unlimited money.”

For him, balance is the key. Balance between family obligations and navigating Ireland’s cost of living. Yet, through it all, Robert’s story has more gratitude than regret. He has walked Europe’s cobblestone streets, learned the seas, and built a life abroad. He has also discovered that the Kenyan spirit-- resilient, communal, welcoming--travels with him wherever he goes.

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