My Blog
the dead are born every day
Life, for the dead, is within reach of the marble headstones, the comfort in sleeping in friendly proximity to the living.
It’s Us, not Them
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...
Mine was an ordinary dad, but his influence was great
What do we owe our parents? Do we owe them more than what they gave us? If we’ve given them a thousand chances to be better for us, do we give them one more?
How To Bury a Comrade
The villagers are made puny by the backdrop of stoicism in the face of the comrades, which loom like colossi and then by the event itself. It’s a kamikaze mission. A comrade’s death is a cenotaph, buried deep in the unmarked graves of our hearts.
Nairobi, Nairoberry, KaNairo
If you find yourself 1-v-1 with an avocado and say, “Hii nitakula kesho.” You have already lost that war.
It’s Time to talk about Kunyonga Monkey in Men
Porn is like potato chips. They may taste good, but will never fully nourish you and is not sustainable as a diet. Sex without intimacy is just empty calories.
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