I was 15 when I next saw her. I was a young teenager with at least three prominent pimples on his skinny face at any one time. A mass of hormones and confusion. She came to visit on a cold Saturday morning, typical of the month of June in the Kijabe escarpment; a time when the weather seems largely undecided.
Category Archives: Musings
I attended a funeral when I was about six years old. The younger sister of my classmate, Martin, fell in a well and drowned. On the day of the funeral, dozens of young boys and girls trooped to the nearby Catholic Church. We were dressed in our signature khaki shorts and shirts, and blue sweaters. The girls wore blue dresses and pink blouses.
The truth is, the scream escaped from me the way a fart escaped when I was slapped by the deputy head teacher in high school. One minute I was ruler of my voice box but the next I was screaming like a scared little girl.
Nobody I know has ever seen cats fuck. Once, as a child, I thought I saw our pet cat at it with a stray but it ‘all happened so fast’ I am unsure whether it wasn’t a product of my at times hyperactive imagination. It seems a phenomenon only known to nature and the participating felines.
The man laughs maniacally as he hits the keyboard and stares at the screen. He is killing them and he loves it, or rather, he cant control himself. The urges. They will never catch him, he kills as he wills, and they can do nothing about it. They are born when he says they are born, and they die when his whims desire. Except for that wretched editor. He tricks them into situations where they are sure to die, dangling on a cliff begging for dear life. They are his small ant farm.
If you have 1.3 billion shillings and an interest in the hospitality industry, you can buy prime undeveloped land in the heart of a marine national park, a national reserve listed as a protected site. A Mr. Alessandro Torriani placed an ad offering 53.00 Acres of undeveloped prime land in the Kisite-Mpunguti Marine National Park for Kshs. 1.38 billion ($16, 000, 000).
Once I regained my composure, I realized that there is nothing like the moment you realise something you value is gone.
It is only befitting that the deadline for voter registration should be marred by torrential rains. The argument in recent days, all over the news and prime-time television, on radio, driven by celebrities and all people of note [sic!] has been that all good Kenyans of age, should register to vote.