The keyboard and I have an abusive relationship, it’s toxic and the toxicity surprisingly comes from […]
The phone is our cybernetic extension, quips one of the oddly intriguing humans I follow out there. Elon Musk, if we are meeting for the first time.
Uuuuuh scary huh? Hahaha I know.. I know, it's taboo to even think about it let alone put together organized thoughts and pen er….. type them down.
Josphat finished campus in 2011 at a reputable institution in the country's capital. Let us not mention any names they (Institutions) are sensitive nowadays
Capital Fm without Chris Kirubi feels different, slaps some typa way. It took me a while but eventually during a recent Friday flight, one of the longest serving DJ segments on any show by DJ Adrian, I finally put a scratch….er I mean a finger to it (haha)
Growing up and schooling in Butere - Sabatia was not all that fascinating, not with neighboring schools with names like Eshitsitswi, Enyenyesi, Eshinamwenyuli, Ebuchenya, Eshibanga and my very own Ebukolwe. I see folks joke on the interwebs how the name of the school was a contributing factor in performances, well not funny guys, folks in Emuyundi primary do not like that joke at all! Now in a bid to make the names a bit palatable, the prefix E would be dropped like a hot Potato.
I came to Bungoma roughly eight years ago, the intriguing bit being the fact that I only knew my friend from Campus, host and now business partner to date.
As the legend goes, a father once sent the son to the wisest man in the land. The objective? To teach the young lad the meaning of life. Now the young fella who I am going to call Mark was pleasantly surprised that the wise man lived in a palatial residence and that he hosted on the regular rich merchants and dignitaries from across the land. The place was lit! A reference Mark would probably have used if he lived in our times. Food was in plenty, booze on the free flow and there were generally good vibes.
Coco is a 2017 Pixar animation that enlightened me on matters the afterlife and life in general. It gravitates around the exploits of 12-year-old Miguel, who, despite a heavy-handed ban on music by his grandma in the family, still has the insatiable thirst to play the guitar and sing. During a night to honor the memory of the dead (dias de muertos), Miguel finds himself in the technicolor world of the dead.
My mother worked as a secretary in Siaya, the pay not all that and the proverbial ends would soon refuse to meet. Caught between a baby daddy who wouldn’t chip in and her meagre wages, her only option was to drop me off to her mother. Life in Kisiwa was hard, meals not assured, school fees almost impossible to raise.