From Chokora to Commando: Life Hacks the Streets Taught Me (That Harvard Never Will)

 

Street boys Popularly known as Chokora's playing Cards. Photo/Cargo the Chokora Movie.

Ladies and gentlemen, loyal readers, frenemies, and those who just clicked here to confirm if I really said what I said—yes, I’m about to say it again: very few of you, if any, can match my life experience. Don’t fight me, fight your childhood.

Now, before you ask why I’m not the president of this great republic, I’ll tell you: it’s not because of votes, scandals, or even haters—it’s the age limit. God and the Constitution are in an unholy alliance to keep me away from State House.

For those who’ve read my memoir Roads Less Travelled: A Street Kid’s Memoir (dropping online October 9th—please clap), you already know I’ve lived several lifetimes. I was once a “Commando” on the streets, famously known as Chokora for three years, back when Nokia 3310s ruled the earth. Transformation? That’s my middle name. If you’ve gone from sniffing glue in Makutano to holding an M.A. degree, please see me—we could co-star in this sitcom called Life.

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Street Lessons You Won’t Find in Any University

Lesson One: Insults Don’t Stick.

You can curse me until your vocabulary runs out, but my shirt remains insult-free. I’ll simply smile, excuse myself politely, and leave you with your anger like a hot potato no one asked for.

Lesson Two: Violence is Outdated.

Back in my Chokora era, the best fighter ruled the block. Today? The guy with brains does. You can punch your way into prison if you like, but the street has upgraded its operating system. These days, you might unknowingly throw hands with a lawyer, judge, or someone’s uncle who “knows people.” Next thing you know, you’re in remand, and your opponent is sipping whiskey at Serena.

Lesson Three: “Yes, I Know” is a Superpower.

If you ask me in Mikocheni whether I know someone selling land or cars, I’ll say yes. Then I’ll hustle my way to someone who actually does. That’s how doors open. But if you ask me about peddlers or shady business, my answer is: “Bruh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Don’t test me.

Lesson Four: Don’t Hit Your Woman in Public.

My fellow men, listen carefully: never, ever, ever hit your woman in front of other men. They will descend on you like hyenas at a goat roast. And no, I’m not saying you should do it in private—that’s called barbaric. I’m saying: don’t do it at all. Unless you like free hospital food.

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Degrees Don’t Cancel Street PhDs

Some of you think dropping out of Form Two qualifies you to look down on me. Please, my friend. I’ve got an M.A., but more importantly, I’ve got a PhD in Surviving Streets University. I studied 54 courses in human communication, and now I can smell lies before you open your mouth. Don’t try me.

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Final Word (Before You Pre-Order My Book)

My dear diehard readers—from Mikocheni crew, Aquadel Drinking Water staff, kwa Cobbler, kwa Mwendi, kwa Mama Beshty, The Hub Gitimbine, and even kwa Luka where love and hate are served daily—I see you, I love you, and I’ll continue sharing these nuggets.

But until my memoir drops, remember: I’ve been there, done that, and if life were a movie, I’d already be the box office king.

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About the Author

Felix Kinyua is a writer, communicator, and survivor of the school of hard knocks—literally. From his early years as a street kid in Makutano, famously known as Chokora, to earning a Master’s degree in Communication and Media, Felix has lived a life that reads like a movie script. His memoir, Roads Less Travelled: A Street Kid’s Memoir, captures this extraordinary journey with humour, grit, and raw honesty. When he’s not writing, you’ll likely find him with friends in Mikocheni, sharing laughter, stories, and a reminder that resilience is the real superpower.

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