Something about Saturdays that I love. The looseness of it all, the unaffected air that hangs. Saturdays is the day the lord has chosen. If Saturday was a person it would be like Toni Braxton licking an ice-cream.
Every guy has a private moment. A time when they plunge into themselves and everything fades to grey. Some people have that moment in the car, sitting in traffic with that faraway look. Some have it in a bar,
It’s freakin’ cold. I’m seated on a metallic chair, those ugly silver chairs at the airport. I have over an hour to my flight. I hate waiting, so to kill time I have decided to write something senseless and idle,
Last weekend. The Lewa Marathon, location? Somewhere in the belly of Isiolo. I travelled down in a vanful of Safaricom customer service executives. Yes, I believe that’s how one of them introduced themselves;
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.