In a busy Nairobi neighborhood where traffic noise blended with distant street vendors, I expected college housing to mean living with people my own age — loud nights, shared stress, and the kind of chaos that comes from everyone trying to figure life out at the same time. Instead, at 23, I found myself sharing an apartment with two roommates aged 32 and 36. At first, the age gap felt uncomfortable, even intimidating. I worried about fitting in, being misunderstood, or constantly feeling out of place. But over three years of living together, that intergenerational arrangement quietly reshaped how I understood adulthood, independence, and what it really means to live with others.

When I first moved in, the differences were immediately obvious. My life revolved around lectures, deadlines, and balancing school with part-time work. My roommates had full-time jobs, established routines, and conversations that revolved around long-term plans. They talked about career growth, financial security, and personal values in ways that felt far removed from my world of assignments and short-term goals. I felt like I was living between two timelines — one just beginning, the other already unfolding.

At first, I was hyper-aware of myself. I worried about being too loud, too messy, or too unserious. I was used to living with students where everyone had similar habits and similar levels of disorganization. Living with older roommates made me more conscious of how I showed up in shared spaces — how I communicated, how I handled responsibilities, and how I contributed to the household.

But slowly, something shifted. Shared routines began to create unexpected connection. We cooked together, discussed bills openly, and learned how to negotiate space without constant tension. What I thought would feel restrictive ended up giving me a sense of structure I didn’t know I needed.

One night stands out clearly in my memory. We were sitting in the living room after dinner, and the conversation shifted to money. While I was used to seeing money as something stressful or distant, my roommates began talking casually about investments and stocks. They explained how they started small, how they researched companies, and how they thought about long-term financial growth. It wasn’t a lecture — it felt more like mentorship.

I remember asking simple questions, almost embarrassed by how little I knew. But instead of being dismissed, I was included. They broke things down for me, explained risks, and encouraged me to think beyond just surviving month to month. That conversation changed the way I thought about money — not as something to fear, but as something I could learn to manage intentionally. I stopped seeing financial planning as something “for the future” and started seeing it as a form of self-respect in the present.

That moment was one of many where I realized how much I was learning just by being in the room.

Living with people from different generations exposed me to perspectives I wouldn’t normally encounter among my peers. While my friends worried about exams and social plans, my roommates talked about mental health at work, setting boundaries in relationships, and choosing stability over constant pressure. Their conversations weren’t dramatic, but they were grounded. They made adulthood feel less like a performance and more like a process.

“Intergenerational living taught me that independence doesn’t mean isolation.”

Not every moment was smooth. One of the most difficult experiences we faced was a serious conflict between my two roommates rooted in cultural and religious differences. What began as a small misunderstanding escalated into feelings of betrayal. The tension in the apartment was impossible to ignore. For days, shared spaces felt heavy, and communication became strained.

As the youngest, I felt caught in the middle, unsure of how to react or help. But what stayed with me was how they eventually handled it. Instead of avoiding each other, they chose to talk — openly, honestly, and uncomfortably. They discussed how their beliefs shaped their expectations, where they felt hurt, and what respect meant to each of them.

Watching that unfold taught me more about conflict than any friendship drama I’d experienced before. It showed me that real disagreement doesn’t have to destroy connection. It can deepen it, if people are willing to listen rather than defend. That moment reshaped how I handle tension in my own relationships. I became less afraid of difficult conversations and more open to understanding perspectives different from mine.

Over time, the age gap stopped feeling like a barrier and started feeling like balance. My energy brought lightness into the space, while their stability brought calm. We supported each other in small, quiet ways — checking in after long workdays, sharing advice, respecting boundaries, and sometimes just coexisting peacefully in the same room.

I realized that intergenerational living challenged my idea of independence. Growing up, I thought independence meant doing everything alone, proving I didn’t need anyone. But living in a mixed-age apartment taught me that independence is actually about learning how to live with others — how to communicate honestly, take responsibility, and still maintain your sense of self.

There were moments of frustration. Different schedules caused misunderstandings. Different expectations required compromise. But those challenges felt educational rather than exhausting. Instead of avoiding conflict, we addressed it. Instead of pretending differences didn’t exist, we learned how to navigate them.

Living with older roommates helped me transition into adulthood more gently than I expected. It gave me access to real-world perspective without pressure, structure without control, and support without dependency. I matured not because I was forced to, but because the environment encouraged growth.

In a city like Nairobi, where housing is expensive and people often feel isolated despite living close together, intergenerational living felt surprisingly practical. It reduced costs, shared responsibilities, and created a sense of community that many people — young and old — are searching for.

Living in an intergenerational apartment didn’t just change how I approached shared space — it changed how I think about adulthood itself. I learned that maturity isn’t tied to age, and independence isn’t about doing everything alone. The support, perspective, and structure I gained from living with people in different life stages offered something college never promised but unexpectedly delivered.

Three years later, I realize I didn’t just gain roommates from different generations. I gained a new understanding of how we’re meant to live together — not separated by age, beliefs, or life stages, but connected through shared space, shared responsibility, and the willingness to learn from one another.