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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BY BETT KINYATTI My shrink told me I must create time to play. “What do you mean ‘time to play’?” I asked. She exhaled. “We’ve been conditioned to work, work, work. But if someone stops you and asks, ‘what are you working so hard for?’ you won’t know what to
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BY BETT KINYATTI I’m in Ruiru with my pal, Joan. It’s a Thursday. She and I are down here looking at houses for sale. There are pockets of ongoing development and some ready-for-sale units. All these units sit in gated communities – a gate with a uniformed Kale guard (of
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BY BETT KINYATTI Whenever someone on the street stops me and asks me that elusive question about passion, about whether it pays, whether us chicks have more chances at exploring its possibilities than dudes, whether someone’s age plays into the dynamics, I readily
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BY BETT KINYATTI My pal, Vicky, doesn’t believe in insurance. I asked her why and she said, “Insurance companies are a rip off. Especially the life policies.” I don’t think insurance companies are a rip off, Vicky. I don’t even think Kenyans
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