Who has ever done Atlassian exams certification?. And if so how are the exams .

Who has ever done Atlassian exams certification?. And if so how are the exams .

​

So yesterday around 11 PM, I was fast asleep when I heard someone knocking on my door. Kijana, mimi hulala ndethe 😂, so I jumped out of bed and quickly got dressed.

When I opened the door, I found my friend being held by our security guard. The guy was barefoot, crying, and clearly drunk. The guard and I helped him inside and sat him on the couch.

After he had calmed down, he told me that his girlfriend had sent some goons to “discipline” him. At first, I doubted him, so I decided to find out what had actually happened.

His apartment is just a few meters from mine. I went there, greeted their guard and asked what was going on. The guard told me that the two had been fighting—which was already different from what my friend had told me.

A few minutes later, his girlfriend showed up.

She explained that she had found him partying in their house with some workmates. Funny enough, they both work for the same company. An argument started, things were thrown around, and eventually the situation became physical.

She showed me injuries that were still bleeding and said he had broken her phone and bitten her during the fight.

Then she told me this wasn't the first time. Apparently, alcohol has been a major part of their relationship and the fights have been going on for a long time. Sometimes he even sleeps outside and tells her that he spent the night at my place—which is completely false.

Standing there at almost midnight, listening to both sides, I couldn't help but think about something bigger.

Alcohol might look harmless when you're just having a few drinks with friends, but when drinking becomes a lifestyle, it can seriously affect relationships, decision-making and the kind of family you're trying to build.

If you're thinking about settling down and building a peaceful family, the people you choose to build with matter—but so do the habits you both bring into that relationship.

I came home thinking I was going to sleep, but instead I got a midnight lesson on relationships, alcohol and adulthood.

Do you think heavy drinking and building a stable family can realistically go together?

I've started believing that my longtime friend and I are somehow living parallel lives.

We don't talk often. In fact, we'd probably gone almost two years without a proper conversation. But whenever we finally catch up, we realize we've been going through the same kind of things at almost the same time.

A couple of years ago, the relationships we were in ended around the same period. The funny part? After the breakups, both of our exes told us the same thing: "You're not romantic enough." Different women, different relationships, but somehow the exact same feedback.

The other day, I called him because my job has been going into the trenches and I needed someone to vent to. Before I could even finish explaining what was happening, he stopped me and said, "Bro... I got fired."

I couldn't help but laugh. Not because losing a job is funny, but because it felt like yet another strange coincidence. It seems like whenever life throws a curveball at one of us, the other is going through something similar. Oddly enough, the good things also seem to happen around the same time.

I'm planning to visit him this week. Hopefully, instead of just comparing setbacks, we'll start planning our comeback together.

Does anyone else have that one friend whose life always seems to run on the same timeline as yours?

I started programming before Ai error, it was abit hectic but worth of my time what about yours?

Seniors in the Room how did you land your first gig ?

Last year I bombed a backend developer interview.

Walking out of it, I felt pretty terrible. I knew I wasn't as prepared as I thought I was.

Later, I was talking to a friend of mine (a senior backend developer), and he said something that made me laugh at first—but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how true it was.

He basically said there are a lot of people who expect senior-level pay with junior-level skills.

His examples were brutal:

• A graphic designer who doesn't know Photoshop or CorelDRAW but insists Canva is all they'll ever need.
• A UI/UX designer charging premium rates but struggling to turn simple requirements into usable designs.
• A frontend developer asking for $1,000 per project but can't translate a Figma design into code without blaming the designer.
• A backend developer who needs two weeks to build basic CRUD APIs while charging senior-level hourly rates.
• A DevOps engineer who struggles with basic Linux administration but has a high minimum rate.
• A data analyst who can't properly interpret or visualize data but complains about being underpaid.
• A digital marketer suggesting huge advertising budgets without any real strategy.
• A content creator who barely creates content but expects premium rates.

Obviously these are exaggerated examples, but they make an important point.

A lot of us price ourselves—or apply for jobs—based on what we want to earn rather than what our current skills justify.

That hit me because I had just failed an interview. I couldn't honestly say I was ready for the role I wanted.

Experience is what people actually pay for

My friend also said something else that stuck with me:

>

Clients don't pay senior developers more because of the title. They pay because experienced developers consistently solve difficult problems, deliver on time, and reduce risk.

The same goes for employers.

Experience isn't just years on a résumé. It's the hundreds of hours spent debugging, building projects, reading documentation, fixing production issues, learning new technologies, and making mistakes.

My failed interview reminded me that I still have plenty to learn.

What I'm focusing on now

Instead of worrying about salary, I'm focusing on becoming better.

For me, that means:

• Building more backend projects.
• Getting stronger with databases and SQL.
• Writing cleaner APIs.
• Learning system design.
• Reading documentation instead of relying entirely on tutorials.
• Practicing interview questions regularly.

Another important lesson was to seek honest feedback.

Failing the interview hurt, but it also showed me exactly where my weaknesses are. That's far more useful than thinking I'm ready when I'm not.

Earn your confidence

There's nothing wrong with wanting a higher salary.

But confidence should be backed by competence.

If you keep improving your skills, the opportunities and better pay usually follow. People don't argue much with someone who consistently delivers quality work.

Final thoughts

Failing that interview was disappointing, but maybe I needed it.

It forced me to stop focusing on the job title I wanted and start focusing on becoming the developer who deserves it.

I'd rather spend the next year becoming genuinely good than pretending I'm already there.

Has anyone else had an interview failure that completely changed how you approached learning?

Last year, my mum wanted me to travel all the way to Kakande in Kampala for prayers from Nairobi. I was actually about to go, but I stopped and thought about it. Over the past few years, I've become increasingly skeptical of many modern pastors because I've noticed that some seem to rely more on emotional manipulation, promises of miracles, and fear than on encouraging critical thinking or personal responsibility.

Around that time, I had also been watching IQ Watson's content, which challenged many of the assumptions I'd grown up with. In the end, I decided not to go.

My mum was furious, and we didn't speak for about a week.

That experience pushed me to study religion from a historical and philosophical perspective rather than simply accepting or rejecting it.

One thing I've also observed, particularly in parts of East Africa, is the contrast between how some religious communities respond to the needs of their leaders versus the needs of ordinary members. In Nairobi and elsewhere, it isn't uncommon to see congregations mobilized to contribute toward a pastor's new car, house, ministry expansion, or other projects. Yet when an ordinary believer is struggling with school fees, medical bills, unemployment, rent, or trying to start a small business, the advice is often simply to "have faith," "pray about it," or "sow a seed" and trust that God will provide.

That contrast raises difficult questions for me. If the church is meant to function as a community that supports one another, why does financial generosity sometimes seem to flow more readily toward charismatic leaders than toward members facing genuine hardship? Is this an isolated problem limited to certain churches, or has it become an increasingly accepted model in parts of modern Christianity? I recognize that many churches do operate food banks, pay school fees, provide emergency assistance, and care for vulnerable members, so this observation certainly doesn't apply to every congregation. But the pattern I've personally encountered has made me question how priorities are sometimes set.

One book that really made me think was \*Hard Times Create Strong Men\* by Stefano Aarnio. One of his central arguments is that great civilizations weren't built without a strong spiritual or philosophical foundation. He argues that the Roman Republic, during its rise, was heavily influenced by Stoicism, which functioned almost like a civil religion. According to Aarnio, Stoicism emphasized cause and effect, self-discipline, reason, personal accountability, and denying fleeting pleasures in favor of duty and long-term purpose. This mindset helped produce resilient, disciplined leaders who were capable of building and governing an empire.

Aarnio also argues that civilizations decline when they lose this spiritual backbone. As discipline gives way to comfort, instant gratification, materialism, and decadence, societies gradually weaken from within. One of the recurring themes throughout the book is that a strong civilization depends on people developing four pillars: a strong mind, a strong body, a strong spirit, and the discipline to master their environment and leave a lasting legacy.

Reading this made me realize that religion or philosophy isn't inherently the problem. Throughout history, belief systems have often helped create social cohesion, moral values, discipline, and a shared sense of purpose. The bigger question is what kind of religion or philosophy is being promoted.

More recently, I watched James Jani's 2022 documentary, \*The Dark World of Megachurches\*, which examines the rise of the modern Prosperity Gospel. While it presents a critical perspective and should be understood as one interpretation rather than the final word, it raised several important questions that resonated with concerns I had already been wrestling with.

The documentary argues that the Prosperity Gospel has drifted away from traditional Christian theology and increasingly serves consumer culture and market-driven values rather than biblical teachings. According to the film, this movement:

\* Shifts attention away from social justice and structural problems toward individual miracle-centered faith, often placing responsibility for poverty on the individual rather than addressing wider economic realities. \* Presents a view of God that mirrors human desires for wealth, status, and success instead of emphasizing themes such as suffering, grace, humility, and service that are central to much of historic Christianity. \* Encourages a transactional understanding of faith, where giving money, demonstrating sufficient belief, or following a charismatic leader is portrayed as a pathway to financial success and social mobility. \* Suggests that suffering, illness, or financial hardship are evidence of weak faith or hidden sin, a position that stands in tension with biblical narratives such as Job and with Jesus' own teachings about suffering.

Whether one agrees with all of these conclusions or not, the documentary reinforced an important distinction for me: criticizing certain expressions of religion is not the same as rejecting religion itself. It challenged me to ask whether some modern religious movements have shifted away from cultivating virtue and moral character toward offering hope through promised miracles, financial breakthroughs, and emotional experiences.

Recently, I also came across a post on X that said:

>

I don't necessarily agree with every part of that statement, but it made me think. If religion is supposed to build disciplined, morally responsible individuals—as Stoicism arguably did for Rome—why do some modern religious movements seem to emphasize prosperity, miracles, unquestioning obedience, and financial giving over personal responsibility, discipline, and character? Why is it that raising funds for a pastor's latest project can sometimes appear easier than organizing support for members facing genuine hardship? Has the role of religion changed, or am I only seeing one side of it?

That brings me back to Africa.

Why is religion still so deeply embedded across much of Africa compared to Europe, much of Asia, or North America? Many Western societies have become increasingly secular over the last century, yet they still tend to have relatively strong institutions and high levels of social trust. Meanwhile, religion continues to play a central role in many African countries, but in some cases it also seems to be intertwined with prosperity preaching, miracle culture, and charismatic personalities.

Is this mainly because of economic conditions? Colonial history? Education? Culture? Or does religion simply fill needs that governments and institutions haven't been able to meet?

I'm genuinely curious to hear different perspectives. Do you think religion in Africa today is serving the same role that philosophies like Stoicism once did in Rome—building disciplined, resilient citizens—or has it evolved into something fundamentally different?

Perhaps the deeper question isn't whether religion is good or bad, but whether any belief system—religious or secular—is encouraging people to become more disciplined, compassionate, rational, and responsible, or whether it is merely promising easy answers to difficult realities.!

Last year, my mum wanted me to travel all the way to Kakande in Kampala for prayers from Nairobi. I was actually about to go, but I stopped and thought about it. Over the past few years, I've become increasingly skeptical of many modern pastors because I've noticed that some seem to rely more on emotional manipulation, promises of miracles, and fear than on encouraging critical thinking or personal responsibility.

Around that time, I had also been watching IQ Watson's content, which challenged many of the assumptions I'd grown up with. In the end, I decided not to go.

My mum was furious, and we didn't speak for about a week.

That experience pushed me to study religion from a historical and philosophical perspective rather than simply accepting or rejecting it.

One thing I've also observed, particularly in parts of East Africa, is the contrast between how some religious communities respond to the needs of their leaders versus the needs of ordinary members. In Nairobi and elsewhere, it isn't uncommon to see congregations mobilized to contribute toward a pastor's new car, house, ministry expansion, or other projects. Yet when an ordinary believer is struggling with school fees, medical bills, unemployment, rent, or trying to start a small business, the advice is often simply to "have faith," "pray about it," or "sow a seed" and trust that God will provide.

That contrast raises difficult questions for me. If the church is meant to function as a community that supports one another, why does financial generosity sometimes seem to flow more readily toward charismatic leaders than toward members facing genuine hardship? Is this an isolated problem limited to certain churches, or has it become an increasingly accepted model in parts of modern Christianity? I recognize that many churches do operate food banks, pay school fees, provide emergency assistance, and care for vulnerable members, so this observation certainly doesn't apply to every congregation. But the pattern I've personally encountered has made me question how priorities are sometimes set.

One book that really made me think was *Hard Times Create Strong Men* by Stefano Aarnio. One of his central arguments is that great civilizations weren't built without a strong spiritual or philosophical foundation. He argues that the Roman Republic, during its rise, was heavily influenced by Stoicism, which functioned almost like a civil religion. According to Aarnio, Stoicism emphasized cause and effect, self-discipline, reason, personal accountability, and denying fleeting pleasures in favor of duty and long-term purpose. This mindset helped produce resilient, disciplined leaders who were capable of building and governing an empire.

Aarnio also argues that civilizations decline when they lose this spiritual backbone. As discipline gives way to comfort, instant gratification, materialism, and decadence, societies gradually weaken from within. One of the recurring themes throughout the book is that a strong civilization depends on people developing four pillars: a strong mind, a strong body, a strong spirit, and the discipline to master their environment and leave a lasting legacy.

Reading this made me realize that religion or philosophy isn't inherently the problem. Throughout history, belief systems have often helped create social cohesion, moral values, discipline, and a shared sense of purpose. The bigger question is what kind of religion or philosophy is being promoted.

More recently, I watched James Jani's 2022 documentary, *The Dark World of Megachurches*, which examines the rise of the modern Prosperity Gospel. While it presents a critical perspective and should be understood as one interpretation rather than the final word, it raised several important questions that resonated with concerns I had already been wrestling with.

The documentary argues that the Prosperity Gospel has drifted away from traditional Christian theology and increasingly serves consumer culture and market-driven values rather than biblical teachings. According to the film, this movement:

* Shifts attention away from social justice and structural problems toward individual miracle-centered faith, often placing responsibility for poverty on the individual rather than addressing wider economic realities. * Presents a view of God that mirrors human desires for wealth, status, and success instead of emphasizing themes such as suffering, grace, humility, and service that are central to much of historic Christianity. * Encourages a transactional understanding of faith, where giving money, demonstrating sufficient belief, or following a charismatic leader is portrayed as a pathway to financial success and social mobility. * Suggests that suffering, illness, or financial hardship are evidence of weak faith or hidden sin, a position that stands in tension with biblical narratives such as Job and with Jesus' own teachings about suffering.

Whether one agrees with all of these conclusions or not, the documentary reinforced an important distinction for me: criticizing certain expressions of religion is not the same as rejecting religion itself. It challenged me to ask whether some modern religious movements have shifted away from cultivating virtue and moral character toward offering hope through promised miracles, financial breakthroughs, and emotional experiences.

Recently, I also came across a post on X that said:

>

I don't necessarily agree with every part of that statement, but it made me think. If religion is supposed to build disciplined, morally responsible individuals—as Stoicism arguably did for Rome—why do some modern religious movements seem to emphasize prosperity, miracles, unquestioning obedience, and financial giving over personal responsibility, discipline, and character? Why is it that raising funds for a pastor's latest project can sometimes appear easier than organizing support for members facing genuine hardship? Has the role of religion changed, or am I only seeing one side of it?

That brings me back to Africa.

Why is religion still so deeply embedded across much of Africa compared to Europe, much of Asia, or North America? Many Western societies have become increasingly secular over the last century, yet they still tend to have relatively strong institutions and high levels of social trust. Meanwhile, religion continues to play a central role in many African countries, but in some cases it also seems to be intertwined with prosperity preaching, miracle culture, and charismatic personalities.

Is this mainly because of economic conditions? Colonial history? Education? Culture? Or does religion simply fill needs that governments and institutions haven't been able to meet?

I'm genuinely curious to hear different perspectives. Do you think religion in Africa today is serving the same role that philosophies like Stoicism once did in Rome—building disciplined, resilient citizens—or has it evolved into something fundamentally different?

Perhaps the deeper question isn't whether religion is good or bad, but whether any belief system—religious or secular—is encouraging people to become more disciplined, compassionate, rational, and responsible, or whether it is merely promising easy answers to difficult realities.!

Last year, my mum wanted me to travel all the way to Kakande in Kampala for prayers from Nairobi. I was actually about to go, but I stopped and thought about it. Over the past few years, I've become increasingly skeptical of many modern pastors because I've noticed that some seem to rely more on emotional manipulation, promises of miracles, and fear than on encouraging critical thinking or personal responsibility.

Around that time, I had also been watching IQ Watson's content, which challenged many of the assumptions I'd grown up with. In the end, I decided not to go.

My mum was furious, and we didn't speak for about a week.

That experience pushed me to study religion from a historical and philosophical perspective rather than simply accepting or rejecting it.

One thing I've also observed, particularly in parts of East Africa, is the contrast between how some religious communities respond to the needs of their leaders versus the needs of ordinary members. In Nairobi and elsewhere, it isn't uncommon to see congregations mobilized to contribute toward a pastor's new car, house, ministry expansion, or other projects. Yet when an ordinary believer is struggling with school fees, medical bills, unemployment, rent, or trying to start a small business, the advice is often simply to "have faith," "pray about it," or "sow a seed" and trust that God will provide.

That contrast raises difficult questions for me. If the church is meant to function as a community that supports one another, why does financial generosity sometimes seem to flow more readily toward charismatic leaders than toward members facing genuine hardship? Is this an isolated problem limited to certain churches, or has it become an increasingly accepted model in parts of modern Christianity? I recognize that many churches do operate food banks, pay school fees, provide emergency assistance, and care for vulnerable members, so this observation certainly doesn't apply to every congregation. But the pattern I've personally encountered has made me question how priorities are sometimes set.

One book that really made me think was Hard Times Create Strong Men by Stefano Aarnio. One of his central arguments is that great civilizations weren't built without a strong spiritual or philosophical foundation. He argues that the Roman Republic, during its rise, was heavily influenced by Stoicism, which functioned almost like a civil religion. According to Aarnio, Stoicism emphasized cause and effect, self-discipline, reason, personal accountability, and denying fleeting pleasures in favor of duty and long-term purpose. This mindset helped produce resilient, disciplined leaders who were capable of building and governing an empire.

Aarnio also argues that civilizations decline when they lose this spiritual backbone. As discipline gives way to comfort, instant gratification, materialism, and decadence, societies gradually weaken from within. One of the recurring themes throughout the book is that a strong civilization depends on people developing four pillars: a strong mind, a strong body, a strong spirit, and the discipline to master their environment and leave a lasting legacy.

Reading this made me realize that religion or philosophy isn't inherently the problem. Throughout history, belief systems have often helped create social cohesion, moral values, discipline, and a shared sense of purpose. The bigger question is what kind of religion or philosophy is being promoted.

More recently, I watched James Jani's 2022 documentary, The Dark World of Megachurches, which examines the rise of the modern Prosperity Gospel. While it presents a critical perspective and should be understood as one interpretation rather than the final word, it raised several important questions that resonated with concerns I had already been wrestling with.

The documentary argues that the Prosperity Gospel has drifted away from traditional Christian theology and increasingly serves consumer culture and market-driven values rather than biblical teachings. According to the film, this movement:

• Shifts attention away from social justice and structural problems toward individual miracle-centered faith, often placing responsibility for poverty on the individual rather than addressing wider economic realities.
• Presents a view of God that mirrors human desires for wealth, status, and success instead of emphasizing themes such as suffering, grace, humility, and service that are central to much of historic Christianity.
• Encourages a transactional understanding of faith, where giving money, demonstrating sufficient belief, or following a charismatic leader is portrayed as a pathway to financial success and social mobility.
• Suggests that suffering, illness, or financial hardship are evidence of weak faith or hidden sin, a position that stands in tension with biblical narratives such as Job and with Jesus' own teachings about suffering.

Whether one agrees with all of these conclusions or not, the documentary reinforced an important distinction for me: criticizing certain expressions of religion is not the same as rejecting religion itself. It challenged me to ask whether some modern religious movements have shifted away from cultivating virtue and moral character toward offering hope through promised miracles, financial breakthroughs, and emotional experiences.

Recently, I also came across a post on X that said:

>

I don't necessarily agree with every part of that statement, but it made me think. If religion is supposed to build disciplined, morally responsible individuals—as Stoicism arguably did for Rome—why do some modern religious movements seem to emphasize prosperity, miracles, unquestioning obedience, and financial giving over personal responsibility, discipline, and character? Why is it that raising funds for a pastor's latest project can sometimes appear easier than organizing support for members facing genuine hardship? Has the role of religion changed, or am I only seeing one side of it?

That brings me back to Africa.

Why is religion still so deeply embedded across much of Africa compared to Europe, much of Asia, or North America? Many Western societies have become increasingly secular over the last century, yet they still tend to have relatively strong institutions and high levels of social trust. Meanwhile, religion continues to play a central role in many African countries, but in some cases it also seems to be intertwined with prosperity preaching, miracle culture, and charismatic personalities.

Is this mainly because of economic conditions? Colonial history? Education? Culture? Or does religion simply fill needs that governments and institutions haven't been able to meet?

I'm genuinely curious to hear different perspectives. Do you think religion in Africa today is serving the same role that philosophies like Stoicism once did in Rome—building disciplined, resilient citizens—or has it evolved into something fundamentally different?

Perhaps the deeper question isn't whether religion is good or bad, but whether any belief system—religious or secular—is encouraging people to become more disciplined, compassionate, rational, and responsible, or whether it is merely promising easy answers to difficult realities.!

I have a good story on religion can I share here ?, or we stick to tech stuff only . Something I encountered last year.

I wanted to come back and thank everyone who took the time to comment on my original post. I carefully read all of your advice, even the comments that were difficult to hear.

After reflecting on everything, I've decided to take the following approach:

• I'll keep my cashier job for now. mostly covers my rent, transport, and basic expenses, it provides stability while I work toward my long-term goals.
• I'll pursue the degree, since it's fully funded by my parents. I realized it would be unwise to pass up an opportunity that many people don't have.
• I'll continue applying for tech roles while building a stronger portfolio, contributing to projects, improving my backend skills, and taking on freelance work whenever possible. If anyone has a project they think I could contribute to or would be willing to refer me to, I'd be incredibly grateful for the opportunity. I'm genuinely eager to gain more hands-on experience and work on real-world tech project
• I'll save consistently and only start another business after validating the market and building enough capital.

One thing I learned from this discussion is that I don't have to choose just one path. I can work, study, continue developing my tech skills, and prepare for entrepreneurship at the same time.

Thank you all for your honesty and encouragement. Your advice genuinely helped me make a more informed decision. I hope that one day I'll come back here to share some good news.

I'm 27 years old and feeling a bit lost about what my next step should be.

I have a Diploma in IT and also completed a Backend Development certification at Moringa School. After graduating, I spent a few months hustling as a backend developer and volunteered on several projects that helped me improve my skills and build experience.

Unfortunately, despite applying for jobs consistently, I haven't been able to land a tech role since 2024.

To pay my bills, I currently work as a cashier in Karen during the day. I'm grateful to have a source of income, but it's not where I imagined I'd be at this stage, and lately I've been wondering whether I should explore a different career path.

I also tried starting a business before, but it failed because I ran out of capital.

Now my parents want me to go back to school and pursue a degree. I'm hesitant because I'm not convinced it's the right move, especially considering the current job market. Personally, I'd rather use that money to start another business, but they're not willing to support that idea.

I'm torn between:

• Continuing to pursue a career in tech.
• Going back to school for a degree.
• Trying to start a business again.

For those who've been in a similar situation, what would you do? Is a degree likely to improve my chances in tech, or would I be better off focusing on building a business or developing another source of income?

I'd really appreciate any honest advice or experiences. Thanks in advance.