Sikiliza

26 January, 03:54 The date always sneaks up on me, bringing with it that familiar January range of emotions. It is a tough month. Between the being the birthday month of you and Swes, my heart often feels a little heavier, filled with a handful of mimories of the gift of having you both in my world—and then not. Today, Babs would have been turning 85. As I sit here trying to conjure up the right way to pay tribute to his life, his attention to detail, and his unending kindness, my mind keeps drifting back to something surprisingly simple: text messages. Specifically, two exchanges that I treasure as the final traces of his voice. The most recent one happened just days before he left us. He had asked me to run an errand for him in Nairobi, which I did happily. I didn't think twice about it, but two days later, my phone lit up. He sent me 500/- via M-Pesa. Accompanying it was a message thanking me for, as he put it, "ua trouble." I smiled then, and I smile now remembering i...

Dear Swes, I woke up last night calling out your name. Sweeeeeeeeees… The world knew you as Binya, but for me, you will always be my beloved big brother whom we nicknamed Sweswe—though to this day, I am not sure who started it or why. My childish voice traveled noisily everywhere seeking you. It was just the way we used to do it when we were kids—shouting to the rafters, like I was trying to reach you somewhere far off in that huge, expansive setup that was home in Naks growing up. I wanted my voice to meet you, to embrace you, and to shove you—in that specific way in which siblings love and irritate each other in one sweeping movement. Last evening, I spoke to an acquaintance who lost her brother in December 2022. She told me that she only managed to breathe calmly again in December 2025, when her friends and loved ones marked her birthday by spoiling her with love and gifts. I quietly told her: I can relate. There is nothing as horrible as losing a sibling. You miss them, you fiercel...