My doorbell rings. I open the door to find a tall, good-looking boy standing there. He stands cockily with his legs apart – his weight resting firmly and equally on both long limbs. He’s got big,
Douglas wakes up and gets onto his beloved motorbike. It’s a small Yamaha. He leans his bike on its stand at the office parking slot at about 8am, stops to chat briefly with the sunny guard at Lonrho East Africa on Uhuru Highway,
How things have changed since 1987. I suspect 1987 probably looks at 2017 and covers its mouth in fascination, envy or even horror. In the last writing masterclass I invited Oyunga and during his talk he used the word “monzo”,
I don’t think it is the weak who stay in toxic marriages, I think it’s actually the strong ones who do. The strong only leave when they have no more strength left, no more will.