Joseph Murabula: The letter that changed my life and the fear that lingers

And now, 20 years later, Joseph sits at the head of the table at Kenya Climate Innovation Center (KCIC) as the Chief Executive. Before joining KCIC, he served as the CEO of the Kenya Innovative Finance Facility for Water (KIFFWA), an organisation that co-develops water initiatives to support the fight against climate change.

He holds a master’s degree in Finance and Financial Law from the University of London and is a Certified Expert in Climate and Renewable Energy Finance. He has worked in the banking sector and in the consulting division of Deloitte, where he began his professional journey—a journey that reminds us that sometimes, the most significant changes start with the smallest acts of faith.

He spoke to us via Zoom, from a location with a large window and a very grey June sky.

It’s great to start these conversations with what people remember about their childhood, the good and the not-so-good…

The not-so-good memory is that my mother passed away when I was two years old. Following her death, in the wisdom of the elders, our family was split.

My two sisters went to live with our maternal grandmother, while my brother and I were taken in by our paternal grandmother. But being raised by a grandmother has its unique blessings.

Despite the lack of resources—sometimes no food or basic needs—she made sure we were always well cared for. God gave her long life and a loving heart.

Where was your father during that time?

He worked in Thika and wasn’t around much. He retired in 1985, when I was in Class 5. Four years later, I left home for high school.

Like most children raised in the village, I only saw him maybe once a year—usually when he came home on leave, in August or December. Because I lived with my grandmother, I didn’t form a strong bond with him.

Has that influenced how you raise your children?

Not really. I have one boy and three girls. However, in our culture, you often become a parental figure to your nieces and nephews long before you have children of your own, so life and experience teach us valuable lessons.

Today, we have access to more information, therefore more aware about what is expected to bring up wholesome children. Essentially, event thought parenting doesn’t come with a manual, the environment we are raising our children is very different from the past. Therefore, my father's absence did not affect how I’ve raised my children.

What season of life are you in right now?

I’d say midlife. I just turned 50.

It’s a reflective time—you think about the past, but you also look ahead with more wisdom than in your youth. I’m looking at making an impact—supporting others to overcome challenges I’ve faced.

In rural areas, the problems stay the same: lack of school fees, poor healthcare, absent parents, and poor infrastructure. And it’s all rooted in poverty.

What got me out of poverty was education and that’s why I strongly support enterprise and education. I, for instance, chair my village school and work with KCIC to promote village entrepreneurship.

The goal is to give people both income and access to education—because that’s how you transform a society. I wouldn’t be speaking to you today if Dr Geoffrey Griffin hadn’t taken me out of the village and into school.

Do you remember what you wrote to Dr Griffin?

Yes. I was 13, in Class 8. I’d heard from our deputy headmaster about this school that supports bright children from poor backgrounds. We thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask for help.

I wrote a letter explaining that my family couldn’t afford my school fees and that I was bright pupil who wanted to continue my education. He wrote back. I couldn’t believe it. It was like winning a lottery.

What motivated you most as a boy growing up in Busia?

Getting out of the village. [Laughs]. We believed success lived in the big cities—Nairobi, and Mombasa. I hadn’t gone more than five kilometres from home, so I worked hard in school because I wanted to see the city lights.

Getting admitted to Starehe Boys' Centre was the happiest moment of my life. I can’t think of any other happier moment, because suddenly I had a shot at something bigger. And now, in this station in life, I’m keen on impact, on giving children in my village at least a basic education—say, up to Grade 4. As I mentioned, I believe education is the best way to break the poverty cycle.

You have a background in finance and law. Was that driven by passion or proficiency?

Passion. I started at Deloitte in the corporate recovery services division, where I dealt with struggling businesses. I saw firsthand how poor financial planning can collapse livelihoods. That experience inspired me to get the financing structure right from the beginning.

So I pursued project finance and later joined a development finance institution. I learned a few things about money during this time; that money is just an enabler. Without a dream, it’s meaningless. You should seek money to achieve a purpose, not for its own sake.

What’s something you started but haven’t finished?

My PhD. I started writing the concept and stopped on the second page. [Chuckle] It remains unfinished. Friends keep pushing me to get on with it and get it done. Why a PhD, you ask? Because we live in a knowledge economy.

A PhD helps you deepen your expertise and pass it on through teaching or mentorship. It positions you to contribute more meaningfully to society.

Outside work, how do you spend your time?

I read and watch sports—mainly Premier League, La Liga, athletics, and motorsport. I also spend time with friends and family. I love reading. I’m currently reading The Light We Carry by Michelle Obama.

What’s one book you’d carry into Noah’s Ark?

Definitely The 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene. It offers a realistic worldview and insights on navigating relationships. It has informed some of my leadership qualities, I guess. I’m consultative.

I believe decisions are implemented better with team buy-in. What I struggle with is managing people in a knowledge-heavy sector like climate entrepreneurship. People move on quickly, and continuity becomes a challenge.

Do you think about life after 60?

Absolutely. Time flies. Just the other day we were children kicking balls made from paper in Busia. Today I’m here, 50 years old, having an interview with Biko. [Chuckle] I hope to spend my retirement sharing knowledge—teaching, mentoring.

What makes you anxious about the future now?

[Pause] The state of society. Many young people have dreams but lack opportunities. There are countless youth who are giving up on hope.

The system does not provide the support they need, which is heartbreaking. Recent protests are a reflection of this frustration boiling over. It raises important questions about the future of our country.

What’s something you wish people asked you more?

[Pause] Well, I’ve not thought about that but I think it’s the question you asked me earlier about what I’d like to do after 60. It forces you to reflect and prepare for it more intentionally.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how satisfied are you with life?

[Pause] I’d say a six.

That’s average.

Yes, there are still dreams I have yet to fulfill, but I have also done meaningful work for society. I have a bucket list with several items still to check off.

For instance, I have yet to visit Asia, and China, in particular, is on my list. I also want to complete my PhD and expand support for small entrepreneurs; currently, we can only assist about 10 percent of the people who apply to KCIC.

As a 50-year-old man, I have my fears. I often wonder what the future holds for me and what I should be doing. I’ve tried to put structures in place to ensure my success, but I still worry about whether they will work out.

I’m concerned that something might happen that could take me and my family back to the life I had 30 years ago—a life of poverty. I can’t bear the thought of that.

Before we close, what’s the one thing your children complain most about you?

[Laughs] They say I don’t bring them enough gifts when I travel.

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