BY MIKE MUTHAKA He was a chef in Paris. Then he was a farmer. Then he was a door-to-door salesman in Scotland. He’d go around selling cooking stoves and making a killing at it. He was so good, in fact, that his boss asked him to write an instruction manual
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA Love can make a man do crazy things. Love can make a man run through the rain clutching a bunch of flowers. It can make him pick up the microphone during karaoke night at The Tav and take Ne-yo’s ‘Sexy Love’ for a spin. Love can keep
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA Margaret Wanjiru smoked her first cigarette with her campus boyfriend. They had just had sex. He sat by the open window in his boxers, taking a drag of the cigarette before handing it to Maggie. She smoked because she wanted to impress him. A steady wind was
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA The curse of the black leather jacket The muscly wide-nosed bouncer at Milan wants to see my ID before letting me into the club. I’m with my office mates, and today we’re celebrating the departure of a colleague. Everyone’s a bit sad she’s leaving, not least because
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA “No one understands the magnitude of fuckery that goes on when your mind is like, ‘Peace bitch, we’re not here anymore, you deal with your shit, ‘cause it’s too much, you’re too sad, you’re too anxious, us we’re leaving.’” One night in September 2018, Victoria Maina –
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA Mike Laria was out clubbing last night. He has a searing pain in his calf. He climbs the stairs leading up to Afrah Restaurant with difficulty. He clenches his jaw and grabs onto the railing, lifting his leg like an anchored mass. “Ugh, hii ndio ubaya ya
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