What’s the weight of shame and embarrassment? Does it, say, weigh more than joy and pride? Does it weigh more than a new-born baby’s head? Or sirloin? Would you use shame and embarrassment as an anchor to prevent a …
This is not another Kibera story. Nobody needs another Kibera story. Not another bleeding-heart story of desperation and hopelessness in a wasteland that seems like faraway land, a mysterious place where the sun meets the land. Does anybody need …
Sometimes he looks at his wife lying on the other sofa, legs stretched out, a cup of tea at the foot of the sofa, watching a silly video from her phone with a frozen smile on her face, the …
I once dated this girl who smoked. Dunhills. She always smelled of cigarettes and perfume. She lived in a house that had a tree branch that peeked into the balcony. I found it distracting and I offered to cut …
Some of you have been sending me compliments for upgrading the aesthetics of this patio. You say that the new curtains have given it a more modern feeling. Truer words have never been spoken.
Five years back, when people asked if I, Eddy Ashioya, was a writer or knew Bikozulu, my answers were straight: “No” to the first and “Who?” to the second, because it’s always good to defy expectations. But life comes …