Smells of Sunday

BY MIKE MUTHAKA When I think about Sundays as a kid, it’s the smell of Dad’s cologne that springs to mind. It was a red bottle of Old Spice and the sweet sporty scent would

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Happy Hour… And some Weed

BY MIKE MUTHAKA Let’s call him Tom. He’s in his first year in my campus and has the longest legs you’ve ever seen on a boy. He comes from Burundi, and

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Newborns and Nightgowns

BY MIKE MUTHAKA The cloud-stitched sky was loosening and the Sun sliding into view. Bright light struck the earth as the traffic crawled by, the sound of drilling pierced the air. Slow down, men at work. A roller truck

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Her Majesty

BY MIKE MUTHAKA I saw her three times. The first, I was standing under the shade of a kiosk sipping from a bottle of Keringet water. It was a hot day and I was looking at a fruit vendor

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