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...
Some nights, the sky feels utterly starless, doesn't it? A heavy blanket of darkness where you lose the felt memory of the warmth of the sun or the gentle light of the moon. I have been walking through one of those starless nights lately, a season when my own heart is learning the clumsy dance of holding grief while composting old wounds that have scarred over and healed. It was in this quiet darkness that a gift arrived, not with a loud announcement, but like a steady, gentle flame. That gift is Faith Njahĩra Wangarĩ’s newly published ebook, Love, Grief and Healing: Your companion through loss and discovery . It is a bright torch, and its light is guiding the way home to myself. I am honoured and touched to know Faith, my fellow feminist sibling, and so it is a profound experience to receive the gift of her words and reflections. Her book is a generous, raw, honest, and profoundly moving account of her healing journey, which validates the path I am on to be more pres...
Last week, I found myself in the auditorium of the Nairobi National Museum, attending the memorial and celebration of the late Senior Counsel Phiroze Nowrojee. The air thick with a palpable sense of loss, yet interwoven with it was a powerful current of collective memory and profound respect for one of Kenya's true legal heroes. Tributes flowed, shared stories sparked both laughter and tears, and poignant quotes echoed through the space, collectively painting a vivid picture of Phiroze Nowrojee's remarkable, invaluable, and enduring legacy. He was, without a doubt, a champion of justice and a fervent supporter of creative expression and his influence on Kenya immeasurable. Yet, as I later recounted the memorial of this extraordinary icon to a young Gen Z, I was met with a blank stare. "Who is Phiroze Nowrojee?" The name didn't ring a bell. Neither did many of the other names I mentioned, names synonymous with Kenya's arduous journey that led us to enjoy the...
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