You know the story. On August 7, 1998, two Al Qaeda suicide bombers detonated a massive truck filled with explosives outside the US Embassy. At around the same time, at 10.30a.m., a similar bombing was happening in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. The Nairobi bombing recorded 213 deaths and thousands of
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Friday, late morning, I am at the Hindu Crematorium in Kariokor, right at the fingertips of Gikomba Market. My curiosity has brought me here, to this crematorium, to this place where every day is a ceremony for the dead to leave their Earth bodies behind. It is the end of
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As though I haven’t talked about my people enough already, here’s another eye-rolling reminder that I am married to a man whose moniker in my stories is GB. We have two children, Muna is seven and is in grade one. Njeeh is two, he’s now wearing Spiderman underwear and is
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I used to mentor a young man called Mike. Michael Njuguna Muthaka. Aka Mike. Mike was 21 when I met him in 2016 at our creative writing masterclass with Bikozulu. He was fresh-faced with the cheeks of a goldfish, cheeks you wanted to pinch. He had a mop of healthy hair
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It is 1a.m when I text my girls and my family group on WhatsApp: I am in labour. Headed to hosi. Pray for us. Today is September 4, 2020. A Friday. There is still a country-wide curfew here in Kenya, because of Covid-19 – Government said that everyone should be
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I bet you have never been to Kaplong. Hell, I bet you have not even heard about it before. I would not blame you, though – Kaplong is a sleepy little nondescript town that no one talks enough about. We were down there over Easter (me, my siblings, our personal
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