BY FLORENCE BETT I suspect that Muna doesn’t like me very much now. It’s absurd, I know. But she’s refused to refer to me as ‘Mummy’ or call me by anything that even mimics a real word. The only way she catches my attention is by
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BY FLORENCE BETT After what feels like house arrest since the State of Emergency, you finally hit the nightclub. Your baby is a year and three months now. Which means she’s not a
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BY FLORENCE BETT My nanny split. Two weeks into the New Year, on a Sunday evening, around the time she should have been making her way back home after her day off, she sent me a long text. “Nimeona sitaendelea na kazi…” it began. I let out a long deflating
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BY FLORENCE BETT The plan for Muna’s hair was to have no plan, really. I simply wanted to maintain the mohawk she was born with. (Hang on. Is the right word for it ‘mohawk’? Give me a sec I look it up. I’ll be back in a jiff, don’t leave,
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