Amakove Wala goes everywhere. She packs her bags and her children, and she goes. She follows the sun. Sometimes she follows the wind. Mostly it’s her heart. But first, she finds time because she has a son and triplet …
You know how you remember walking along the beach on the coast at sunset, the small fragile hands of a girl in yours, a girl you haven’t had sex with but one you are confident you will sleep with …
Kids. What an unending paradox. My son, 6, can never sit still. He constantly wants to challenge time. He wants to leave the room. Now. His legs jerk under tables. He paces around while we wait; standing on tiptoes …
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 …
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 …
