Bigger belly, suv equals poor health

BY NICHOLAS OKUMU

In many Kenyan communities, size is often equated with health and success.

A man with a large belly is “well-fed” and doing well in life, while a fuller-figured woman is seen as being “well taken care of.”

But beneath the comfort of these cultural beliefs lies an uncomfortable truth—this misconception that size reflects health and success could have serious consequences for our well-being.

In Kenya, wealth isn’t just measured by what you have; it’s measured by how little you move.

Let’s be honest, if you can walk to work, are you really successful?

A person of status is expected to have a big car, or better yet, several big cars.

You drive everywhere—even to the corner shop that’s 100 metres away.

Walking is for those who “haven’t made it” yet.

And if you’re really important, you add a driver and throw in a convoy for good measure.

But here’s the kicker: this lifestyle comes at a cost.

According to the World Health Organisation (WHO), 27 per cent of adults in Kenya are insufficiently active, putting them at higher risk for noncommunicable diseases (NCDs) like heart disease, diabetes and hypertension.

NCDs now account for 50 per cent of hospital admissions and over 40 per cent of deaths in Kenya. 

It’s a paradox—we prize the symbols of success, but those same symbols might be costing us our health.

I was in Boston recently and things are different there.

I spent five days walking almost everywhere, including a 55-minute walk to Harvard Medical School.

No one found it odd—doctors, nurses and professionals all walked alongside me like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Public transport was cheap and convenient.

I racked up more steps than I’d ever managed back home, and all without anyone questioning my success or social standing.

Now, contrast this with Nairobi.

Here, walking is seen as downright offensive for someone of my standing. People would talk.

It’s not just inconvenient— it’s a cultural taboo.

If I tried to walk to work, someone would probably pull over and offer me a ride out of pity.

Driving a big, gas-guzzling SUV is a statement—proof that you’ve arrived.

And let’s not forget, the bigger your car, the smaller your steps. 

Ironically, those who walk the most in Nairobi are often from lower-income groups.

For many, walking long distances is a necessity, not a choice.

But studies show that walking just 30 minutes a day can reduce the risk of heart disease by up to 19 per cent.

So, while we look down from our SUVs, those who walk to work are reaping the benefits of a habit that could save their lives.

Even our leaders can’t escape the contradictions.

Recently, our president was seen walking from his hotel to one of the UNGA conference venues in New York, flanked by lean security guards and healthier looking ministers.

You’d think, “Wow, what a healthy bunch!”

But let’s be real—back home in Nairobi, it’s a different story. ¨

The same folks who walked briskly in New York will happily sit through Nairobi traffic in a convoy of gas guzzlers.

Walk? In Nairobi? Never! ¨ that’s what the security detail is for—clearing the way, not setting a fitness example.

So, what do we do?

First, we need to redefine success. It’s not about how big your belly or car is—it’s about how well you take care of your health.

Walking, cycling and using public transport should not be seen as a sign of poverty, but as part of a healthier, more balanced life.

In cities like Boston, London, and Vienna, walking to work isn’t about status—it’s about practicality, health and sustainability.

We need to follow suit.

Urban planning could play a huge role in making this shift possible.

Imagine  Nairobi where safe pedestrian lanes encourage walking, where cycling infrastructure is prioritised, and where public transport is reliable and affordable.

Public health campaigns should emphasise the importance of physical activity, not just as an afterthought, but as a core part of daily life. 

If we want to reverse the rising tide of lifestyle-related diseases, this cultural shift is not just ideal—it’s necessary.

The benefits of regular movement are undeniable, and it’s time for us to make physical activity a part of our definition of success.

True prosperity is about living a balanced, healthy life, not just acquiring symbols of wealth.

So next time you see me walking, don’t offer me a ride—just know I’m getting my steps in, and maybe, setting an example for a healthier Kenya