Her virginity was ripped away from her, gruesomely and gut – churningly. No one but her mother had known about it. For eleven years, the heart-rending memories silhouetted her every move. How he had come to her room, tore apart her dress, slapped her when she tried to fight back, pinned her against her bed and squeezed his way in, her cries for help echoing against his sickening moans of pleasure. When she came to, she was lying on her mother’s bed. Her mother was in tears. She told her how sorry she was for bringing that man into their lives. She told her of her step – father’s illegal narcotics business and how the money had supported them ever since her daddy died and her mother started seeing this man. She told her reporting the matter would open a web of police investigations that would tie the two of them as accomplices and possibly land them in jail. She convinced her to not say a word to anyone. She packed two bags, one for each one of them, and they drove away, five hundred miles north of the little town of Kisauni, Mombasa County. They settled in Kasarani and […]

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She is her father’s look – alike. She has his aquiline nose, pouty lips and descending hairline. Her short stature and chocolate perplexion are the only features she took after her mother. She is a constant reminder of her father to the people who knew him. Her mother had told her that he died in a road accident when she was three, twenty years ago. As she grew older, she had pestered her mother to take her to his grave but her mother dismissed the idea. ‘It will bring more pain than relief,’ she said. Kristin never brought it up again. When she joined State House Girls, she carried his passport photo and pinned it on the inside of her locker. She would look at his grinning face every day and smile back at him. She believed he was watching over her from wherever he was. During the school visiting days, her friends would buzz her ears with stories about their fathers. ‘My dad does not even know how to shop. He brought me Dettol Cool soap instead of Dettol Even tone,’ one would grumble. ‘Lucky you. My dad only brought a newspaper!’ another would chime. ‘Mine came late and […]

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They called themselves The Backpackers. A clique of friends who had maintained close contact since their campus days. Two gents and three ladies. Initially, they were six. Then sometime in their second year of college, Wanjeri fell out with Jaymo after their Rachael and Ross relationship went sour. (If you were born just the other day, Rachael and Ross are friends cum lovers from a 90s sitcom called Friends.) So Wanjeri had that kind of ego that makes you choose new friends after one of your old friends dumps you. Who can judge her? I would do the same. The others always made fun of Jaymo and his Wanjeri connection. They blamed him for ruining the balance in the group since they were now three ladies and two gentlemen. But this fallout with Wanjeri kind of tightened the bond around them. They came up with this little rule that no member of the group would do it with another member of the group. They were strictly platonic friends. They became inseparable and always had each other’s backs. When Kwamboka’s mother passed on in their third year of college, Mike, Jaymo, Shiko and Kui put together their little savings, rented out a small Probox […]

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