Why a little colour, a little chaos, and a lot of character might also do some good.
Every Saturday morning in Nairobi, the "parking boys" - as the homeless street children were called - would stream into our backyard. They sat patiently on the cold concrete floor, while we followed my parents around helping them as they handed each child half a loaf of bread and a carton of milk. I still recall those KCC tetra-packs of milk. How word spread amongst them and their weekly numbers grew I always wondered. What I did know was that giving was simply something we did.
Years later in Mombasa, that tradition continued. Once a month every Saturday night, my three sons and their father would load a large pot of rajma (red kidney beans), rice or ugali into the back of our pickup, serving hot meals to the homeless sleeping on cardboard along the pavements.
Later, as a single mother arriving in Canada with three young children, I learned what it meant to stretch every dollar. A dear friend once paid for my youngest son's swimming lessons, calling swimming an essential life skill. Her kindness stayed with me. Over the years I’ve had friends support me invarious ways; one contributed towards a course I never completed, another put down a deposit for a business venture that failed. Those acts of selfless kindnesses have also stayed with me.
We even introduced a matching-grant scheme in the family. If the boys sold an old video game for $25, I'd contribute another $25 towards a new one, before rushing to EB games so they could excitedly pick their next game. The Canadian government wasn't the only one offering matching grants! I always believed that "it's not what you say, but what you do" when raising children. The best way to teach was by example.
When I ran my Kumon centres for twenty years, I could never turn away a parent who genuinely needed help with tuition. Sometimes that meant reduced fees, sometimes free tuition. At other times I was donating to causes close to my heart. I still remember writing a $5,000 cheque to a charity struggling to meet its fundraising target for a food bank serving hungry children. The recipients were astonished and frankly, so was I, remembering the nights I had lain awake wondering how to pay the bills.
But what an extraordinary privilege it was to finally be in a position to give.
As Kahlil Gibran wrote in The Prophet; "And is not the time of giving now, and not in the time of your inheritors?"
Those words have stayed with me long after I first read them.
Finding a Way to Give Again
Last year, I sold my business. With that freedom came new creative pursuits and something I hadn't anticipated missing so deeply: my inability to give as freely as I once had. Giving wasn't just about writing big cheques when business was booming; it was about passing on the kindness others had shown us over time.
Across cultures and centuries, different traditions have encouraged generosity and sharing. Sikhism teaches Vand Chhako and Dasvandh, Christianity has tithing, Islam has Zakat, Judaism teaches Tzedakah, and Hindu and Buddhist traditions embrace Dāna.
Growing up in Kenya, we also knew the spirit of Harambee - pulling together as a community. It wasn't a prescribed religious tithe but a collective effort to help someone in need. Fundraising was woven into everyday life, often through our employees or colleagues seeking contributions for family, education or community causes.
Different practices, but a shared reminder that what we have can also serve others. Generosity needn't wait until we have more than enough. And kindness isn't something that grows on us overnight; it must be taught, practised and lived.
That belief led to The Ink Shop at Sanjit K Ink.
Care & Share: A Personal Commitment
Over the past few months, I've created a colourful, quirky collection of scarves, bags, notebooks and other little treasures. But there's a purpose beyond the products.
I want to create a sustainable way to give again through our Care & Share initiative.
The Share: A portion of the shop's proceeds, after production and operating costs, will go towards charitable causes. As the shop grows, so will our ability to contribute.
The Match: Continuing our family's matching-grant tradition, my intention is to personally match the shop's charitable donations, dollar for dollar, as finances allow.
The Accountability: I'll share updates and donation receipts so you can see where your contributions go. Generosity doesn't need an audience, but trust deserves transparency.
As we enter the season of giving, perhaps you'll find something a little different for yourself or someone you love - a scarf that brings a smile, a notebook waiting for a story, or a bag that carries more than just groceries.
And while the holidays may be a wonderful time to give, kindness has no season. The Ink Shop, and the spirit of Care & Share, are here all year round.
A little colour. A little chaos. A lot of character. And a little kindness passed along.
Life gets messy. Ink helps.
