Stories of K

 By Kevin kogo           A young man was buried today in our village.  He lived by the famous sword and died on the surgical table.  His eulogy was short with half the pages filled with hymns.  Birth, Christianity, death. Three paragraphs summarized his 31-year story.  His father didn't attend the burial; his uncles came wearing long coats and gumboots.  His mother, burying the second child, seemed defeated, maybe sorry, not sad.  There were no speeches, just lectures and warnings.  The sermon was hurried up; the pastor had other events scheduled.  The soil was red and wet, the casket quite light, and the framed picture too grainy.  His friends dug the grave, and his friends filled it up.  His siblings stood longer by the grave.  There were no flowers.  His chapter had ended, and he didn't need roses, a public address system, or eulogies ... just rest.

  Mkariri:Kevin Kogo Yule aliyesema haezi kubabaishwa na mapenzi Alikutwa amejinyonga na barua ndefu ya malalamiko ya kusalitiwa! Yule bwana mdogo aliyekua akiamini mtu mzima hakosei Leo amezeeka na ujinga wake! Yule kasisi aliyeshinda akiubiri kuhusu heshima na ndoa Jumamosi hii ilimkuta kafumaniwa lodging na mke wa mtu! Nani hajawahi kuishi Njee ya maneno yake? Mwalimu aliyetufundisha vyema swala la unyanyasaji wa kijinsia Nyumbani kwake haipiti siku bila kumpiga  mkewe! Mchawi na macho yake mekundu kuwakemea na kuwaroga wengine Leo amefiwa analia dunia haina huruma! Yule binti aliyemsifu mamake kwa kumlea japo ya shida na taabu Historia inamhukumu kwa kutoa mimba tatu sababu uoga wa malezi! Nani hajawahi kuishi Njee ya maneno yake? Bi Mkubwa aliyekua akimkejeli bi mdogo sababu ya tatizo la ugumba Leo  analia watoto wake wamefariki kwa ajali ya moto na ndoa yake inateketea! Aliyemtenga rafiki yake  baada ya kufeli mitihani Leo yuko kwenye foleni y...

 By Kevin Kogo We slept with water cannons cruising through our estates and tear gas canisters flying over our apartments. We heard the wails of massacre and blasts of the oppressors into the dead of night. We woke up to a timeline of gory images, 'Free so & so' hashtags, plus more bodies at the city mortuary. We quietly walked to work, kicking bullet casings and stepping over blood on the pavements, to meet fat apathetic bosses who dared question us about where we were yesterday. We are still staring at computer screens with black eyes and antagonized brains when the president gives a 30-minute press briefing saying only two words: "FUCK YOU." William Ruto - the devil we knew - has turned out to be a villain beyond any phrase. A deaf man with a twisted, reverse loyalty to his political friends, he has just hijacked this whole thing to dilute the self-serving cause. Honestly, WTF! Onesmus Kipchumba Murkomen, a flamboyant lawyer who wears a belt that switches ...

 By Kevin Kogo It went from Keyboard Revolution to the streets of Nairobi and now 'X' spaces. All along, as our banners and placards screamed leaderless, tribeless, partyless, we deluded ourselves from a simple reality: we marched to the gates of parliament as a result of online influence, advertised, mobilized, and to a large extent facilitated by popular online influencers. Truth is, tweets and stances of these individuals hyped, slowed, moralized, or demoralized the cause. All along, they have been the de facto face and voice of the Gen Z Movement. Faces that we can see and faces that we know. It catches me by no surprise that Osama Otero jumped ship at the 11th hour. He has been a victim of abduction; he was at City Mortuary to see the lifeless body of his 22-year-old friend lying on cold slabs beside twenty-something other protestors. He has seen the system with its masks off, the ugliness of injustice, yet all the same, he has chosen money over sanity. As Otero sits w...

By Awando Brandon I really never get the reason why we Africans  act as puppets I can shift some blame to the colonial system. The whites fucked us. but that was 60 years ago the trauma has to fade with the older generation, we have to accept,a blury past is a demon that will forever taint our free thinking and haunt our peace of Mind . Our traditional ways were stripped off and Ruthless capitalism enforced.It was a system full of faults with no transition tolerance Yet we are six decades into it,we have long adopted the faults and even created new ones for ourselves,we move on with our struggles. Poverty level in our country is tremendous, but who really gives a damn about it. I mean why should there be a begger near the church gate? What teachings do they preach? The word is clear ' give a hand to those in need' but  churches turned into enterprises long time ago,sundays are for business and beggars represent outlets. Thats bad for profit The decay is ever...

By Kennedy Kipchumba The first article I ever wrote on this blog was titled "fast Money,Fast cars,Fast Grave" Then, four men had been abducted in kitengela's Choma joint,totured, wrapped in sucks like potatoes and thrown to rot in different rivers around Nairobi A year later the internet is picking up a similar story again .This time bodies of Kasarani flossing boys  were found Dickless, with punctured eyes and deep toture cuts Cause: WASH WASH When you post CQ statements  like "I must make it legally or illegally"  "Chase the bag by all means"...Do you have the balls to die naked tied in a steel chair as someone drills a six inch nail in your urethra? People talk of fraud and scam games as if it's a child play.You just sweep  millions of shillings out of someones bank account to buy alcohol in 1824 and  expect him to go down silently? It's a war with Guns,hitmen,Rouge officers,spies, snitches and bodies floating in River Yala...

By Kevin Kogo I never knew why I found solace in the parting I always wondered why I thought of how the hurt would somehow build me to overcoming — a lost love, a broken part, a false hope, a fading friendship, and a life with holes and bare patches I always thought that there were no happy endings — only happy seconds, happy minutes, happy hours, and happy days. It always comes back to a state of longing, breaking, and emptying Life is no sappy movie with a reunited kiss and a touch of rekindling. It doesn’t stay at the pedestal of hoping. It follows the clock that keeps on ticking. It is a cruel yet beautifully continuous storytelling. It is a constant climbing and plummeting. It is not a chapter nor a tune made for stopping. No matter what you do, your limbs will carry you both to the fall and rising. So why do you still hope for a happy ending? There is only a marvelous moment, a millisecond of joy, and a short glimpse of the unexchangeable merriment happeni...