It’s been seven months since my heart was broken into a thousand little pieces. Seven months since I added too much salt to the food because my mind was somewhere else replaying conversations, trying to figure out what I did wrong. My dad did not even think about it as he went on his jokes about how he should have cooked the food himself. He always cracks this joke about me having, perhaps, gone and cooked the food in Lake Magadi.

You know how a man seems interested in you and makes conversation then he cannot keep it up when you are already getting interested too? I hate that. I really do. I don’t get why someone would get my interest running then jump off the vehicle and leave it running down the hill. It sucks. It’s unfair. If you know you are going to do that to me, you’d rather just watch me from a distance. Watch me waiting for the next driver. Don’t just jump in because I look like I am desperate enough to let any driver on.

She was minding her own business. The last thing on her mind that Friday was a man. In fact, she just wanted to get to her bedsitter and lock herself in and just wallow in the bliss of aloneness. No one would get in the way of her plans. In fact, she had just bought herself the entire season three of Once Upon a Time, just to binge-watch. The producers of that show must be a couple of geniuses to have thought of bringing fairy tales into a palatable format for grownup girls who were still waiting for Prince Charming. That is all she needed. To watch that palpable chemistry between Hook and Emma and wish she was in Emma’s place. She still had that bad boy syndrome going on. But she kept it under wraps for her own good; and any bad boy out there.

By Mwangi wa Njihia

In the beginning was man. Not the plurality of humankind but the biological man. And the man was an undisputed social head. And the society became patriarchal. And men have dominated the women ever since. That was until some few years ago when women subtly cracked male domination. The women then delivered a full punch through an effort called female emancipation. And with that, women demanded equal status to men. And the ‘masculine’ woman was given life. But the man started losing ‘form’. Things have never been the same since.

I live in a room that offers a vantage point to Hostel K and L entrances. When I say Hostel K and L, I am referring to the ladies’ hostels, make no mistake. All the same, I will tell you about the men who frequent both hostels. That common joke about the number of men who’d emerge from either hostel in the event of a fire is very true. I will describe them to you, one by one. I will do this using Hostel L since what I see there is replicated in K. (You may think I have a lot of free time; I will let you be the judge of that.)