It’s Just Grass

It’s Just Grass

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You hear voices. They drift over the fence just after sunrise. Small village talk. Voices of men, mostly because women are back at home, swiping the kitchen, lighting fires. What they lack in volume, they make up for in

Witness

Witness

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207

A group of girls outside McMillan Library hand out balaclavas and Kenyan flags. Everybody asks: How much? And they say something you don’t hear often in this economy; It’s free. When you look up at the looming pillared doorway,

REVOLUTION: A THREE PART SERIES

REVOLUTION: A THREE PART SERIES

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183

We are going to get older and out of touch. Our children will be gone. So will our backs and knees. We will need spectacles to read. We will be taking some pills or the other every morning; something

Fathers

Fathers

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Trigger warning: this post discusses experiences of pregnancy loss. 

My dentist is called Kinoti. He runs a swish dental practice called Upper Hill Dental Center next to Nairobi Hospital:  all-white interiors, professional, pristine, state-of-the-art equipment…bells and whistles. Over time

A Mad Bunch

A Mad Bunch

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It rained in such thick drops it felt like it was raining wet sausages. Dusk was descending and the band at Geco Cafe was starting to fiddle with their instruments when I ran out, head bowed, into torrential rain.

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