The Imara Daima station, where train passengers spent an hour on Thursday Morning The foul smell in my house is a lingering reminder. See, I did not take out the garbage for the second time in a row. No, I'm not in some feat to break a record. The first time I overslept, or rather, slept through most of the day. Yesterday, I only remembered to take the garbage when I was out of the gate. I would have gone back to do it, but time waits for no man. We were two men, son and farther, and the train we were going to catch runs on scheduled time, which again as I just mentioned, waits for no man, or even men. My dad was excited, see, the previous night he had sat through Mombasa Road traffic, which takes hours for those who ply the road and days for those who aren't accustomed. There was an accident, a friendly motorist had hit another one's rear bumper, spinning the vehicle such that it faced oncoming traffic. It's hard to understand why its is a national hobby in K
Kenya, Africa: General life and a dash of ICT usually with a satirical and critical sprinkling.