Wings to Freedom [by Carolyne Mutisya]

Nakola held down her 10 year old flowered patched dress as the gushing wind threatened to reveal her chalky thighs. Her left hand gripped the hem of her dress so tightly that she could feel the veins on her palms suffocate from the pressure. She liked it. It was her rehearsal for how she would [read more…]

Ms. Kairu [by Janet Wahu]

Mama and I are gossiping Ms. Kairu over sizzling onions, She spits in the sink when I recreate the Church scene: yellow thighs slightly parted in the front pew culminating in black knees, I do not mention the Pastor’s gaze, She does not have to but she points out the irony in her name, By [read more…]

Relatable African Literature: A look into ‘The Last Villains of Molo’ – Kinyanjui Kombani [by Sheena Mpungu]

Somewhere in the middle of studies for my undergraduate degree, I took a course in Introduction to Literature. I was excited by the prospect of getting closer to what I really enjoyed: the written word. We were a small class, I remember. Must have just made the quorum. Quorum. A word that gained significant meaning [read more…]

My Safe Space [by Magdaline Nyambura]

I am really excited that I will be voting for the first time, come 8th August. For the first time, my voice will be heard and count in determining who will be the president for the next five years. However, I am troubled. I am unsure of the state of the nation after 8th August. [read more…]

23 [by Melodious Nyanchama]

At 23 years of age, I am be deemed ready for marriage, to take a job offer, to stop eating that paper that usually encases a queen cake and a few other trivial things like fixing Ugali that is hard enough for Wafula to enjoy. Except that I am not ready for any of those. [read more…]

Doctor Strange: [A Movie Review by Sheena Mpungu]

Mind over matter. Isn’t that how the saying goes? When a highly accomplished and arrogant neurosurgeon severely damages his hands in a car accident, he believes his life is over. I must point out that the fatal accident was caused by his own carelessness. However, I suppose that’s beside the point. The neurosurgeon, Doctor Stephen [read more…]

Now Here We Are [by Hinga Mwonjoria]

It would have been easier for all of us if you had typed that it will be your death day. I wouldn’t have attended your event and stabbed your neck in rage. The mob wouldn’t have killed me too. If only you had typed the truth. But instead, you typed that it will be your [read more…]

Gym Chronicles [by Sarah Mwangi]

This tall, lean guy in grey draw-string pants and a blue hoodie stands hesitantly at the entrance, looks about then walks into the room. Someone is changing songs on the music system, several are chatting while others lounge lazily on the floor. Only one is stretching, jogging – warming up for the session. Faded, oversize [read more…]

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