Mc Opondo smoked his first cigarette at 15-years of age, behind a block of toilets at Kakamega School. He wasn’t a brilliant student, Mc Opondo. Neither was he particularly sporty. He didn’t play rugby because he didn’t possess the quintessential big thighs of Kakamega School boys who played rugby.
When David Kariuki was leaving his former workplace in 2002 he told Betty Wekesa, who also worked in the advertising department, “By the way, you, one day I will marry you.” Betty laughed out loud.
Boniface Mwangi swings off the road and parks outside a bland commercial building, one of the many that dot the roadside. A woman peers from the grill opening of one of the kiosks. The name of the kiosk is “Fruits”.
My class five teacher was called Weje. As the name might suggest she wasn’t really a teacher who smiled. You know the phrase, “to put fear of the Lord”? It was meant to be “to put the fear of Weje.” You wouldn’t describe Weje’s style of discipline as subtle.
There are houses you go to and you know they are just houses with no aspirations to being anything but a place where humans live. It doesn’t matter how palatial or expensively adorned or decorated they are.
How tough it must be to grow up in the age of the internet. To be a man in it. To form ideals in it. To lose yourself in it, find yourself in it and be yourself in it.