Diary of a Mjengo girl

In this kavillage of ours, Kiberege, where gossip traveled faster than the boda bodas that zipped through the dusty roads, Wamaku’s maternal cousin Hamida has been the subject of much discussion in the recent past. Hamida, a spirited young woman in her early twenties, has a reputation that causes many of the village elders to raise their eyebrows and cluck their tongues in disapproval. You see, in Kiberege, the idea of a woman enjoying a drink is as scandalous as a chicken deciding to swim in the village pond. It is simply not done. But Hamida, with her bright smile and infectious laugh, just like her cousin the foreman, has a mind of her own. It all started one fateful evening when the village was celebrating the annual harvest festival. The air was thick with the scent of roasting maize and the sound of jubilant ululations. Hamida, dressed in her favorite kitenge, had been helping her mother prepare chapatis all day. By sunset, she was tired but excited to join the festivities. As th...

For most people (well-adjusted people, to be precise), their mother is the most important person in their lives. I mean, there is no love like a mother's love. Most kids, when they grow up, their inspiration is often their mothers because they feel like they owe a lot to the woman who gave them life and kept them alive. But then, there is Wamaku, the foreman at the Mang'ula road construction site. Wamaku is a big man, both in stature and presence, known for his booming voice that could be heard across the construction site, even over the roar of machinery. He is the type of man who wears his hard hat even at lunchtime and believes that if something doesn’t fit, you just need a bigger hammer. Wamaku has always thought of himself as a man’s man—tough, unyielding, and as immovable as the mountains that surrounded Mang'ula. However, there is one thing that can soften even Wamaku’s steely exterior: his mother. It was a hot afternoon, and the crew was hard at work, trying to fini...

My landlord's kids are home for the Christmas holidays. There is no more quiet in the compound. Even the ducks and chicken appear restless because any time mwenye nyumba 's kid passes by they have to make their presence known by either chasing the birds or just stamping their tiny feet so the birds can move away. I'm pretty sure in the heads of the birds, when that happens they are thinking,"well, this is it. I'm dinner." So the anxiety must be all over the place. And before anyone asks, y es, chickens do have brains, and they are capable of basic cognitive functions. While their brains are not as complex as those of mammals, chickens exhibit behaviors that suggest some level of thinking and problem-solving ability. They can learn from experience, navigate their environment, recognize other chickens, and even show signs of social intelligence within their flock. However, their cognitive abilities are more focused on survival instincts and social interactions r...