The other day, I attended the memorial service of a dear friend, a soul loved by many. The crowd said it all, every corner of the room was filled with people whose lives he had touched. And as his friends stood to speak, one eulogy in particular stood out. They spoke of the lengths they had gone to in order to support him during his most demanding times. These were friends who showed up for him in ways that were far from ordinary. They’d hop on virtual calls under pseudonyms, sitting through his presentations and trainings, even when the screen was filled with jargon they didn’t fully understand. They supported him through every painstaking detail, even sending him texts just to offer encouragement and let him know they were there.

I know, I know, at face value, it sounds questionable, even unethical. But hearing the story, you can’t help but admire those friends for the depth of their loyalty. They understood how heavy the preparation was, and instead of stepping back, they stepped forward in the most unexpected ways, offering support, care, and above all, presence. And as the stories continued, I left that day reflecting on the profound attention and care they had shown: unwavering, constant, and true (May he rest in Peace).

As I made my way home, something unexpected happened. A mkokoteni man, his cart piled high with sacks of potatoes, struggled to maneuver through the uneven road. Then bam! His wheel hit a deep pothole and the cart tipped over.  Potatoes spilled everywhere, bouncing off the pavement, some rolling into the dirty gutters, splashing into deep puddles. It had just rained, so the mess was even worse. Some landed in the mud, instantly coated in filth. Others disappeared under the feet of distracted pedestrians and passing cars, crushed before the man could even react. Traffic came to a grinding halt. The light turned green, but no cars moved. Drivers leaned out of their windows, necks craned, eyes narrowed with irritation. Horns pierced the air: sharp, impatient. Some motorists shook their heads, others muttered under their breath, unable to understand the hold-up. A few cars managed to weave through the mess, tires narrowly missing scattered potatoes.

A traffic officer stepped forward. With a single raised hand, he halted the restless tide of vehicles. Without being asked, strangers leaned down. They picked up potatoes, steadied the cart, and lifted the fallen weight.  Help, in its purest form: instinctive, silent, kind. Within moments, the mess was cleared. The mkokoteni man, probably still shaken from the loss of some of his goods, managed a smile. And just like that, normalcy resumed. 

Both of these instances tell the same story: seen, heard, and valued, no matter the circumstances. To me, that is personalized attention.

Little things

You see, it’s in those moments, when you give yourself to others, that the true impact of personalised attention shines. Take the story of the departed young man and his close friends, what incredible friends they were to have been there for him. It was not about grand gestures but about presence. The simple act of showing up becomes a lifeline, a reminder that they are not alone in their pain.

Or consider the mkokoteni man, for instance. As he stood there, probably reflecting on his losses, it wasn’t just the potatoes he had lost, it was the moment that could have felt utterly hopeless. Yet, in the midst of that chaos, strangers stepped forward without a second thought, offering their hands, lifting his cart, and showing him that even in his lowest moment, he wasn’t alone. That, to me, is the beauty of serving others.

And the outcome? It’s acknowledged in the most profound way: through the simple, but powerful gesture of showing up. Serving society doesn’t always require grand acts; often, it’s found in those quiet, intentional moments. It’s about showing up not because you have to, but because you truly care. It’s the act of cheering someone on from the sidelines, sitting in the crowd during their presentation, or sending a message to wish them luck, opening the door for someone, asking them how their day is going, offering a kind word when they need it most. It’s those moments when you give your full attention, when you show someone that they are seen and heard. These moments may seem small in the grand scheme of things, but to the person on the receiving end, they speak volumes. Because when you show up with intention and care, you remind people of their worth and their value. And sometimes, that’s all it takes to change someone’s day, or even their life.

The flip side

I recently had the chance to listen to Dr. Ogutu, our Vice Chancellor at Strathmore University, as he unpacked the concept of personalized attention, the theme for the university in 2025. His perspective on it was truly eye-opening, offering a flip side that added a whole new layer to the idea.

While we’re called to give of ourselves, we must also learn to receive. True connection is a two-way street. Often, we’re quick to serve, but slow to accept help. “It’s okay, I got it!” “I can do it, no worries,” we say, when people offer their support. We dismiss kindness, downplay compliments, or shy away from vulnerability. But when someone offers you their time, their effort, their care, that’s a gift. And to receive it with grace is to honour the giver. Accepting help, allowing others to show up for you, is just as important as showing up for them. It’s through that exchange that true connection is formed. 

So, what does personalized attention mean to you? How can you embody this in your own life? How will you show up for others, and how will you let them show up for you? It’s a clarion call, one that pushes us to rethink how we interact with the world around us.

Article written by: Jemmy M. Kamau