Samwana

I still remember that dark Tuesday. 5.42 am was the time. I received a call from my younger uncle, Jamo. “Jomba tulijaribu lakini Mungu alikua na mpango wake.Mjomba wako Wanjala ametuwacha.” Since then, I have hated Tuesdays. The brown varnished casket shone under the midday sun. It bore the scent of wet paint, as does most new coffins. The man therein, pinned helplessly by the hands of death, was my beloved. Someone I had desperately loved in life. I didn't know, whether I loved or pitied him in death.  For a long time, I stood, starring at his face. The skin had turned ashy, with little droplets of sweat. Curtained behind his delicately shut eyelids, were big, innocent eyeballs. His nose still stood, sharp. Why couldn't they breathe, at least one last time, for me? His lips were still alive. Full as they had been, in the many years we had known each other... All these while, I was convinced my uncle was asleep. I knew he would wake up, in due time... Then,...

Emma and I had a connection that spanned years, always dancing around the edges of our lives but never quite aligning. The day she agreed to move in with me marked the beginning of a new chapter, one that I had long dreamed of.   We had known each other since primary school, when she first arrived at my school in Class Five. Emma was beautiful, with her dark skin and infectious smile. Everyone loved her. She was the daughter of Mr. W.W, our headteacher, but her charm wasn’t just in her looks; she had a radiant joy that made her stand out, even among the girls in our school.   I was drawn to her from the start. Before I could confess my feelings, though, I was transferred to another school, and our paths began to diverge. There were no cell phones or easy ways to stay in touch, and life took us in different directions. Emma stayed with her brother Benjamin and her stepmother, but you wouldn’t know it - she was always cheerful and full of life.   Years passed, a...

Webuye town, nestled by the cascading falls of the Nzoia River, was a place where the past and present coexisted in a delicate dance. The air was always filled with the scent of freshly tilled earth and the distant hum of the paper mill. For many, Webuye was just a dot on the map of Kenya, but for me, it was the world. Growing up in Webuye meant a life rich with tradition yet touched by the inevitable wave of modernity. I spent my days between school,church, chores, and exploring the town’s hidden corners. I had two close friends, John and Jerry, who shared my thirst for adventure. Together, we formed a trio that was inseparable, bound by the common thread of dreams and mischief.

My mother, a staunch Catholic, was the cornerstone of our family’s faith and values. Her unwavering devotion to her religion shaped our daily lives and provided a foundation of love, discipline, and compassion that carried us through both the joys and challenges of life. Every morning, she would rise before dawn to say her prayers, her soft whispers a familiar sound that gently nudged us awake. The rosary beads slipped through her fingers with practiced ease, each bead a testament to her dedication. Her faith was not just a private practice but a living, breathing part of our household. Sundays were special in our home. The scent of freshly baked pancakes mingled with the aroma of incense as my mother prepared for Mass. She dressed with care, her modest, elegant attire reflecting the solemnity of the occasion. As we walked to church, her hand firmly holding mine, I felt a sense of peace and purpose, knowing that this weekly ritual was a part of something much larger than ourselves. Aft...

That easy Saturday you'd wake me up by pulling my beads.You'd follow me everywhere in the house as if I'd run away from you.You'd cry at the bathroom door as I take a shower.You won't even let me brush my teeth in peace you had to follow and imitate daddy.No chills as dad was in control even as mum was out for work.Fully dressed in heavy clothes complete with socks and Marvin,you were safe from the July cold in Nairobi. I was dressed in a pair of my navy blue shorts and a t-shirt.I know this was an assurance that daddy will be indoors all day and won't leave you.Breakfast is served by aunty.You leave your sweetly prepared uji and opt for my sugarless tea.Its not sweet at all but you decide to have what daddy has because daddy is never wrong.You reach for the remote control and randomly press.The channel shows your favorite KCB cub account advert.That is your favorite I know.I had even requested uncle Evans who works at KCB to send me so that i wo...