A child’s need to be chased, to hide and be found time and again, is why my father is the ghost stalking my dreams. When I was a child, hunting for where to hide and wait for my friends to seek, I found, inside an abandoned yard with an unfinished building, a hole in the …
"Nigerian men, fear them. They are wicked. Wicked! Especially Igbo men. They can be at home or at a friend's place drinking beer and talking nonsense, while their wives are out in the sun, farming. And when the women returned home tired, they would expect her to go to the kitchen in that state, while …
You grow up in this interior village in Kakamega, and the only time you hear the word coffee is when you’re playing the rope game of tea and coffee. Two girls swing the rope on each side, singing in Swahili: between tea and coffee which one do you choose?And you say tea every time as …
The phone rang. I picked it up at the first beep. “Waziri, how are you?” “Fine sir. And you?” “Have they called you?” “No sir.” “These people! Don’t worry, I will sort it out.” The conversation ended within thirty seconds. This was around noon on Tuesday, 23rd February 2016. I did not have to probe. …
