Aging

Aging The one the grandchildren called Herbie is blind; called Karanja by the swing when she mutters at dusk to the passing wind. As if she didn’t need the visit. To feel. ‘Ka Gari,’ the old owner to himself, to the swing as if it were the grown up child, who doesn’t visit much. Karanja...

‘The Fundis Consider their Handiwork;’

‘The Fundis Consider their Handiwork;’ This is the house the worker built, not KANU or the Mission Schools. It’s not the House of Mumbi nor the Palace of Ramogi. It is clearly no manyatta nor a classic Kamba thatch. It’s a Nairobi house, perhaps: strong concrete, scaffold and the labour of the builders who have...

Season of My City

Season of my City ........brilliant butterflies hover like perfume..... ©Sitawa Namwalie Photography: Wambui Mwangi

Feeling Good

Khanga Path

Children Watching

Fear

Quandary of the Newly Corrupt

My Garden

Asi

Asi For Stephen You ask me to trust delicate suspensions Bridges across blindspots To believe in the promise of brass I cling to delicate vines Marvel at sun-dappled whispers Listen for the promise of fugues © Keguro Macharia