What Happens When Survival Becomes the Goal?....The Human Cost of Hospitality and Tourism

Are We Being Conditioned to Measure Success the Wrong Way?

We are always told to dream big.

Build a career. Travel the world. Start a business. Own a home. Experience life.

We grow up hearing that the possibilities are endless if we work hard enough.

But there is a question we do not ask often enough:

What happens when survival becomes the priority?

From parents who sacrificed everything so their children could have better lives to teachers telling us that education will open doors, many of us grow up believing that education is our way forward.

So you study.

You sit exams.

You compete with hundreds of thousands of other students for a limited number of opportunities.

You graduate.

Then reality arrives.

The degree that was supposed to open doors becomes another document attached to another application.

You send CV after CV.

You hear nothing.

You apply again.

Someone tells you that you need experience.

But how do you gain experience when many employers want someone who already has it?

You need a job to gain experience.

You need experience to get a job.

And somehow, you are expected to solve that contradiction on your own.

Then someone tells you:

“You need to network.”

Network with who?

This is where the conversation about success becomes complicated.

We are surrounded by motivational messages telling us that nothing is impossible. Social media shows us people building businesses, buying cars, travelling and reaching milestones before thirty.

There is nothing wrong with ambition.

But social media rarely shows the years of uncertainty behind those achievements. It rarely shows the people applying for jobs, sending emails that receive no response, postponing plans because money is tight, or starting again after something does not work.

We are encouraged to dream.

But we are not always taught how to navigate a world where opportunities are not distributed equally.

And when things do not work out, the responsibility is often placed entirely on the individual.

If you do not have a job, perhaps you did not work hard enough.

If your business struggles, perhaps you were not determined enough.

If you cannot afford to travel, perhaps you simply need to manage your money better.

But life is more complicated than that.

People do not begin from the same starting line.

One person may grow up with parents who can pay for good schools, university, transport, professional networks and even provide capital to start a business.

Another may grow up in a household where paying school fees is already a struggle.

Both are told:

“You have the same 24 hours.”

Technically, they do.

But they do not have the same resources.

They do not have the same connections.

They do not have the same safety nets.

They do not have the same access to opportunity.

That does not mean hard work is meaningless.

It means we should be more honest about what hard work can and cannot accomplish on its own.

For many people, life is not always about chasing extraordinary dreams.

Sometimes it is about making sure there is something on the table at the end of the month.

There is a difference between wanting to succeed and simply wanting to make it through the month.

You wake up early.

You squeeze into a matatu.

You go to work.

You deal with an unreasonable customer, a difficult manager or a salary that barely stretches far enough.

Then you do it all again the next morning.

Not necessarily because you love the life you are living.

Sometimes, you simply need the income.

And perhaps nowhere is this contradiction more visible than in hospitality and tourism.

We work in industries built around helping other people escape their everyday lives.

Hotels promise relaxation.

Restaurants create experiences.

Tour operators sell adventure.

Safari lodges sell tranquillity.

We tell visitors to slow down, enjoy the sunset, taste the food, take photographs and make memories.

But behind those experiences are ordinary people working long hours to make them possible.

The waiter serving dinner may also be thinking about rent.

The chef preparing an expensive meal may be wondering how they will get home after their shift.

The receptionist welcoming a guest may have spent the morning calculating whether their salary will last until payday.

The tour guide explaining the beauty of the Maasai Mara may spend most of their working life showing visitors a version of Kenya that they rarely have the opportunity to experience themselves.

And there is something worth thinking about in that contradiction.

We make a living helping other people enjoy life while sometimes struggling to enjoy our own.

This is not an attack on hospitality or tourism.

These industries provide employment, support businesses, create opportunities and contribute significantly to Kenya's economy.

But when we talk about tourism, we often focus on foreign exchange, hotel occupancy, visitor numbers, conservation and economic growth.

All of those things matter.

But what about the person behind the uniform?

What does tourism mean to the Kenyan who works at a hotel but cannot afford to spend a weekend there?

What does travel mean to someone whose salary is largely consumed by rent, food and transport?

What does a holiday mean to someone whose idea of a break is simply sleeping for a few extra hours on Sunday?

These questions do not diminish the value of tourism.

They make us ask what sustainable growth should actually look like.

A successful tourism industry should not only be measured by the number of visitors who arrive.

It should also be measured by the opportunities created for the people who live and work in the destinations being visited.

Because there is nothing wrong with wanting more.

But circumstances can sometimes teach people to postpone their ambitions.

You take whatever job is available.

You accept the salary because something is better than nothing.

You work overtime because the bills still have to be paid.

You postpone travelling.

You postpone starting the business.

You postpone learning something new.

You postpone rest.

You postpone life.

“Later” can become one of the most dangerous words in our vocabulary.

I'll travel later.

I'll start the business later.

I'll take care of myself later.

I'll enjoy myself when I have enough money.

But what if later keeps moving further away?

Perhaps this is one of the uncomfortable conversations we need to have about work, opportunity and the industries that keep our economy moving.

Tourism should not only be about creating beautiful experiences for visitors.

It should also contribute to creating sustainable livelihoods for the people who make those experiences possible.

A thriving tourism industry should mean more than busy hotels and full safari vehicles.

It should mean meaningful employment.

It should mean opportunities for people from different backgrounds.

It should mean communities benefiting from the destinations tourists come to see.

And, most importantly, it should remind us that people are not merely labour behind an experience.

They have dreams too.

We do not necessarily need luxurious lives.

Sometimes the dream is surprisingly simple:

A stable income.

A little time to breathe.

A safe home.

A chance to travel somewhere simply because we want to.

A job that does not consume our entire existence.

And enough money left at the end of the month to feel that our work has given us something more than exhaustion.

Survival is sometimes necessary.

But it should not become the definition of a life.

There is a difference between working to live and living only to work.

And perhaps the question is not simply:

“How much can we grow the tourism industry?”

Perhaps we should also ask:

“What kind of life are we creating for the people who keep it alive?”

The same question applies beyond tourism.

What kind of society are we creating when education is presented as the guaranteed path to opportunity, but graduates struggle to find their first chance?

What kind of economy are we creating when people are encouraged to become entrepreneurs without access to capital, networks or affordable resources?

What kind of definition of success are we passing on to young people when their worth becomes attached to their salary, job title, possessions or age?

Maybe we are not necessarily conditioned for failure.

Maybe we are conditioned to believe that success has only one appearance.

A good job.

A house.

A car.

A business.

Travel.

Financial independence.

And when our lives do not follow that sequence, we begin to think we have failed.

But perhaps success needs a broader definition.

For one person, success may mean building a company.

For another, it may mean finding stable employment.

For someone else, it may mean supporting their family, having enough time for themselves, or finally being able to take a holiday without worrying about the next month's expenses.

There is no single timeline for a meaningful life.

Hard work matters.

Education matters.

Ambition matters.

But so do opportunity, access, circumstances and the systems around us.

Maybe the conversation should therefore move beyond telling people to simply “dream bigger.”

Sometimes people do not need another motivational speech.

They need an opportunity.

They need someone willing to give them their first chance.

They need fair wages.

They need access to information and networks that others take for granted.

They need an economy where working hard can actually create room to live, not simply enough money to survive.

Dreaming is important.

But so is building a society where those dreams have somewhere to go.

Because people should not have to spend their entire lives choosing between surviving today and living tomorrow.