Guilty As Charged

It was a high-profile case with a high-octane media frenzy. I was now part of statistics of rising cases of police officers killing their spouses. The only twist was that I did not end my life in the process of giving crime reporters a field day.

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One chilly morning, just as I was getting home from work, my anorexic, pathologically thin, model-beautiful preteen daughter rushed to me naked, crying.

IN PRISON TWENTY YEARS, I got out today. No one would have said it was a sentence too lenient or an amnesty too early.

My mama always said a mother would kill for her kids. Should kill for her kids.

One chilly morning, just as I was getting home from work, my anorexic, pathologically thin, model-beautiful preteen daughter rushed to me naked, crying.

What she had been telling me all along and what I had been ignoring—because I trusted too much, leaving no room for doubt—came hurtling back. My self-proclaimed pathological liar-cum-womaniser-morphed-sexual-predator husband had raped her—for the umpteenth time.

I checked my daughter’s insides; she was wet.

My beloved, wretched husband of thirteen years, whom I too had neglected due to my job demands, emerged from our daughter’s room in a post-coital trance, not even caring to spare me the sight of his rumpled pyjamas. What father preys on his daughter despite how immodest she appears?

All my sensei-inculcated tactics and many police-paid-hours in a Japanese dojo came instinctively. A round-house pirouette got him by surprise. Before he hit the ground, I had already put two bullets in his heart with my service revolver.

It was a high-profile case with a high-octane media frenzy. I was now part of statistics of rising cases of police officers killing their spouses. The only twist was that I did not end my life in the process of giving crime reporters a field day.

‘Guilty as Charged’ was my plea.

For 20 years, I have lived with hard, die-hard incorrigible criminals caged like animals at Lang’ata Women’s Maximum Security Prison, people I had sworn to hunt.

That love for my Sweet Tracy has kept me alive in prison, but now I am out.

I would be glad to go back there if someone ever laid a finger on my daughter.

The Cursed Blessing

Twenty years after nuclear energy was discovered in Kenya in 2011, the first plant was built. It opened job opportunities even for the youth whom the President of the Republic of Kenya (PORK) had been promising jobs since independence.

Because I Love You

My Dearest, Let’s get past the cliché, I know you are fine. You always are fine. The truth can be glimpsed only through the eyes of death, and to truly

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