by Eddy Ashioya | Aug 16, 2024 | Uncategorized
The dead are born every day. I know because I am at the Langata Cemetery. There are more fresh graves today. The mud is still virgin, the ground thick and warm and damp and smells like formalin and wet dirt. A fig tree, the modest mistress of solitude, sits alone...
by Eddy Ashioya | Apr 12, 2023 | Chinedu Tales
7. Akili mjini, nguvu kijijini. Tack that on your walls—and tattooed in your brain. 12. Nairobi is an expensive city—14th overall in Africa. You wake up hivi and KSh. 2,000 is gone. That is the rate to wake up in this city. Nairobi is a designer label sewn into a...
by Eddy Ashioya | Mar 17, 2023 | Chinedu Tales
Jesus has always been box-office. You can tell by how the church, and in extension, religious organisations have been serving popcornentertainment by falling over themselves, angling to frolic in the corridors of power—from mashinani tomajuu. For a cleric, the hottest...
by Eddy Ashioya | Mar 12, 2025 | Uncategorized
A couple sits across me. Male and female. She is a sylph in a sundress, and from how high she is, I can tell half her height is her ass. She’s an octoroon this one, put here by Jehovah to test me. I prefer my women thin and dry like broomsticks but this one was ample...
by Eddy Ashioya | Mar 5, 2025 | Uncategorized
1. This is how I remember it. Walking in town. Earbuds plugged in. I feel like Sakaja after I have dumped trash at someone’s door. That will show them! So this is what it feels like to be a power bottom? I am in a good mood. Someone stops me, but this is Nairobi so I...
by Eddy Ashioya | Mar 4, 2025 | Uncategorized
TukTuks and bodabodas like a line of maniac safari ants. Wazees in kanzus and taqiyah, ladies in buibuis and younger ones in deras. Boys in football jerseys—Manchester United red; Chelsea, blue; Arsenal red and white. It’s a pastiche of red and blue, like police...
by Eddy Ashioya | Jan 9, 2025 | Chinedu Tales
There was a shylock who ran the economy of the village, and if your parents needed quick cash, they’d swap something in the house for it. We called him Muindi Mweusi because those days only Indians had money. There was always a calculated correctness in him that I...
by Eddy Ashioya | Dec 6, 2024 | Uncategorized
To get to Ongata Rongai, you board those decrepit buses at Railways. The route is 125. Fare could be anything between 50 bob and 120 bob, depending on the mood of the conductor, the rain or the number of traffic officers on the road. If you are in a different tax...
by Eddy Ashioya | Nov 8, 2024 | Chinedu Tales
Shyly the girl jumps into the pool. She’s teaching me how to swim, but I am learning how to leave. This falls on the wrong side of my pleasure principle. This won’t work. The swimming, and the relationship. She’s a good girl. The kind of girl God gives you young so...
by Eddy Ashioya | Sep 13, 2024 | Chinedu Tales
There is a boy next to me making love to his Smirnoff Ice. Smirnoff Ice tastes like expired antibiotics, but I don’t tell him that. A girl and her lover make way to ask for a matchbox. They reek of Dunhill cigarettes. I haven’t smoked in years mostly cause I end up...
by Eddy Ashioya | Jul 19, 2024 | Chinedu Tales
It was ten to 11 PM when the lights went out. Close your eyes. Yes, that kind of darkness. Like that Kenya Power rogue monkey had cut off power. A cough here. A whistle there. A glass shattering. The parabola of tension. The air was heavy, as if there were too much of...
by Eddy Ashioya | Jul 9, 2024 | People
Nobody needs to tell me, but I know when Mother’s Day is approaching. I usually have an Instagram-worthy caption that will accompany the flattering photo I post of my mother when she was a jeune fille, a young lass, before I destroyed her mental health with the kind...
