BY MIKE MUTHAKA I hear school is reopening next week. And I can bet my marbles the lec is going to ask what we’ve been doing over the holiday. She’ll probably walk in with one of her long dresses, briefcase in hand, and a thermos flask on the other. It’ll
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA I have a feeling he doesn’t like me too much. In his eyes I’m nothing but trouble. Each time he sees me I’m always in a flux. I say a cheery hello to him but he sees through my bullshit. He once stopped me at the door
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA She goes to Karura Forest on some Saturdays. She likes to walk along the narrow paths, with the sun rising grey and smoky behind her. She likes how the trees smell. She likes the serene silence and the clean air. Once in a while a group of
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA The new addition to my nightstand is a hardback. It’s called The Greatest Generation, by Tom Brokaw. It’s a collection of stories about the American men and women who fought in the war that brought down Hitler. I swear I can hear the American national anthem in
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA She wore black on the day of the funeral. She remembers looking out the window as they were driving down from Kisumu to Busia. It had rained. She remembers talking to Mom as they went along. Life had stopped. The sun had stopped. She still couldn’t believe
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA Her name was Salma. She wore lots of make-up, and she had a round face and big hips and fierce eyes that gave me a chill every time I looked at her. She was never in class on time, but a girlfriend would often book her a
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