Soapie Tropey Part I. 

SoapieFootCandle An Introduction

Photography by Kevin Tosh.

A bit of soapie trivia for all you soap opera lovers and haters out there: the first soap opera was aired on October 20th 1930 and it was a radio show. And this you probably know: the name soap opera is because a. they were sponsored by detergent companies wishing to market their products to housewives, hence the “soap” and b. they were and still are very dramatic, hence the “opera”.

Love Story.

PicturePhotography by Kevin Tosh

I’ve been thinking a lot about love– and love stories– lately. And no, I’m not about to announce my engagement/marriage/relationship or to write publicly about my love life here. There’s also not much to report– in the sense that I’m not even sure what I’d be writing about exactly. But, I digress. You know what’s a lot more interesting than my real life love life? Books, movies, TV series about love. Or “Love” given that people might disagree with some of the depictions of love in these works.

So Long, Goodbye

PicturePart III: Agnes
Photography by Kevin Tosh.
(See here for Part I, and here
for Part II)
Here are a few things that were not strengths of Agnes’s: cooking, sewing, riding a bicycle, saying goodbye. As a child she had clung to physical objects every time she had to be taken away from a place that was familiar, she would wrap her feet and arms tightly around chairs, hold on to doors so that nothing could happen until she had been pulled off one finger at a time. Continue Reading

So Long, Goodbye.


Part II: Teresia

Photography by Kevin Tosh
 (See here for Part I)

Their compartment was dusty, and there was nothing that bothered Teresia more than dust. She would find herself imagining the tiny particles settling on her hand, embedding themselves in the grooves on her palm, collecting one after another until her hand was traced over with microscopic brown, or black or red lines.

So Long, Goodbye.

Part I: Saying Goodbye.

Photography by Kevin Tosh.

As the locomotive roared to life, the sisters Agnes and Teresia waved at Jecinta and Uncle Airstrip, who had brought them to Stone City Train Station. The last few days, Jecinta had danced around them with glee, assuring them that she absolutely completely would not miss them. “Me? Never! Finally, I’ll have all of this space to myself, I can’t wait!” Of course, as expected, she had burst into uncontrollable sobs as they had left the house and was crying into her sweater sleeve when the train took off.

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The Blooming Pouis of Mona.

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(Of Love, Poetry and Rejection) by Muturi wa Njeri.

Part I: September 2015
On Monday January 19th, after excitedly Instagramming a photo captioned last first day of college, I made my way to my first poetry class at the University of the West Indies (UWI) in Mona, Kingston. Our teacher had just finished dishing out copies of the syllabus when I spotted her seated on the other end of the lecture room. As Dr. Morrison extolled her love for poetry, the definition of poetry that formed and stuck in my mind was the beauty of that girl seated at the other side of the room, the beauty of C—not her real name (lol).

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Awoke1Images (and for more pictures + the story behind the collaboration): Binty Gakii
Words by me.
You know-
it’s funny:
you don’t know that you’re asleep
until the day you start to rouse.


Sketch by Janice Angengo.
Words by Wanjiku Mungai.
The Chrysthanthemums— the pyrethrum flowers– had been harvested and laid out flat on a burlap sack to dry in the sun. If it started to rain it could be disastrous, so the two of them watched to make sure that in this case, they could very quickly move them out into the shade.
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Flower Girl

IvyNyayiekaBloom2By Ivy Nyayieka. 

I have only ever been a flower girl once.

I was six years old, wearing a white dress, before I started to feel that white dresses accused me of things, before the priest said that we wear white to show that we are free from sin.

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