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Nobody Wins.

Before our “Kenyan winter” set in, I paid a lady to teach my son how to swim. Anybody who teaches children anything deserves to be paid even if they love it and are passionate about it because children can drive you up the wall.

The Plug

I met two interesting folk this past week. I say interesting because they both showed me their broken parts. (That sounds mad, but stay with me) And I like broken parts. I like to nose in there,

Love Visa

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.

The Duke of Gatanga

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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.

They Come With Cups

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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”.

The Art of Giving a F*k

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.