In life, Rosemary Chemutai Kimwatu—affectionately known as "Chemu"—flashed full-moon smiles that could light up the entire Nairobi skyline.
She was the quintessential overachiever, a bubbly spirit who seemingly had the perfect, modern Kenyan life unlocked.
She had everything in her: good brains, loving and protective family, a high-flying career, a supportive community and a deeply nourishing church life.
When she spoke, she radiated the sharp, unmistakable confidence of a corporate powerhouse. Her eyes sparkled with a subterranean light, her chubby cheeks betraying the innocence of her seemingly contented spirit.
As a daughter, sister, wife, advocate of the High Court of Kenya and cherished colleague to many, Chemu didn’t just fill her roles; she mastered them with unmistakable zeal.
Her relentless pursuit of excellence began early. At the prestigious Alliance Girls High School, she scored an impressive B+.
Most people would throw a party for a B+, but Chemu was not "most people".
Utterly dissatisfied with anything less than perfection, she made the wildly bold—and frankly, slightly stubborn—decision to repeat her final exams at a less prominent school just to secure a straight A.
She didn't just pass; she conquered the exams in style, earning her admission to the University of Nairobi for a Bachelor of Laws degree.
Life, however, threw an unexpected curveball when she became a mother during her first year of university. While society often writes off young mothers, Chemu treated the challenge like a minor speed bump.
She balanced late-night feedings with gruelling legal case studies, doggedly earning her LLB and a post-graduate diploma from the Kenya School of Law.
She did not rest on her laurels. She went on to acquire certifications in IT and an Advanced Diploma in Public Relations, all while raising three more children.
With a resume that glittering, corporate Kenya came calling, and rewarding. Chemu built an enviable career with prominent stints at Caritas, WayaWaya, MODE, Safaricom, Oxygene and KCB, alongside several board roles.
In professional circles, she was widely tipped to become Kenya's second Data Commissioner, after Immaculate Kassait.
At church, Chemu was equally a superstar. She espoused the ideals of a devout Catholic woman, solemnising her early marriage at the altar and serving actively in the Catholic Women Association.
Together with her husband, she headlined Couples for Christ, inspiring other young couples with her own journey.
She loved music, dancing, long road trips, deep conversations and capturing sunrises. As her family beautifully mourned her:
“Forty years were far too few. But those forty years mattered. Chemu learnt, loved, achieved, built a family, built a remarkable career, laughed, danced, prayed and dreamt boldly.”
Yet, behind this decorated tapestry of honour and service, Chemu was fighting a silent, agonising battle. Unbeknownst to the world, she was carrying a heavy millstone around her neck.
Because she always looked put together, few noticed the cracks. In Kenya, as long as you are smiling and productive, society assumes you are flourishing.
Chemu was likely met with a barrage of hollow platitudes and toxic positivity.
Well-meaning church members probably told her to "pray it away", while family members may have encouraged her to "hang in there" and wait for brighter days.
Friends, consumed by their own modern-day hustles, may have failed to see she was standing on the precipice. Others simply could not reconcile her internal torment with her seemingly perfect external life.
For a state whose body structure is advertently designed to bleed subjects rather than grow them, it is inconceivable to expect Chemu’s mental health to have mattered.
Like millions of others in the country, Chemu stood zero chance of surviving against this system which teaches to simply live and die.
Yet the country is all the loser for Chemu never lived in vain. She was deeply invested in and she impacted life a lot more.
As we mark World Suicide Prevention Day, let us look beyond the "full moon smiles" of those around us, and of ourselves.
Let us atone for Chemu’s tragic departure by vowing to dismantle the culture of silence, trading empty platitudes for real support, and actively choosing life over death.
Advocate of the High Court and a Senior Project Manager with the Friedrich Naumann Foundation. The views expressed here are the writer's own
