Category: Manhood

My dad wants us to have coffee. Coffee for my dad is code for, “I want you to give me a status update of where your life is

And then I was flat broke, seated in a matatu going fifty miles an hour towards Kangema, where my dad was born, where my grandfather, the one I’m

I talk with him sometimes. He’s called Kim, he’s a cook. I would not call them conversations. They are not solid. They are scattered, unformed niceties that any

I’m having an impromptu beer at a club in the city. I haven’t indulged in the pleasures of the bottle in a while. I am not big on

Bear with me, Mon-cheri. I am trying to understand myself better. Who I’m I? Why are things the way they are? The other day I heard my dad

I remember her nails; they were the most distinct feature about her. You couldn’t have guessed they were acrylic because they sat on the tips of her fingers

Remember the first time we met? It was in that café along Banda Street, you were in a cream frock and I had a cold yet for some

I have been rejected three times this week by the fairer gender. The first one was in a petrol station. She was in newly done braids. Newly done