Toothy Bhajia To tell you about the tooth, I first have to tell you about Joy. But before I get to Joy, we need to talk about Bernadette. And to understand Bernadette, we have to start with my wardrobe choices and a nickname—CEO. Back in campus, I was that guy. The one who walked into lectures looking like he’d just come from a board meeting—pressed trousers and polished shoes—while everyone else embraced the "just-rolled-out-of-bed" aesthetic. My friends found it endlessly amusing. “Here comes the CEO!” they’d announce, with all the mock reverence of employees greeting their boss. And with that title came an unspoken duty: picking up the tab during our Friday escapades along Kimathi Street. Enter Tracy, my friend’s girlfriend, who swore she had an inside plug for the best jeans in Nairobi. “Best in 254, hands down,” she said with the conviction of someone testifying in court. That’s how I met Bernadette—a woman with skin the colour of caramel lattes and a s...
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The Reluctant Return You know that moment when your ancestors collectively decide to shame you? Mine arrived in a Nairobi nyama choma joint when someone asked me to recommend a good fish place in Kisumu. I stood there, mouth opening and closing like a confused tilapia. Me? A whole Luo man, as authentic as they come, unable to tell Lwang'ni from Dunga Beach? The shame was thicker than the bone soup I was sipping. Being Luo comes with expectations heavier than a Christmas serving of “kuon and Aliya”. People assume you have a PhD in all things Kisumu—that you can navigate its streets blindfolded and probably learned to swim in Nam Lolwe before you could walk. But there I was, a son of Bugusero (or Muksero, if you're feeling fancy with your Dholuo), more familiar with dodging matatus on Moi Avenue than spotting hippos at Hippo Point. My trips home had always been predictable—through Narok, where Maasai morans pose by the roadside like they're shooting a National Geographic co...
More than Just a Golf Tournament The sun's coming up over Muthaiga Golf Club this week, and I couldn't be more excited for the Magical Kenya Open! From February 20-23, our country hosts what has become not just Kenya's biggest sporting event, but one of Africa's most prestigious golf tournaments. I remember when this tournament was just a regional competition - now it's a $2.5 million showcase that attracts top talent from around the world! Can you believe the winner takes home $425,000? That's over 54 million shillings! No wonder it's considered the richest sporting event in Kenya. What amazes me most is how our little tournament has grown. Since joining the European Tour (now DP World Tour) in 2019, it's gone global. My friends in London watch it on Sky Sports, my friend in America catches it on Golf Channel, and my Dutch colleague follows it on Ziggo Sport. The whole world gets to see our beautiful country! There's something special about Muthai...
The Fascinating History and Global Celebration of Valentine's Day In the bustling streets of Nairobi today, persistent hawkers wave artificial red roses at hurried passersby. Supermarket aisles have transformed into crimson wonderlands, with chocolate boxes stacked to precarious heights and wine bottles lined up like soldiers ready for romantic battle. Meanwhile, club owners are frantically hanging heart-shaped decorations, preparing for the inevitable tsunami of love-struck (or love-seeking) patrons. But Valentine's Day isn't just about emptying wallets and consuming enough chocolate to question your life choices—it's a celebration with roots deeper than your ex's emotional issues. Valentine's Day traces back to ancient Rome and the festival of Lupercalia—a fertility celebration where "romance" meant something quite different than today's candlelit dinners. As Christianity spread faster than gossip in a small town, the church cleverly rebranded th...
The Invisible Forces Shaping Our Lives Last week, right outside my house, a heated debate erupted among a group of boda boda riders. The topic? Why business had been so slow for some of them lately. The prime suspect? Not fuel prices, not customer trends, but a fellow rider who had the nerve to wipe their motorcycles with a wet towel in the early morning. This man alone was responsible for their collective financial misfortune! Forget about market forces or customer preferences—according to them, it all boiled down to the moisture content of a cleaning rag. Meanwhile, over at Vet Lab Golf Club, there used to be a caddie who treated morning greetings from people he encountered on the way to work like a curse. Say "jambo" to him at the start of the day, and apparently, you've just doomed him to a full day of unemployment. Before the scientific method or Google existed, humans scrambled for explanations about why things happened. Lightning struck your hut? The sky god...
Remembering M. E. Musa (Mohamud Egal Musa): The Man Who Lived for Golf Today, as we gather for the Mohamed Egal Musa Memorial Trophy at Vet Lab Sports Club, we're not just playing a round of golf—we're honoring a man whose passion and dedication shaped the very culture of Vet Lab. Musa wasn't just a golfer; he was a force of nature with a golf club, a man who could spot an unauthorized hacker from 300 yards away through dense fog. His journey from an outsider to a respected Captain is a story of perseverance, discipline, and an unwavering love for the game that bordered on the obsessive—the kind that makes spouses check their partner into therapy. Musa's journey at Vet Lab started in the 1990s, thanks to Catherine Kuria, a past Lady Captain who spotted potential in him and decided to introduce him to the game. When she took him to the starter, she uttered words that would later become legendary: "Nimeleta huyu Msomali, mumuonyeshe golf sababu pombe itamumaliza....
The Problem with Giving Dogs Human Names In my community, people have developed a curious habit that raises eyebrows and occasionally causes chaos – naming their dogs after prominent figures. Walk down any street, and you might hear someone calling out to a dog named "Mandela," or see a proud pup who answers to "Obama." There's even a particularly grumpy dog who goes by "Moi." The situation gets especially interesting when someone's frantically yelling, "Osama, come back here!" or "Saddam, drop that shoe!" But this wasn't always the case. During my childhood, dogs had proper dog names that seemed to fit their four-legged nature perfectly – "Popy," "Tusker," "Simba," "Chui." And then there was "Bosco." Oh, "Bosco"! This name was so ubiquitous that every other dog seemed to answer to it. In fact, it was so common in the canine world that I grew up genuinely believing ...