Starting from the end.

  160    
11

He was called Sultan. He reached for the door of the Tuk Tuk as soon as it ground to a stop outside Fort Jesus. And there he was helping the missus out like a perfect gentleman (something I should …

Stories for men…

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3

There are men who constantly stare at themselves in the gym mirror. I can’t think of a greater testimony of vanity. Kwame is one of them- at least he used to nine years ago. Kwame is my boy. This …

Q&A

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6

Right now the Elephant in this blog is in form of a question; why the hell didn’t I post something last Monday? I honestly don’t have any excuse that won’t insult your intelligence, so I will give it a …

How to buy a cow…and kill a pig

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0

So you meet a girl. Let’s say you meet her in some bash along Ngong road. She is sitting at a corner, nursing a drink in a plastic cup. Legs crossed. 3 Doors Down’s It’s not my time is …

Blue in Watamu

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Between you and me I didn’t feel like posting anything this week. I’m totally devoid of any urge to write. I’m not stimulated enough. Word document make me nauseas. Words feel like glue. Quick sand, that’s what it is. …

Starting Over

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I have cousin called Farouk. Not his real name. Farouk is a jailbird. I won’t get into why and how he ended up in the can again because I wrote about it here in one of my earlier post. …

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