𝗞𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗶𝗻 𝗡𝘆𝗮𝗺𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲

Join me live on Good Morning Kenya as we unpack whether marriage is truly under siege and what must be done to restore it.

Today is my birthday.
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𝐀𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 & 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐈𝐓 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔 (𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔)
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This May, Africa hosts one of the most strategic gatherings of visionary leaders, innovators, policymakers, investors, and entrepreneurs from across the globe.

Do not be left out.

The African Business & Leadership Summit 2026 is a premier continental platform designed to drive Africa’s growth through innovation, strategic leadership, and collaboration.

🌍 35+ Countries Represented
👥 1000+ High-Level Participants
🎤 Top Industry Speakers & Executives
🤝 Unmatched Networking, Partnership, and Investment Opportunities

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𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃
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- Because decisions shaping Africa’s future will be made here.

- Because partnerships that define industries will be formed here.

- Because opportunities that transform lives, businesses, and organisations will be unlocked here.

From government leaders and CEOs to investors, innovators, and thought leaders, this is where Africa connects, collaborates, and rises.

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𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒
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📅 Date: 12th - 13th May 2026
📍 Venue: MUSON Centre, Onikan, Lagos, Nigeria

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𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
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To register, kindly complete the official registration form below:
https://forms.gle/t37s9pgpUepj3VdV7

For sponsorship and partnership enquiries:
📞 +234 907 170 6402
📞 +234 904 829 2950
📧 [email protected]

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If you are serious about business, leadership, and Africa’s future, you cannot afford to miss this.

👉 Secure your place. Be in the room where it happens.

I was on stage when former Vice President of Botswana, Slumber Tsogwane, came in, and I knew at once that this was one of those moments a man stores away carefully, like a letter he means to read again in old age.

He entered without fuss, which is often the surest sign of real stature. He had on a well-cut grey suit, a striped tie laid neatly upon a white shirt, and the kind of composure I lack adjectives to describe. Some men wear power like borrowed robes, stiffly and with too much awareness of themselves. He wore his lightly. He looked like a man who had long since made peace with responsibility and had no need to advertise it.

The programme was already in motion. I invited Dr. Norman Paul Desire for the invocation. Dr. Celestin Ngirabakunzi gave the opening remarks. Then my duty led me to welcome Hon. Tsogwane as chief guest. Until then, I had had a moment with the other speakers, but not with him. So I watched him with that quiet attention one gives to a man one has heard of, but not yet measured at close range.

He rose to speak, and almost at once the room settled into him.

He was soft-spoken, but there was nothing faint about him. His words came with order, his humour with ease, and his reflections with the kind of maturity that does not strain to sound wise. He spoke as one accustomed to thought, and, better still, as one accustomed to people. That combination is rarer than many imagine. I have always said that when a well has deep water, it does not quarrel with the bucket. So it was with him. There was depth in him, and the room felt it.

As he spoke, I found myself both listening and reflecting. Here was a man who had served Botswana at the highest levels, a man seasoned by years in Parliament and later in the vice presidency, yet what struck me most was his humanity. He sounded natural. He sounded like a man who had not lost himself inside public life.

When he finished, the conference moved on, as conferences do, with one speaker following another and the machinery of programme pressing forward. Yet in my own mind one thought remained. I wanted, at some point, to greet him properly, to exchange a word, perhaps even to build the beginning of a connection. There were, however, many others who wanted the same privilege. In such matters I have never been a pushing sort of man. I do not wrestle for proximity. I have seen too many people scramble for importance as though it were bread being thrown into a crowd.

So I waited.

I stood at a little distance and told myself that if the right moment came, it would come decently. There are times in life when one must let a thing ripen rather than pluck it green. I was still in that mood when I felt a hand tap me lightly on the back.

I turned.

He was seated at his table, and it was he himself, Slumber Tsogwane, making a small gesture with his hand for me to come over.

I went at once, of course, though I hope with some appearance of calm. He received me warmly, looked at me in that open manner which generous men have, and said, “Great man, great man,” before handing me his card.

Now, a person may describe such a moment plainly enough, yet plain description does not always carry the true weight of feeling. I was touched. I was humbled. I was, in that instant, reminded that good work has a way of travelling ahead of its owner. A man may stand quietly in the room and still be found by the very thing he was too modest to chase.

That, indeed, is the lesson I drew from it, and it is one I repeat often, especially to the young. When work is placed in your hands, do it well. Do it thoroughly. Do it with honour. There is a kind of excellence that speaks before you do. There is a kind of diligence that introduces a man in places where his name has not yet been pronounced. I usually say that the path does not praise the traveller, but it remembers the feet that walked it faithfully.

People sometimes ask me what the secret is. They see the networks, the invitations, the travel, the speaking, the coaching, and they imagine there must be some hidden door through which I passed while others were looking elsewhere. There is no mystery grander than persistence. We started together, many of us. Some grew tired. Some abandoned the thing too early. I remained with it. I kept faith with the work. At a point when many of my peers chose the safer road, I turned toward the road that matched the size of the dream I carried. It was not the easier road. It was simply mine.

So yes, I left that encounter grateful, and more than grateful, strengthened. I believe something meaningful may yet come from that connection, particularly for the young people of Africa, for whom I carry a very serious burden. But even if nothing else had come of it, the lesson itself would have been enough.

For the world has a curious habit. It often appears not to notice. It keeps a straight face while you labour. It gives little sign while you pour yourself out. Then one day, without warning, it turns, calls you by name, and places a card in your hand.

So I say this again, and I say it as one who has seen a little of life. Keep going. Stay with the work. Remain faithful to your assignment. The door you are too shy to knock on may one day open from the inside.

©️ Kelvin Nyamache
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Slumber Tsogwane

I was on stage when former Vice President of Botswana, Slumber Tsogwane, came in, and I knew at once that this was one of those moments a man stores away carefully, like a letter he means to read again in old age.

He entered without fuss, which is often the surest sign of real stature. He had on a well-cut grey suit, a striped tie laid neatly upon a white shirt, and the kind of composure I lack adjectives to describe. Some men wear power like borrowed robes, stiffly and with too much awareness of themselves. He wore his lightly. He looked like a man who had long since made peace with responsibility and had no need to advertise it.

The programme was already in motion. I invited Dr. Norman Paul Desire for the invocation. Dr. Celestin Ngirabakunzi gave the opening remarks. Then my duty led me to welcome Hon. Tsogwane as chief guest. Until then, I had had a moment with the other speakers, but not with him. So I watched him with that quiet attention one gives to a man one has heard of, but not yet measured at close range.

He rose to speak, and almost at once the room settled into him.

He was soft-spoken, but there was nothing faint about him. His words came with order, his humour with ease, and his reflections with the kind of maturity that does not strain to sound wise. He spoke as one accustomed to thought, and, better still, as one accustomed to people. That combination is rarer than many imagine. I have always said that when a well has deep water, it does not quarrel with the bucket. So it was with him. There was depth in him, and the room felt it.

As he spoke, I found myself both listening and reflecting. Here was a man who had served Botswana at the highest levels, a man seasoned by years in Parliament and later in the vice presidency, yet what struck me most was his humanity. He sounded natural. He sounded like a man who had not lost himself inside public life.

When he finished, the conference moved on, as conferences do, with one speaker following another and the machinery of programme pressing forward. Yet in my own mind one thought remained. I wanted, at some point, to greet him properly, to exchange a word, perhaps even to build the beginning of a connection. There were, however, many others who wanted the same privilege. In such matters I have never been a pushing sort of man. I do not wrestle for proximity. I have seen too many people scramble for importance as though it were bread being thrown into a crowd.

So I waited.

I stood at a little distance and told myself that if the right moment came, it would come decently. There are times in life when one must let a thing ripen rather than pluck it green. I was still in that mood when I felt a hand tap me lightly on the back.

I turned.

He was seated at his table, and it was he himself, Slumber Tsogwane, making a small gesture with his hand for me to come over.

I went at once, of course, though I hope with some appearance of calm. He received me warmly, looked at me in that open manner which generous men have, and said, “Great man, great man,” before handing me his card.

Now, a person may describe such a moment plainly enough, yet plain description does not always carry the true weight of feeling. I was touched. I was humbled. I was, in that instant, reminded that good work has a way of travelling ahead of its owner. A man may stand quietly in the room and still be found by the very thing he was too modest to chase.

That, indeed, is the lesson I drew from it, and it is one I repeat often, especially to the young. When work is placed in your hands, do it well. Do it thoroughly. Do it with honour. There is a kind of excellence that speaks before you do. There is a kind of diligence that introduces a man in places where his name has not yet been pronounced. I usually say that the path does not praise the traveller, but it remembers the feet that walked it faithfully.

People sometimes ask me what the secret is. They see the networks, the invitations, the travel, the speaking, the coaching, and they imagine there must be some hidden door through which I passed while others were looking elsewhere. There is no mystery grander than persistence. We started together, many of us. Some grew tired. Some abandoned the thing too early. I remained with it. I kept faith with the work. At a point when many of my peers chose the safer road, I turned toward the road that matched the size of the dream I carried. It was not the easier road. It was simply mine.

So yes, I left that encounter grateful, and more than grateful, strengthened. I believe something meaningful may yet come from that connection, particularly for the young people of Africa, for whom I carry a very serious burden. But even if nothing else had come of it, the lesson itself would have been enough.

For the world has a curious habit. It often appears not to notice. It keeps a straight face while you labour. It gives little sign while you pour yourself out. Then one day, without warning, it turns, calls you by name, and places a card in your hand.

So I say this again, and I say it as one who has seen a little of life. Keep going. Stay with the work. Remain faithful to your assignment. The door you are too shy to knock on may one day open from the inside.

©️ Kelvin Nyamache

I recall that Saturday morning two years ago when my phone rang at 5:00 a.m. On the other end was the Cabinet Secretary for Education, Julius Ogamba. He had just read an article I had written that was making rounds online, and he told me he had been following my work for some time. I was deeply humbled. Such moments do not come every day, and that call has stayed with me ever since.

What struck me first was his simplicity. Here was a man serving in one of the highest offices in the land, yet he spoke with warmth, grace, and a sincerity that immediately put me at ease. There was gentleness in his tone, clarity in his thinking, and a quiet strength in the way he carried himself.

Over time, what began as a conversation grew into a genuine friendship. Today, I can say without hesitation that we are great friends, and I continue learning from him. Every encounter with him leaves me with something to reflect on. He is thoughtful, measured, disciplined, and deeply committed to the future of this country. His love for education is easy to see, and his conduct reveals a man who values people, substance, and long-term impact.

That experience often reminds me of The Compound Effect by Darren Hardy, a book that teaches a truth many people ignore. Small, faithful actions done consistently over time produce remarkable results. Life rarely changes in one dramatic moment. More often, it changes quietly, through discipline, repetition, and the courage to keep going when nobody seems to notice. That early morning call reminded me that consistency has a voice. It may speak softly, but one day the world hears it.

There is a Latin word I often think about when I reflect on that lesson, perseverantia. It speaks to steadfastness, endurance, and the grace to remain on course. It is the quiet refusal to give up. It is the strength to keep building, keep writing, keep serving, and keep believing, even when the harvest still seems far away. That word captures so much of what I have learned both from that moment and from my continued friendship with him.

Julius Ogamba, to my mind, is a fine example of humility in leadership, dignity in conduct, and steadiness in service. He is the kind of man who reminds you that public office can still be carried with honour, and that true influence is built through character. Our friendship has been a gift to me, and the lessons I continue to draw from him have only deepened my respect. That one phone call taught me something I will never forget. Keep doing the work. Keep showing up. Keep walking in perseverantia. One day, the fruit will speak for itself.

©️ Kelvin Nyamache

Throwback to a beautiful day at Kisii University SDA Church, where I had the honour of sharing God’s word with such a wonderful congregation.

Looking back, I can only say Ebenezers thus far the Lord has brought me. May the seeds planted that day continue to bear fruit in the lives of many.

I had the pleasure of serving as Master of Ceremony at an event held at Salama Hotel in Kigali, Rwanda, a continuation of the ICCB conference that had earlier taken place at Sainte Famille Hotel and attracted delegates from across the world.