journey through

Chapter 4 The ‘paghules’ are looking right at me and I know that I can’t go the other way for I am on the only path to the grazing fields. I actually recognize a couple of them. ‘Kipkemboi?’ I call out, gay once again. He responds, with a slap to be specific. I had totally forgotten that they were not to be refered to by their second name by a person who still wasn’t circumcised. I was lucky for they were ingood moods so they just kicked me around before they let me go. I too will do the same in two years time. Cherotich, the lady who turns my legs to jelly appears from the small bend near the field. She smiles at me. I die. I want to shake her hands just to feel her rough palms tickling mine but I look down sheepishly. I hear the ‘paghules’ laughing and that erases my shame. I open my hands wide to hug her, something that was only done by grown-ups in the privacy of their bedrooms and I hear her gasp. She wonders whether to respond to my embrace or not but while she still was

Chapter three My plan as I told you earlier was stealing. Those yellow mangoes almost always laugh at us contemptuously when we pass by glorifying their immense beauty and grace, today, they will grace my stomach with their sweet trickling juices. As I walk with my stick in hand, I think of the plunder hanging there, just for the taking, their juices flowing through my dirty fingers and my thirsty mouth and…wait, I forgot about the dogs, and also to introduce my ‘beast’. I have a mutt that I call ‘taska’, and what I can tell you is that he does well for a dog of an indecipherable breed. He however is no match for the dogs at the Towet’s. they were the very animals I was going to face, rather trick but first, taska had to go home. “kwera, kwera, enda kwenyu. He was a potential time bomb and could bark when I’m up in the mango tree. He has done a lot for me but I have to be strict with him as of now. Despite his good track record, he had let me down quite a number of times,

                 THE VILLAGE HERDER'S DIARIES. chapter one The cows today seemed relaxed and at peace. My journey took me down the river bed and into the Tanui's farm from whence i could easily access the mangoes ripening near his house. They have for long been a subject of fantasy, dreaming of them through the night only to be woken up with a slap that i was producing strange sounds, like the suckling of a calf. Today i'll do it. Oh, but first, my two friends Kiprotich and Kipkemoi aren't around today. Kiprotich was caught by the farm owner and was nursing minor injuries at the village dispensary due to the 'mauling' arap Tanui's whip had done to him. I was a bit lucky to be having only a few stripes on my back. his shirt got stuck when he was running out of the farm. I remember him yelling his lungs out while we stiffled our laughter behind a clump of bushes. We only stopped when he pointed to our direction and yelled in his gibberish tounge, "at K

   DIARIES OF THE VILLAGE HERDER I was born in luhyaland but as fate had it, my old man was charmed by a smile from a lady of immense blackness and as they all do, put a ring on it (I’ve never seen the ring on though). That’s how I came to find myself in this land. Being one of the dirty, little village boys, the responsibility of being obedient and taking care of the villagers cows as they dropped by for a banter session was bestowed on my lean shoulders and those of my honourable age-groupers. There is an old radio that I have been accorded the honour of walking around with, making me a hero among my playmates. I while away my lonely time listening to its static and yelp in joy when a song or sound pokes out from within the bushes of ‘ssshhhhhh.’ At times, the network happens to be good enough but then my batteries don’t favour me much. There is a lady we al have hots for. Her name’s cherotich. I think she likes me more though I ain’t sure why? Is is because I’m cooler than

this is one of my best works. it is an unpublished manuscript i worked on four months ago. my first blog. Chronicles of the moonlight sojourner The moon was just breaking out of the sparse layer of clouds dotting the equally bored night sky. The night was quiet save for the occasional howl of the wild hounds and a cricket or two shaken from their wary slumber. From some place in the darkness rose a figure shrouded in the night air. A creak could be heard from his jointed knees and was soon bent double in a bout of nerve wracking cough. He turned to his side where a small rusty can hung as if clutching for dear life and tilted it as if to take a drink but cursed on finding it empty. He shed off the threadbare blanket that served as the only form of vindication against the merciless cold and shoved into a tattered bag on the ground that had definitely seen better days. He sat down and examined his leg tied with a white, now crimson rug that served as a bandage for his heavi