Perhaps too quiet of a night for that big of a moon and this little of a girl to find each other. But resistance is futile, the moon has summoned you, feet leading you to that place where earth and water collide and the moon comes out to watch over them; stilling the ocean so the earth can kiss it just so.Read More
So you want to seduce her, you tell me? And you know that for a girl like her, flowers just won’t do. At least no ordinary dozen of roses, or those stargazer lilies mama used to love so much we’d have to pick them up on our way home from church every Sunday. No. A girl like her likes flowers like her; broody, awkward, strange.Read More
When they had laid in bed that first morning, the light catching them both with nothing to hide, Jamal had marveled at the smooth skin that hugged her breasts and curved her belly, unwinding itself in the limbs she wrapped around him. He had written the song then and though he varied its tune, the lyrics always remained the same.Read More
Sometime in the last two years, I lost myself. Like the spin cycle on a washer, I couldn’t hold onto anything stable that defined me. In 2004, I had arrived in the U.S., a fresh faced teenager and now I was nearing 30 in the midst of America’s reckoning with its systemic racism and my own grapple with identity as a Black Kenyan immigrant. The trauma of living in a Black body in America was becoming too much. Meanwhile, I had never felt more Black, yet significantly less Kenyan and less African—an unsettling thing when these are the things meant to define you.
Feature photo by Wild Bloom Photography
In our younger days, she had brought us spices and gold of the most exotic kind from China, India, Persia and beyond. Sealing them in boats carved out of trees older than us and wrapping them in bows set as sails. All along the coast—from North to South— we had sat at the turret of our windows awaiting the gifts she gingerly teased into her embrace as she carried them from her mouth to her womb.Read More
You ask how I am and how Nairobi is. As if to inquire what it is doing at any given moment. Or perhaps what its dreams and aspirations are; the books it is reading, who its friends are now, and most importantly who is sleeping in its bed.Read More
Write till your mind empties. Until you are moved, angered, stupefied, mystified. Until there is nothing to do but read it all and discover yourself and everyone else around you in your words. Then, write again.Read More