I sat down in Nairobi, spent an entire weekend alone with no plans and visitors, and found out that deliberate isolation is not loneliness. Instead, it is grounding, restorative, and necessary for staying mentally clear.

Why I Chose to Be Alone

In most Kenyan cities, being alone is rare. Silence usually happens by accident, especially if you are not working in person. If you are not visiting anyone, someone will check on you. Even if you live alone, messages from WhatsApp groups, family, and friends keep you company on your phone.

The concept of a weekend on its own was weird, almost garish. It was not about sadness; instead, it was about exhaustion from constant contact and demands. It took me a week of traffic and commitments before, on a Friday evening, I realized that I had not really been with myself in a long time.

So I swept out my weekend—no church-going, no errands, no dropping in. I explained to my people that I was going offline, had stocked up, and would remain offline from Friday evening to Sunday evening.

The First Quiet Hours

The early days were the most difficult. Nairobi—the busy capital of Kenya, never actually quiets down, but my house did. No radio in the background. No TV murmuring. Clear only low moaning of the city beyond and a few rattles every now and then of a boda (motorcycle taxi) passing by.

I picked up my phone automatically. That reflex was strong. This craving is frequently confused with the desire to feel lonely; however, it is not the same. In most cases, it is irritation from inactivity. I dropped the phone and allowed the time to be there. The odour of the food I had prepared the previous day filled the air, comforting and comforting. This was the first time in a long time that there was no hurry to answer anyone.

This was a Saturday morning coming softly. No alarm. Only daylight exposing itself in and the faraway sound of neighbours getting their day on. I tried to make tea gradually, as one does when there is no place to go. I heard the escaping steam, the dumb clatter of the cup on the table. The same had a near-nostalgic quality, as childhood mornings before responsibilities started to form teeth.

When Loneliness Had Not Paid the Mortgage.

I had anticipated loneliness to come in a big way. A heaviness. A sense of missing out. Rather, restlessness appeared in the first place. I walked around the house. Straightened things were even straighter. Sat down, stood up again. Without unending stimulation, my mind was perplexed as to what to do. Then, step by step, that restlessness was soothed.

I was seated by the window, and I could observe the city pass—matatus, passersby, life passing without me. I was not upset but happy to have been denied. The American Psychological Association claims that purposeful solitude facilitates emotion management. I was not alone because I had no company.

Dining Alone Without the Melancholy.

Eating alone may be unseemly in most Kenyan families. Dining out is social, and food is not eaten alone.

But on this particular Saturday afternoon, I had a different experience of having lunch alone. I was a gradual cook, allowing the onions to brown and the stew to simmer. The scent of the place spread all over the house. I put my food on the plate, found a spot, and sat down with no distractions. No scrolling. No background noise. Just me and the meal.

I tasted my food more. I paused between bites. I understood how easy it is to be distracted by eating to the point of being distracted by talking or the screen. This felt intentional. Respectful, even.

The Urge to Reach Out

There were times when I felt like texting someone. Not that I felt lonely, but that I thought something interesting, and, intuitively, I felt like sharing it. That urge surprised me. It taught me to understand how loneliness can often be confused with a tendency toward external validation.

Anonymity did not address my desire to be connected. It clarified it. I grabbed a notebook I hadn’t felt in ages, rather than calling on him. Initially, writing was clumsy. Then it loosened. Surprising thoughts I had been carrying came to the fore. Concerns that were large in discussion were dwarfed in print. University of Rochester research indicates that balanced autonomy and emotional clarity are strengthened in healthy solitude, rather than in the absence of social connection. I wrote that balance was not a theory but relatively real.

Sunday Felt Easier

My body had acclimated itself by Sunday. I got up refreshed, read, not in a hurry, and walked slowly, noticing the rhythms of the city at a distance. It was less overwhelming since I was not always involved in Nairobi.

It was not in any dramatic revelation. No sudden life clarity. Just steadiness.

I live in a culture that places great importance on staying with others, and any solitude would be considered almost insulting. But our culture, too, cherishes retrospection. Quiet mornings. Moments of prayer. Time set aside for stillness. Aloneness has always been side by side with community. We are now less used to calling it by name.

Weekends do not work for everyone, and they are not a replacement for relationships. Yet it can help you check up again and remind you that there is something to enjoy, not just to survive in, within your own firm.

To Kenyan urban residents and other individuals in the diaspora, who must always balance requirements in many worlds at once, intentional solitude is not an option. It may be a strong sense of self-respect and self-understanding.

In the event, though, that you have been socially and emotionally jaded, make yourself grant yourself a little space of conscious solitude. Start with a morning. Or an afternoon. Allow a space of silence to lengthen. You may not be lonely at all. At last, you may say you feel grounded.