Cliffton Otieno was once a shining example of what determination could achieve in his Homa Bay village.
As one of the first young men from his community to secure direct admission to the University of Nairobi, Otieno represented hope, ambition and a future that seemed full of possibilities. But years later, behind the image of a professional psychological counsellor helping others overcome addiction, he was quietly fighting a battle of his own.
Betting had taken hold of his life.
Otieno’s troubles intensified after he returned from rehabilitation and tried to rebuild his life while maintaining sobriety. His marriage eventually collapsed, and around the same period, he suffered a major setback in his career.
Although he managed to find another job, his new salary was about 30 per cent lower than what he had previously earned. Financial pressure mounted, leaving him struggling to meet his obligations and desperately searching for a way to restore the life he had lost.
Then came a seemingly harmless story that would push him deeper into the gambling trap.
His barber reportedly won KSh2 million on the Aviator betting platform after staking KSh150,000. For Otieno, the story planted a dangerous idea.
He began imagining that he too could make a fortune through betting.
Part of his motivation was financial desperation. Another part, he admits, was the desire to prove himself to his former wife and show that he could still afford the kind of lifestyle he once had. In his mind, buying a car and displaying financial success appeared within reach.
He borrowed KSh110,000 and staked the entire amount.
But instead of walking away after the loss, Otieno chased his money. The amount he eventually wagered rose beyond KSh300,000, yet he lost everything without cashing out even once.
The damage went far beyond borrowed money.
At one point, he turned to more than KSh200,000 he had painstakingly saved to construct a home in Homa Bay. The money was meant to secure his future, but it too disappeared into betting.
The loss left him devastated and ashamed.
“After losing the construction money, I felt so bad that I returned to Nairobi without getting to the village,” he recalled. “The first thing I did was to open up to friends and seek help.”
By the time Otieno finally walked away from betting, he estimates that he had lost more than KSh1.5 million. A significant portion of the money had been borrowed, leaving him with debts that followed him for years.
What makes his story particularly haunting is the contradiction at the heart of it.
Otieno was a psychological counsellor—someone whose professional life involved helping people understand and overcome gambling addiction. He knew the dangers. He understood the psychology behind chasing losses. He warned others about the very trap that had ensnared him.
Yet privately, he was living the same nightmare.
While counselling others, he was struggling to keep his own finances afloat, borrowing money and returning repeatedly to betting platforms in the hope of recovering what he had already lost.
Eventually, however, he realised that secrecy was only deepening the problem.
He began by opening up to close friends and seeking help. Later, he chose to speak more openly about his experience, confronting the shame, debt and despair that had accompanied his addiction.
For Otieno, recovery did not begin with winning back the money.
It began with accepting that the money was gone—and admitting that he needed help.
His journey is now a powerful reminder that gambling addiction does not discriminate. It can affect the highly educated, professionals and even those who spend their working lives helping others escape addiction.
Sometimes, the person giving the warning may also be fighting the same battle in silence.
