By Day a Guard, By Night a Student: The Unyielding Dream of Collins Otieno

By Isaac Mutavuta Ogangi 

At 4:30 a.m., when much of Nairobi is still cloaked in darkness, Collins Otieno is already awake.

For him, every minute counts. A slight delay means paying Sh70 for a matatu ride to town instead of Sh30 — a difference that bites deeply into his modest salary. By 5:30 a.m., he stands at the college gate where he works as a security guard, neatly dressed in a navy-blue uniform, greeting students with a polite nod and a warm smile.

Few who pass him each morning know that behind his calm and watchful presence is a story of quiet resilience — a man guarding not only an institution but also a fragile, persistent dream.

At 32, Collins works 12-hour shifts, sometimes longer. He spends his days on his feet, ensuring students and staff enter and leave safely. Yet when his shift ends, his day is far from over. Instead of heading home to rest, he heads to class.

Born and raised in a rural village in Siaya County, Collins once shared the same academic ambitions as his classmates. But life had other plans. His parents could not afford school fees, and as the eldest child, he left school early to support his younger siblings.

While his peers completed their education, Collins took on casual jobs in construction sites and farms. Eventually, like many young men seeking opportunity, he migrated to Nairobi. The city offered him employment as a security guard — steady but modest work that demanded long hours for little pay.

Life in Nairobi’s low-lying informal settlements has never been easy. Survival often takes precedence over aspiration. But two years ago, something shifted.

“I guard students every day. I see them going to class, and I tell myself — why not me?” Collins says with a quiet laugh.

Determined to rewrite his story, Collins enrolled in evening adult education classes at St. Peter’s Township School in Nairobi, which offers secondary education programs.

Three evenings a week, after completing his demanding shifts, he trades his security uniform for exercise books and pens. His week now oscillates between standing guard over college students and sitting in a classroom himself — a student once again, though at a different academic level.

His goal is clear: complete his secondary education and eventually pursue a course in Information Technology.

The transformation has not been easy. Fatigue often lingers, and financial pressures remain constant. His salary not only supports his wife and young daughter but also helps his parents back home. Still, he refuses to give up.

Colleagues describe him as humble and hardworking. Students who hurry past him at the gate rarely realize that the man urging them not to be late for class is fighting his own academic battles after sunset.

For Collins, education is more than a certificate. It is a symbol of dignity, possibility, and breaking generational cycles.

“I want my child to see that education is important,” he says. “You should never stop trying. Better late than never.”

His words carry the weight of lived experience — years of sacrifice, early mornings, long shifts, and late-night study sessions.

In a city where dreams are often overshadowed by daily survival, Collins Otieno stands as a quiet reminder that ambition does not expire with age, and circumstances do not have to dictate destiny.

By day, he guards the gates of opportunity for others. By night, he walks steadily toward his own.