Have you been to Kericho with those squatty but quaint tea worker’s houses on the hill. The endless greenery with rolling hills and Kalenjin hawkers with their checked jackets selling tea and roast maize and trucks that bellow and …
A few weeks ago I wrote about showing up at the Pearly Gates and God asking you what you did with your talents and you drawing a blank. Then I got an email from a 48-year old lady, “a …
The men’s changing room at Muthaiga Golf Club smells like an ancient piggy bank made of wood. Because life continues to surprise me, I find myself standing at their urinal, taking a piss. Behind me two caucasian chaps are …
Maybe out of my subtle intimidation or just pure strength of character, Joe Black decided to write something about his writer’s block, as he calls it. It’s vintage Joe; wonderful prose, scintillating sentences that rise out of paragraphs like …
I reached out to Joe Black. Remember him, the prodigy boy from the slums of Kitui who came here with his dazzle and muzzled his way into your hearts with his lively prose? I said, …
