Think about a big family gathering at home. Christmas, a ruracio, a graduation party.

Who wakes up first that day?

The cook. Usually a mother, an aunt, a grandmother. She's up before sunrise, peeling, chopping, stirring huge sufurias over the fire. By midday the compound smells incredible. Pilau, chapati, beef stew, kachumbari.

Then the serving begins.

The guests are served first, of course. Then the elders. Then the men. Then the children, who've been circling the kitchen for hours. Someone comes back for seconds. Someone's cousin arrives late and needs a plate.

And the cook?

She eats last. Standing up in the kitchen, scraping whatever is left from the bottom of the sufuria. Sometimes it's a decent plate. Sometimes it's a few grains of rice and the burnt bits stuck to the pot. Sometimes there's nothing at all, and she simply says she isn't hungry.

The person who made every single thing on that day goes home with the least.

That is how most of us handle our money.

You are the cook. You wake up early, you sit in traffic, you work long days. Every shilling that comes into your home exists because you produced it.

Then payday arrives, and you start serving.

The landlord gets his plate first. Then school fees. Then the supermarket, the power bill, the internet, the fuel, the chama, the family WhatsApp contribution, the friend's emergency. Everyone gets served.

And you? You scrape the sufuria at the end of the month and promise yourself you'll do better next time.

You never do. Because there is always someone else in the queue.

Paying yourself first simply means the cook dishes her own plate before anyone else is served.

Not a bigger plate than everyone else. Not the whole pot. Just a fair portion, set aside at the very beginning, before the queue forms.

And here's the important part: that plate isn't for eating. It's the portion you send off to an investment where it can grow, so that one day you're no longer the only one cooking.

Most people misunderstand this. They hear "pay yourself" and think it means a treat. New shoes, a weekend away. But spending on yourself is still serving someone else. The shoe shop gets the plate.

Paying yourself means keeping a portion that stays yours and keeps working.

Now, why do almost all of us still end up scraping the pot?

Because we try to do it with willpower. "I'll save whatever is left this month."

But nothing is ever left. The queue is endless. There will always be a guest, a bill, a request, an emergency you didn't see coming.

Pius puts it bluntly: when it comes to money, you either run it with a system, or you will lose. Every time.

So don't rely on good intentions. Build a rule. Decide your portion. Set it to leave your account automatically on payday, before you even see the balance. Make your plate the first thing served, not the last hope.

And this isn't a rule for people with little money. It works the same at every level. Someone earning 25,000 a month and someone earning millions face the same danger: if every shilling goes out to others, nothing ever multiplies. The money just passes through their hands.

It's not the size of the portion that matters most.

It's whether the cook gets a plate at all.

So this payday, before you serve anyone, stop for a moment.

You made this meal. You earned every shilling of it. Dish your plate first.

Tune in!

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