Martin Muli

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Martin Muli

Martin Muli

@martinmuli

Nairobi, Kenya Katılım Nisan 2009
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Martin Muli retweetledi
꧁✿Nessa✿꧂
꧁✿Nessa✿꧂@Softnessa_·
We had an intern who was set to graduate with an accounting degree in May, quit after 3 days and when they called him to see if he was still coming in the 4th day he said no bc he had an existential type crisis about sitting in an office, at a desk, everyday and said he had already changed his major to “natural resource and forestry for becoming a park ranger” lmao I am happy for him
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Matthias Schmidt
Matthias Schmidt@eurofounder·
Things I'm not allowed to do in my rented apartment in Germany: 1. No drilling after 3:30pm. People need rest 2. No AC (kills climate) 3. No cooking fish after 8pm 4. No guests staying more than 2 consecutive nights without registering with the city (tourist tax) 5. No candles (fire risk) 6. No pets 7. No washing machine use on Sundays 8. No showering longer than 10 minutes (saving water) Of course Americans will read this and scream "freedom." But it is safe, regulated, and predictable And I only pay €1,850 for my spacious 29sqm studio, a steal
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staxxx🦅
staxxx🦅@papiwontmiss·
Not my dad saying “let me go buy bread” and the whole family getting in the car😭 he thinks we forgot what he did in 2021😭😭😭😭😭😭
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Sheila of the Most High
Sheila of the Most High@sheilatebra·
Just read this beautiful story 😭❤ I live in a 12-unit apartment building. For two years, I didn't know a single neighbor. We'd pass in the hallway. Nod. Maybe say "hey." Then disappear into our separate lives. That was normal. That was city living. Then someone new moved into Unit 3. Her name was Diana. She was maybe 70, recently widowed, moving to be closer to her daughter. The first week, she knocked on every door in the building. "Hi, I'm Diana from Unit 3. Just wanted to introduce myself." Most people were polite but brief. We weren't used to this. But Diana didn't take the hint. The next week, she left a note in the lobby: "Building potluck. This Saturday. 6 PM. Bring whatever you want. Or just bring yourself." I almost didn't go. But Saturday came, and I could hear voices in the lobby. Five people showed up. Out of twelve units. We stood around awkwardly at first. Diana had made enough food for twenty people. "Just in case," she said, smiling. We talked. Actual conversations. Turned out the guy in Unit 7 was a musician. The woman in Unit 10 just had a baby. The couple in Unit 5 ran a bakery. We'd lived on top of each other for years and knew nothing about each other. Diana made it a monthly thing. Then someone suggested a building group chat. "For emergencies," they said. But it became more than that. "Anyone have a ladder I can borrow?" "I made too much soup. Anyone want some?" "Can someone feed my cat this weekend?" When the woman in Unit 10 had to go back to work, three neighbors offered to babysit. When the musician in Unit 7 had a gig, eight of us showed up to support him. When someone's car got towed, four people offered rides. Last month, Diana's daughter called me. Diana had fallen and was in the hospital—nothing serious, but she'd need help for a few weeks. We created a schedule. Someone brought her meals every day. Someone else took her to appointments. She cried when she came home and saw the system we'd built. "I just wanted to know my neighbors," she said. But she did more than that. She turned twelve strangers in separate boxes into a community that shows up for each other. All because she knocked on doors and refused to let us stay isolated.
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Clinton
Clinton@614clinton·
My wife and I had dinner at another couples house, and after eating, the ladies left the table and went into the kitchen. We were just sitting there talking, and I said, "Last night we went out to a new restaurant, and it was really good. He said, "What was the name of the restaurant?" I thought and I thought, and I just couldn't remember the name. Finally I said, "What is the name of that flower you give to someone you love? You know, the one that that's red and has thorns." "Do you mean a rose?" "Yes that's the one," I replied. I then turn towards the kitchen and yelled, "Rose, what's the name of that restaurant we went to last night?"
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TEKI
TEKI@tekiltd·
Meet our CEO & lead trainer, @martinmuli He's an award-winning Digital Marketing & E-commerce Trainer with experience from Safaricom, Deloitte, & OLX. His expertise in digital strategy, from founding SOMA Awards & Top 25 Digital initiatives, ensures our graduates are market-ready
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Martin Muli retweetledi
George Njoroge
George Njoroge@georgenjoroge_·
THE LONELY END OF A GOOD MAN. This is the Story of My Friend, Moses Kinuthia, my campus buddy. Since he has allowed me to share. We were in JKUAT together. Young. Loud. Brilliant. Full of plans about the future and how we would conquer the world. Today, Moses is an IT Director at one of the leading commercial banks in the country. On paper, he is the definition of success. A man who did everything right. A man who climbed every rung through discipline and sacrifice. But this is the part nobody sees. His day starts before the sun. He leaves home quietly at 5:20 AM, careful not to wake anyone. The children are asleep. His wife barely turns. Moses tiptoes around the house he pays for, moving like a visitor in the place he built. He gets to work before everyone because that is where his life makes sense. At the office, doors open. People greet him with respect. Colleagues seek his advice. Managers rely on him. In that building, Moses still exists. But in the house he returns to every evening, he has become a ghost. When he gets home, the living room is always full kids watching shows, his wife on the phone, her sister in law using the TV. There is never a seat left for him. Never a moment that feels like his. So Moses has learned a ritual. He walks to his car, closes the door gently, leans the seat back and watches the 7PM news on his phone. Sometimes he sits there long after the news ends, just staring at the roof of the car, breathing slowly, trying to feel human again. When there is a football match, he connects his phone to the car speakers. He used to shout at the TV with joy once, now he celebrates in silence, alone in the driveway, like a boy hiding with stolen sugarcane. Inside the house, nobody asks where he is. Nobody wonders why he eats dinner late. Nobody notices that he spends more time in the car than in his own living room. His 13–year–old son, the one he dreamt of bonding with, is always locked away in his room gaming. The gaming console Moses bought — hoping for father–son weekends is still in its box. His wife said the cables “make the house look untidy.” So the box stays on the top shelf. And the distance between father and son grows quietly, day by day. Weekends are no different. On Saturdays, Moses sometimes walks into a house full of chama ladies sipping tea, laughing loudly. He greets them, forces a smile and walks back out before he blocks the doorway. He strolls around the estate until his feet ache. He listens to the sounds of other families in their living rooms; laughter, loud TV, playful arguments things he does not remember the last time he experienced. When he finally returns at dusk, his younger daughter is watching cartoons on the bedroom TV. The only other TV is in use. So Moses sits on the edge of his bed, watching highlights on his phone, pretending he is fine. Bills keep coming. The mortgage letter. The water disconnection threat. The residents association notice. Security warnings. School fees. Everyone depends on him. Nobody checks on him. Yet he never complains. Because he believes a man must carry the weight silent and steady. But silence has a cost. Last month, he told me something that broke me. “Bro, I feel like I’m disappearing in slow motion. I am alive, but I don’t think anyone would notice if I stopped showing up.” This is the lonely end of a good man. A man who gave everything. A man who showed up every day. A man who traded his youth, his rest, his hobbies and his peace for his family. And somehow, without doing anything wrong, he became invisible in the story of his own life. He is not hated. He is not mistreated. He is simply used and unseen which is sometimes worse. He sits in his car after work because it is the only place he feels the world pause long enough for him to breathe. He eats alone. He celebrates alone. He stresses alone. He survives alone. Not because he failed as a man but because good men often fade in the very homes they built
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TEKI
TEKI@tekiltd·
Teki CEO @martinmuli served as the Chief Judge at the 2025 NGOs Awards Gala Night! We were honored to present the award for Best Use of Social Media. Congratulations to all winners! See all the winners on the @CivilSocietyKe social pages. #Teki #NGOsAwards2025 #SocialMediaAward
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Nwunye Chairmo
Nwunye Chairmo@AnthoniaUmoke·
I got called into a meeting with HR today cause apparently telling my coworker that I knew he was a C-section baby by the way he avoids labour is not acceptable in the workplace.
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TEKI
TEKI@tekiltd·
Our CEO @martinmuli accepted the Gold Winner award for "Training Consultants" at the KeOnline Digitally Fit Awards 2025: Business of the Year Kenya Edition! A huge thank you to KeOnline for the recognition. This is for our amazing team! #Teki #KeOnlineAwards #GoldWinner
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Ahmad Salim
Ahmad Salim@ahmadsalims·
There’s this dude in a black suit with a briefcase always with Uhuru. Who is he? And what’s in that bag?
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TEKI
TEKI@tekiltd·
#Teki's Campus Tour at St Paul's University was a success! Our CEO @martinmuli joined Adelaide Mnene (Ogilvy Africa) & Ed Mureithi (BrighterMonday) as speakers, discussing "Smart Skills for the Digital World." Thanks, St. Paul's! #BrighterMonday #DigitalSkills #CareerReady #AI
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Martin Muli retweetledi
Tessy ♥️🕊️
Tessy ♥️🕊️@Tess_ogar·
I once fired a staff member who had been coming late to work. I didn't care to know why he was acting the way he did. I had earlier warned him about his late coming that week, and the following week, when I discovered he had come late 3 times, I issued a sack letter to him.
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