Zurikiki is a blog about memories. Zuri– what I intend to name my daughter, and Kiki, that hero- boy who could take on our childhood bully, Tony, anytime and win.

Zurikiki is a journey of self-discovery. A journey of redemption and healing from past hurts. A journey of flaws and imperfections from which something pure occasionally emanates from. A journey of laughter and tears.

Zurikiki is about baring the soul and experiencing with art; words, notes, etc. while unfettered to the demands of an unyielding editor.

Zurikiki is about answering to the urges of the inner child when everything was possible. Thus I can sing even though the music teacher said I was hopeless; I can draw even if I am a wreck in that department; and I can dance even though my bones creak like an old lorry going uphill.

Zurikiki is about Ibra, Shiku, Coast… places and people who have made me who I am today. It’s an appreciation of the beautiful land that we call Kenya for the opportunities and the stories she has bequeathed to me thus far.

Ultimately, Zurikiki is about freedom.


Critique, enjoy and share.


“Hi guys. Have you heard the news? Mandela is dead?” Ronaldo dropped the shocker on us. The year was 1998, a week after the August bomb blast in Nairobi Kenya. It really was a bad month for us. See, when the news of the bombing was announced on the radio, 1pm news bulletin, Essendi’s mother

The ward manager (or how get elected and re-elected)

Sometimes fate conspires to thrust an ordinary mortal into the limelight. Perhaps, gifting him fortune, fame or ignominy. Such a mortal was Jackson Kizengwe. Before his fame, Jackson Kizengwe was just another face in the sea of humanity that is Plot Kijiji. This Plot Kijiji, a series of low-cost one- and two-roomed iron sheets shacks.

The jealous kind

So, we are an item. Casually, just like that. See, I have moved into this new neighbourhood. Felt like I was suffocating in my old one – same old, same old. Same old people. Same old stories. Same old happenings. I really needed to inject some vitality in my life in the form of new

A 32” inch story

This story begins on a Friday. To be precise, the Friday just before Jamhuri Day on Monday. You know how it goes; a lazy day at the office, prepping up for the coming Christmas holidays…. The year has moved so fast, but then again, it is refusing to end. So, you resist a colleague’s offer

Who is the mad man?

Who is the mad man? Is he that eats from trash cans? He that devours that which we refuse? He that talks to self, and in doing so does no strife cause? Who is the mad man? Is he that eats rivers and forests He that devours that which we must use He that talks

Things that were

Some nights when the moon speckles And some nights when the stars sparkle And thieves prowl, the owl hoots And crickets chirp, cockroaches scuttle I wake up with a fervour, or still in bed Pining for things, things long gone Pining for things that were. Of Sandra’s love, young and naïve A loving, for love’s

My prayer for 2018

My prayer for 2018 is to be small Whether in adversity or in plenty Knowing that I am but a speckle Serving time on earth at His pleasure. My prayer for 2018 is to be strong May health and fortitude be mine May I wear a smile day and night For knowing how blessed I

Surviving hate

The first rule of surviving hate Is to be like hate, speaking like hate Louder and longer Own the hate and survive it. To survive hate, you must be ready To lose your conscious and your mind Your desires and your will Embrace hate as a brother. And as the hate gnaws at your soul

Melancholy: The Album, 2

Melancholy: The Album Part 2: Thinking out loud They say that there is light at the end, at the end of the tunnel Yet, at my end, at my end of the tunnel, there is no light And it feels as though my tunnel, my tunnel is a funnel That sucks in more and more

Melancholy: The Album

Part 1: I am not alright I am sinking. How do I know? Purple mug. A spoon. Sugar; refined white sugar. I am lazing on the sofa, watching the Madaraka Day celebrations. Specifically, I am waiting for Baba’s turn to speak. Not that I voted for him – I could have, and I wanted to,

Friends and relatives

Friends and relatives It is Christmas; that time of the year devoted to friends and relatives. Memories galore: Boney M and them carols, Atta Mark and Cowboy chapatis, plums and sherries (the yellow plums), new clothes, slaughtering a cock… else, going to upcountry to catch up with relatives and the obligatory goat festival at grandpa’s

3E vs 3S: Petty Nairobi politics

As we count down to August 8th, 2017 when Kenyans vote en masse, Nairobi is split right down in the middle. On the red corner is the youthful and flashy Mike Sonko and his troops, while on the blue corner (more of orange, really) is the stoic Evans Kidero and his brigade. In short, 3E

Wanjohi: The Drinkard

THE DRINKARD Characters Wanjohi: A perpetual drinkard/drunkard Wacuka: His beautiful wife Rev. Githingithia: Pastor of the Revived and Reformed Fimbo ya Kumchapa Shetani Church of Latter Day Prophets of East Africa i.e. RAS CLOPEA Dr. Mashida Mingi: A medicine man from Dar-es-Salaam, Tanzania Prof. Hellen Irving: A marriage counsellor, Ph.D. Wa Mucene: Wacuka’s bosom friend


  WAHUSIKA Kombo : Waziri wa Kawi, Mhoihoi   Bi Ugomvi : Mkewe Kombo, Mhoihoi   Mjuaji : Binamuye Kombo   Bw. Tembo : Mzee wa Kijiji   Bi. Fitina : Mkewe Tembo   Msomi : Mwanawe Kombo   Fukara : Mwanawe Mjuaji   Jadi Mwalimu (J.M.) : Aliyekuwa mwalimu wa fasihi wa Msomi na

Brothers, not

Appearances are deceiving. For me it goes something like this: That I know a fellow for a month or a year, then one day, they gasp, “Haiya, I thought you were from western!” when they hear me talking in Kikuyu. Then I laugh it off and jest that I really should ask my mother who

Charity begins not at home

A whiff of sewage. A strong whiff of raw sewage is what hits you as you go past the junction of Suna Road and Joseph Kangethe Road- a few metres off what was formerly the Nairobi Winners Chapel and adjacent to the extension of Toi Market where fresh produce is being vended. Now, this stretch

sKEndalsylvaNYA: Betraying the Kenyan National Anthem

They give new meaning to the phrase ‘putting forward one’s best foot’. Sinewy and agile, keeping abreast with the pacemaker, trudging mile after mile under the scorching sun or the biting cold, aiming for the ultimate prize… the Olympic gold; paid for in blood, sweat and tears. They run for glory, pride written all over

The shame that is living in Dagoretti

Recently, my grandma was to visit me to see and bless her new-born great-grandson. Now, I live in Dagoretti in one of those villages with a funny name- Kanungaga. Kanungaga borders Gatina Village, with Macharia Road separating the two. From town, you board a Route 56 matatu at Railways, where touts, as they scramble for

Ala C- Kama wimbo: A review

Mi nakatika nakatika mi nakatika… Miaka inavosonga nazidi kuwa mzae Inabidi kupanga maisha ya baadaye Mi nsaka nyumba iko wapi pesa Mi nataka pia gari; Mi nasaka mchumba Yuko wapi mwenza; Mi nataka pia kumarry… (As the tears pass by, old age is creeping on me I realise I have to plan for my future

Barracuda 945

What would happen if terrorists were able to access a nuclear submarine that is virtually undetectable? Patrick Robinson, the author, submerges us into such a possibility with this riveting thriller that is Barracuda 945. From the conversion of Major Ray Kerman, highly skilled SAS operative, into General Ravi Rashood, HAMAS commander on a revenge mission,

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer

“MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always found him so — because it began another week’s slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening holiday, it made the going into captivity and fetters again so much more odious.” The first paragraph of Chapter Six is