BY MIKE MUTHAKA By and by, I’m beginning to notice the tinge of yearning I get whenever I see someone on a motorbike. I remain aware of the desire I have to own a bike. And I’m not talking about those ubiquitous beat-up looking boda bodas you see running around
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BY FLORENCE BETT I thought about Nyambura Thuo for several moments of several days before we met. About why she chose to make shoes. I thought about her so much it bordered on unhealthy. Thinking while going through my day, it was as if I were hypnotized or in a
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA Back in high school, you simply didn’t live until you went for an inter-school competition. A funky, they called it. Most of these funkys were sports-oriented, and I wasn’t into sports. Whenever I tell my friends that I never went to any funky
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BY FLORENCE BETT Out of the entr’acte between sunset and darkness, when most of Nairobi is hunkered between the inevitable mature of what-now to what-next, I slink into the back seat of an Uber. It’s a Thursday, and I’m headed to Century Cinemax at the Junction on Ngong Road to
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA Growing up, we had a small red Fiat. It fit perfectly in our stonewalled compound, and whenever I wasn’t watching cartoons I would be found inside the car, with my tiny hands outstretched to hold both sides of the wheel and my short legs failing to reach
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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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