Mzangila

Mentor, media consultant, photographer, editor, poet, writer, and counselor.

The money-milking machine called Ruracio

Post Views = 4251Conversations occur in swahili but have been loosely translated Among the Kikuyu, there is a custom they call Ruracio. Most communities have it, only that the execution varies from one to the other. And this is why Ruracio is more pronounced than others. Ruracio is a dowry payment ceremony where the groom, with other able men, visits …

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One day in the life

Post Views = 1784Benz and I trickle into a lousy joint along Luthuli Avenue at around 1 pm. The joint is annexed to the corner, facing two shops because it occupies a bigger space. The size of it could make a one bedroom crib in Roysambu with the toilet and shower squeezed into one small room. This means that your …

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Trophy love

Post Views = 2548My wanderlust leads me to the North this time. I am a traveler of our times who never owned a real passport or money to improve his own jagged life. At 26, I have travelled to more than 18 countries all over the world- doing things that won’t influence anyone’s life positively. I am forced to travel. …

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Writing for what it is: Things never told

Post Views = 4497Back in 2015 I started Mzangila Writing Masterclass. The same year, I also initiated Mzangila Writers’ Café. I ran Mzangila Mentorship Class adjacently. This was in my third year in college when I was obsessed with success. Most importantly, my obsession with writing had advanced to another level where I felt I needed to hone more young …

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Of daughters and baby sitting

Post Views = 3674I didn’t manage to write anything on this blog last Wednesday but one. It pained me even as I sat in Java Ngong Road sipping my coffee quietly. I was having a very special guest, seated across the table having a mug of blended juice. I couldn’t understand why she took juice during such a nippy weather. …

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The life in this hole

Post Views = 3929The tendency of becoming lazy didn’t start to court me recently. Over the years, it has been tagging at the hem of my coat. Fate has hurled laxity at my face every time I seemed to get subtle. And this has always made me to regress, and become that person that is not me. It makes me …

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