KENYA: The Day I Chose My Dream

Mercy almost gave up her dream when her parents dismissed her passion for food science as “not a good course.” But three years later, she walked away with her diploma and a deeper belief in the power of choosing yourself.

"This was my life, my choice. Walking into my first class felt like home. I remember thinking, 'This is it. This is where I belong.'"

For as long as I can remember, I have been curious about how things work. As a little girl, I would ask endless questions that often made my teachers sigh or smile in amusement.

“Why does bread rise? “

“How does milk turn into yogurt? “

“Why does chocolate melt in my hands but stay solid on the shelf?”

To me, science was magic! You could learn how to do it yourself. I loved discovering something new, looking closer at the everyday things people took for granted, and realizing there was a whole world of wonder behind them.

By the time I finished high school, I knew I wanted a career in food science. It felt like the perfect blend of my passions: science, discovery, and creation. I could imagine myself working in a lab, developing new products, finding healthier solutions, and making something people could hold, taste, and enjoy.

But the day I told my parents my decision, the excitement I felt met a wall I did not expect.

My father said it wasn't worth it, my mother started to doubt, and I joined college months late. I almost gave up my dream before it even began.

He looked at me and said, "That's not a good course." His words hit me like cold water.

My father, who had always been firm but fair, had dismissed my dream in one sentence. He said I should choose something more "practical," something that guaranteed a well-paying job and respect in society.

At first, I thought my mother would come to my defense. She had always encouraged my curiosity, letting me spend hours in the kitchen experimenting, even when it meant extra mess. But this time, she didn't smile. She told me she wasn't sure food science was the right choice either.

It was like watching my two pillars of support crumble. And for a while, I felt myself crumble with them.

Their doubts became my doubts. Maybe I was being naïve. Maybe I should pick something safer, something they approved.

I hesitated.

I delayed joining college, telling myself I was just "thinking it over," but deep down, I knew I was afraid—afraid of going against their wishes, afraid of failing and proving them right.

Months passed, and I watched friends move on with their studies while I stayed stuck in the same place. I smiled and said I was fine, but inside, I felt restless. My dream hadn't died. It was just waiting for me to be brave enough to choose it.

In September 2022, I finally took that step. I applied for a diploma in Food Science and Processing Technology. When my acceptance came, I felt a mix of joy and anxiety. I knew my parents weren't entirely convinced, but for the first time, I decided their approval wouldn't be the deciding factor. This was my life, my choice.

Walking into my first class was a moment I will never forget. The smell of the lab, the gleam of the stainless steel equipment, the notebooks filled with formulas—it felt like home. I remember holding my pen and thinking, This is it. I'm where I belong.

But the journey wasn't easy. There were days when the workload felt overwhelming, moments when the technical content seemed too much to handle. On some evenings, I would sit with my books open, the voices of my parents echoing in my head: "It's not a good course."

What kept me going was the same thing that started this journey—my passion. Every time I learned something new, every time I solved a problem in the lab, every time I understood a process that had once been a mystery to me, I felt a spark of joy. I started working on projects that pushed me beyond my comfort zone, including developing almond milk-flavored yogurt for my final year project.

Slowly, my confidence grew. I began to see my choice not as a risk, but as an investment in myself. My classmates became friends, my lecturers became mentors, and I started to envision my future not in the abstract, but in vivid detail.

And then, in July 2025, the moment I had been working toward arrived.

Standing there with my diploma in my hands, I felt a wave of emotions—relief, pride, and quiet triumph. I thought about the young woman in 2022 who almost gave up her dream because the people she loved most didn't believe in it. I wanted to tell her,

“You did it. You proved to yourself that your dreams are worth the fight.”

Choosing food science wasn't just about choosing a career. It was also about choosing myself.

It was about learning that my dreams don't need anyone's approval to be valid.

It was about standing firm in my passion, even when the people I wanted to please didn't understand it.

Today, I'm not just a Food Science degree holder. I'm a woman who knows the power of listening to her own voice.

I know now that passion is worth more than fear, and that doubt—whether from others or myself—can be overcome with persistence.

To every woman reading this, I want to say: your dreams are worth protecting.

Even when they seem too small or too unusual to others, they matter because they matter to you. There will be voices that try to talk you out of them. Some will come from strangers. Some will come from the people you love most. But at the end of the day, you are the one who has to live with your choices.

Don't let fear, doubt, or disapproval take away the life you were meant to live.

Step into it. Own it.

And when you finally cross that finish line, the victory will be yours—completely yours.

Because the day you choose your dream is the day you begin becoming yourself.

I call on communities, families, and institutions to believe in and support young people’s dreams, especially women in science, because their courage today shapes the solutions of tomorrow.

STORY AWARDS

This story was published as part of World Pulse's Story Awards program. We believe every woman has a story to share, and that the world will be a better place when women are heard.