Walter Kathumbi

We brave the evening cold as we wait for Mheshimiwa. Ominous dark clouds gather above us. We can smell rain in the air. “A storm is coming,” an old man with a scruffy Ascot cap remarks. We nod sagely. If Mheshimiwa is not here by 10 P.M, we’ll have to cash in our losses and go home. A flatbed truck roars through the weathered dirt road. We take cover behind the desolate sheds of the farmers’ market where we hold our vigil. The dust rises, passes through us like a vengeful ghost, then settles. A young mother attempts to hush… Read More »