I have a sister who’s a nurse like me… She worked as a volunteer nurse for a sector of the government that caters to children, infant and sometimes newborns who are abandoned or are orphan. They give shelter, food and education to these children.
I remember the story she told me years ago…Read more: Ms Reaper
My grandmother’s home is in a place quite far from civilization, on a solitary hill with few inhabitants but mostly full of shrubs and rocks. But if that isn’t scary enough, there is this one old, deserted and solitary house next to her hut, a few steps away. You see, such houses were common in African villages but this one was different. Its tattered walls, broken glasses and its unkempt garden was all proof that something was wrong with that homestead.Read more: A Cursed House
When I attended my friend’s dad’s funeral, he had died in a car accident; I did not anticipate what I witnessed. The customs that dictate where a deceased is to be buried are so alive in Kenya, particularly western Kenya.
My friend’s dad had confided in his wife that if he were to die, he would wish to be buried on the land which they had bought together in Matasia. When he died the family of the deceased opposed to this saying that customs dictate that one is buried in their ancestral home, which was in Kisumu. The family also had customs that whoever buries the body also inherits the deceased person’s property. Furthermore they did not consider my friend’s mother as wife of the deceased as he had not paid the full amount of dowry before his death and so she had no rights over his body and property.Read more: Odd Circumstance
Two years back I visited my grandmother in her rural home in Nyahururu. It was during Easter and everyone was in a celebratory mood. All my relatives were there. My grandmother always looked forward to such events when all her family would come together.
Then, on Friday night, we were robbed. Some people had got into the house, the granary and the cattle shed while everyone was asleep. So many household items were stolen and also some harvest in the granary which included wheat, beans potatoes and rice. That did not seem to bother my grandmother so much like the stolen sheep that she was to slaughter us the next day. From the way the robbery was carried, the robbers must have been very familiar with the layout and most likely had the keys to the house, the granary and the shed. It was definitely an inside job. Everyone started to speculate but no one came up with a suspect based on any concrete reasons.
Read more: Don't Mess With a Mundu Mugo