MURENONI KANGOGO

I am so horrible a dancer that I don’t normally define my dancing as ‘dancing’ (if at all it qualifies to be termed as such) but rather as a ‘moving’. While others go to clubs to sing and dance to hip-hop songs or or others attend weddings to sing and dance or even others sing and dance to circumcision songs, I go to church to sing and ‘move’. So I pass by this church this Sunday and hear of a pastor praying hard. Whether he was praying or crying, I can’t tell as instead of pausing to take a breathe after commas, this nigger produced a certain sound that resembled that of someone with a hiccup. He thus literally sounded like a baby who has spent several hours crying and exhausted and the loudest ‘cry’ he can afford is that of a hiccup. I busied myself with my journey cursing the pastor. My curses were however short-lived and upto now I am sure they didn’t go anywhere beyond my nose as I remembered one day I also cried in church like a hungry breast-feeding baby-gir...

  It’s 12.03am on the 3 rd of March and, notwithstanding the fact that last evening I went to bed as early as 8 on the Pm, sleep has refused to come near me. I am here asking myself deep questions and I am receiving no concrete answers: ‘Am I going mad?’ ‘I think so...’ These are questions I am asking and answering them myself: ‘Why not see a psychiatrist tomorrow then?’ ‘I will see into that...’ That word “psychiatrist” got into my head and rang a bell then I remembered when, still a student, I one day paid a visit to that university psychiatrist going by the name Dr. Awiti, or was it Owiti?. Something like that. This wasn’t any ordinary meeting as I had previously come but had found him engaged and so we had to set a fresh date. Tuesday, at 11am we settled.   Tuesday 11am came by and I get into his cubicle office. He welcomes and offers me a seat, then those normal pleasantries from doctors followed. I stated my purpose of visit,...

It is one of those random stories you hear and listen to – if you have time – when fate leads you into the interiors of Uasin Gishu County. It so happens that a neighbour was moving out and had hired some local folks to load his truck. Unless you’re a nincompoop and you’re one who was brought up poorly, courtesy will demand that you join and help the guys; and since I’m not a nincompoop and I am one who was brought up properly, I joined the fray. Experience, if not history, will remind you that Nandis and politics are inseparable. These guys love politics more than the way a Maasai warrior loves his cows and even more than the way an uncircumcised, Pokot bandit loves his gun. Before long, they were on Jackson Kibor’s case, (the elderly man who recently divorced his wife). It is important herein to note that this controversial oligarch is feared in these parts of the world – even the Deputy President is no match for him. (And this is true, according to my talkative friend...