Remote working offers one of the best freedoms a professional can claim. In my prime, I would plan drafts in my Simba, windows down, Nakuru's breeze mixing with Nyashinski's Mungu Pekee on repeat. I'd refine those same pieces in Naivasha, zebras grazing just beyond the fence, coffee cooling beside my laptop. Final edits happened wherever I landed—an airport lounge, a friend's couch, a quiet corner before submission. That was my office. That was my rhythm.
For years, I built something rare: a thriving freelance writing career that rose through platforms like Upwork, graduated beyond content mills, and eventually sustained itself through direct referrals. I chose projects that sparked curiosity. I worked in whatever felt comfortable, Papi Clever & Dorcas harmonizing through my headphones, accountability measured not by attendance but by output. No one watched me clock in. My reputation was my timecard—clear communication, reliability, and quality delivered whether I was in pajamas or a 3D hood.
The world shifted, as it does. 2021 brought the pandemic's uncertainty. 2023 and 2024 introduced AI detectors that questioned human craftsmanship. Then Kenya's Gen Z protests of 2024 reshaped the national conversation—and my risk calculus.
The work dried up in ways I hadn't prepared for. Retainers fell away. Inboxes went quiet. Eventually, I was down to one loyal client and the ghosts of a calendar that used to overflow. The freedom that once fed me started feeling like a weight.
I needed to test whether the discipline I'd cultivated in solitude could translate to structure.
It could. It did.
I stepped into a safety and security role with fixed hours, reporting lines, and the expectation of physical presence. The transition was stark: from choosing my environment to adapting to one, from solo execution to real-time teamwork, from creative independence to procedural adherence. Yet the foundation holds. The same reliability that kept clients returning now ensures I meet shift requirements. The same learning agility that let me master unfamiliar topics for articles now helps me absorb SOPs, situational awareness protocols, and the intricate dance between technology, policy, and human behavior.
The learning curve was steep. Today, I research threat assessment methodologies, observe how professionals read environments, and write documentation that prevents harm—procedures, incident reports, training materials. Same tools, transformed context.
Today, among my top lessons: versatility isn't about where you work, but how you show up. The Simba and the shift floor both demand presence, just different kinds. Freelancing built my self-direction; structured work sharpened my accountability and situational awareness. The freedom of the Simba taught me to think expansively; the discipline of the shift taught me to act precisely.
There's pride in this adaptability—not the loud kind, but the quiet confidence of knowing I can learn fast, observe keenly, and reset across systems. I can navigate both the unstructured creative sprint and the methodical security patrol.
The structured role fulfills something I didn't know I needed: tangible impact, immediate accountability, the texture of teamwork, a reason to show up when my own momentum failed me. Yet my foundation remains in those freelance rhythms—the curiosity, the craft, the independence of thought. I haven't left that world; I've expanded into another.
© 2025
David Kiboi Since 2019