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My life in crime…

Posted on 43 7

I have a cousin, let’s call him Farouk. He’s about 5’6’’, slim, chocolate. Farouk is a people’s person. He is the kind of guy who gets along with anyone! The life of the party.

Images from Mwingi

Posted on 4

These kids were minding there own business walking from school and yakking on about school stuff. No they weren’t running away from me, they were running because I showed them the cover of Nation which had the picture of Onyancha,

Goat writer…not to be confused with a ghost writer.

I’m in Mwingi, Eastern Kenya. I’m not here as a part of a fancy caucus to evaluate poverty. I’m not en route to Garissa town, up the road. I’m certainly not here for holiday either…obviously.

The hardest part.

Posted on 15 3

My grandma doesn’t wait for Kenya to turn 47. She doesn’t say goodbye either. She just checks out. She dies. Her heart halts shortly after 3pm on the eve of Madaraka day. Cardiac arrest,

A red-eyed amoebic

Posted on 22 7

“Forgive me father, it’s been one week since my last blog.”

“That’s okay son, what seems to be the problem today?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Shouldn’t you be worrying about writing instead?”

“No.

Bite me!

Posted on 22 4

Of course I’m scared.

I’m scared because I’m human. I’m scared because I don’t know this woman even though she is supposed to be a good at it. Right. I hear that a lot but word on the grapevine is normally worth squat,