sunset saga

Childhood is such a gift. The fact that at one point you were a child is just amazing. From poor family or a well off family you just found a way of enjoying your childhood. When you had no heartaches because of oil and gas prices. You didn’t even care about prices because... why would you? You got scars that became lessons and good memories as well. When I was a child my mother wanted me to be a pilot and our pastor used to call me Doctor. I didn’t know what I wanted to become but my father wanted me to be who I want to be. All is well because I’m here being what I didn’t intend to be but it’s all working well. God’s plan you know… Childhood is fragile. In my reference books childhood to some capacity defines who you become. This might be scary! Story Story In 1929 when my grandfather was having his 5 th birthday party a couple living in the mill town of Alcolu, South Carolina were proudly blessed with a baby boy. They were blacks, African Americans. They lived in a humble comp

There are three parties here, but more if you’re keen. Friday it is. Late in the evening, the sun is going back wherever it came from in the morning. The horizon is beautifully colored by the setting sun. In Muthiga people are busy getting drunk, if you’re not getting drunk you just feel crazy happy.  It is Friday you know.  I was heading to the hospital. I needed to get there quick, someone was there. Someone important. I jumped into a matatu, we headed to Naivasha road. It was playing some annoying music. You can’t ask them to change the music or switch it off. You can’t argue with a tout in Nairobi you know, they are like African moms who believe in prophets. I chose endurance. I leaned back and put my bag on my laps as the music throbbed my eardrums. At the Nairobi hospital, having lost my way a couple of times I bumped on her. The lady I came to see. She was not sick; someone else was. He was going in for surgery in the next few minutes. We were not allowed to see him. The silen

  Beautiful days are seen in the morning. Those who thought they were wise said that. But sometimes beautiful days are seen  late in the evening. I was home with a good friend of mine, call him T for Tom. A friend that we’ve been with through tough hurdles of life. We get along like a house on fire. We were having coffee in the evening doing some boy talk. Him telling me how he loves baby mama dramas like Kenyan celebrities. We were deeply indulged in our conversation, talking about this common phrase 'what next after campus.' I had graduated a month ago and was already desperately looking for a job.  I had applied for jobs and internships but had got no feedback from wherever. I was already feeling frustrated but my guy kept telling me ‘bro it’s been only a month and a half’. Amidst our conversation my phone rang. I thought it was Nyakamagambo. Around this time she would call me to go and pick animal feed by the road from the nduthi guy. She keeps poultry, a dairy cow and has

  Yet another Tuesday, of a father and a son. After working your ass off in high school, the government sponsors you to the university. A few years ago, he stepped into the college gates with his father. His mother is disabled so she didn’t travel to the city. The city is a busy place, it’s hectic to move around with a disabled person. She was amputated because she had cancer. He was a young lad then, barely 19. Fresh from the village, with no life experience in the city. He just lived by the tales he heard. You remember how people used to tell you that in Nairobi you can’t make a call in town? That the phones just vanish like there are ghosts in town? Or someone just come and tell you to give them your phone and you give them without a word in the broad day light. They demand your charger and because of your fear you ask them if they could take the earphone too just be left in one piece. As if that’s not enough you’re forced to give them a push and tell them to have a fruitful day ahe