'Kaburi la Sahau Button'

By Wakini Kuria
Technology is yet to bring me the much needed 'delete' button for selected memories. You know, where you open Folder 'Mendula Oblongata', highlight a few files and delete them permanently. SHIFT + DEL + ENTER and Pap! You are over and done with. For life!

Memories of people, instances, circumstances and things that may have in the past injured your ego, hurt, embarrassed you and/or others but have refused to die with time.

Waves of remembrance keeps flickering with the slightest of provocation changing your moods instantly.

Suddenly at some memory you want to crawl under the bed and never to come out. You want to switch off the lights and stay in the darkness forever where nobody can see you. You want to hide behind masks in public, the sunglasses aren't enough cover and again the sun doesn't shine forever.

Another memory sees your face turn red in anger, clouding your face in near tears fists held tight ready to crack open some jaw or …

Don’t throw in the towel yet…


By Charity Kuria

She would call me. Beckon at me to come in secret. She would do me favours. I thought how generous! How lucky l was - just how lucky!

Amongst them all. She chose me. Picked me. To poke, torment, hate-love and severe.

Murio ni wiriagira- the special treats l got above everyone else. The telling-side glances l brushed off. They told so much. Yet was too blind to see. Lightly l took matters that l didnt discuss, this, with those who mattered - those who matter.

Money here, a bite there. I really felt the attention only to be severed later - majuto ni mjukuu huja baadaye.

The seed grew. Under her nose. The outcome manifested. The wasted resources. The wasted school time. The pain. Oh! My the pain!!!

Forgive and forget? Of course l will forgive but forget? That l wont - can't promise! For I forbade me to forget...

Screenshots of my rather ordinary campus life.

By Charity Kuria

First-year experience: Trying to fit in the wrong cliques, disappointments, the hate, meeting the right and wrong friends. Being rejected and finally finding my own footing.

Second-year experience: I now feel grown up enough especially now that I live in a hostel off-campus. I have my own crib and can hit the door frame at own leisure without questions of:

"where were you?" 

"You want to access the school premises?"

"Where is your school ID?" 

"Write your name there and contacts. You will be contacted in the morning!”

You go to bed horrified of facing tomorrow and if you missed dinner then you are done for and will sleep hungry counting the miiterero. Ha!

I have finally discovered the school Canvas Newspaper, Journalism Club, Debate Club, Peer and Counselling Club, Environmental Club and other social gatherings, oh! and the school radio studio. This is nice!

Third year. By now I am holding several leadership positions in the above-mentioned c…

Jimi the Dog by Meja Mwangi

By Charity Kuria

Jimi the Dog by Meja Mwangi remains my all-time favourite childhood reads. I remember the teacher walking in the classroom balancing novels in her arms. Excitement already aroused l shifted to the front centre desk nearest to hers. Back then, l was a chronic backbencher.

She started recording who took which book. I would crave my neck upwards trying to see the title and the thickness of the book she held in her hands from where l sat.

I wanted the book with most pages. So l sat there watching her dish out books until from the pile she picked what seemed to be the heaviest from amongst the stack and l quickly dashed forward before anyone else.
Looking from above her glasses perched on the bridge of the nose she seemed skeptical and voiced as much.

"Are you sure utasoma hiki kitabu?"


l affirmed nodding and waited patiently as she recorded the details on paper.
I went back to my backbench desk a happy girl. I immediately buried my nose…
By Charity Kuria
Today has been a rather boring and cold day in the office. There is internet breakdown that has rendered almost all offices there dysfunctional.
To top it all l spent the better part of the day alone. Fully charged phones, a desktop and a laptop but no internet! I think l know what depression is.
So well after 3pm, the boss walks in. On realising hakuna net he lets me off the day. The joy l feel is almost tangible.
"You going to Limuru? Twende"

That's a free ride right there! Behold l do a small jig-dance. Quickly l reach for my small porch from the laptop bag l had carried in the morning slapping shut the laptop leaving it on the desk. Grabbing the office key, l lock up in seconds and mimi huyo walking beside him to his car.

On the way, we stop to say hi to a mheshimiwa seated comfortably on a sofa in the lounge. She is on phone so we don't stay.
At the car park, his car front passenger door is open and with feet dangling outside is this short and plump…

Strange breed of men!

By Charity Kuria
The other evening l'm stepping out of Kamindi Stores, my niece doesn’t fancy my going home without goodies. My! That kid is growing faster than fast. Already, she is showing possible threats of beating me in height very soon and she is barely ten. OMG!

So I walk out obediently carrying my ticket to her good books and being watchful of cars buzzing away and driving into the parking lot outside the stores. 

This middle-aged guy files himself in front of me, walking between the small space left between the parked vehicles and the moving vehicles on the road. I’m literally behind him and suddenly from his right foot beneath his trousers rolls out a 20 bob coin that lands on my feet. 

I stop to let him pick it and realising that it came from his torn pockets. I tell him’ Mend that hole’
To which he laughs and retorts
‘That’s my wife’s duty!’

With finality…well, such are men… then he continues " She is the one who washes them so she will see to it!"
So we walk along t…