At 4 a.m on Sunday morning, I found myself with Mutua Matheka at DXB Airport, connecting to Stockholm, and with two hours to kill. So we wandered about the airport, chasing deep vein thrombosis and passing people slumped on the carpet sleeping with their mouths open.
From the air, South Sudan looks like a decrepit village rising into a city. Dusty roads wind around red, green and blue roofed buildings. There are clusters of huts. You can count the tarmacked roads from the air.
Maina Kageni is a tortoise. That’s the analogy he chose to chicken out of a sky dive last weekend. He said he’s a tortoise because tortoises live for hundred-plus years. They live for hundred-plus years because they don’t go jumping off planes.
by Helen Langat
You know how when you are starting on a road trip everything is tight? It’s Friday morning of that long weekend and you are worried about the time,
There is a massive red crab moving at the entrance to a seafood restaurant. Across the street, a large Scandinavian man with blond flowy hair is stripping down to his blue briefs to try on jeans from a roadside clothes vendor.
I have one reader from Papua New Guinea. I know this because Google Analytics told me so. I used to see him last month, one lone reader from a random nondescript country. Who would have thought?