Kenya, July 8 -- We had nothing except love, a gas cylinder, a mattress on the floor, WiFi, and aspirations after university. "As long as we have each other, we'll be okay," we assured ourselves. Being poor isn't romantic. In Nairobi, we were two unemployed recent grads sharing a little room in Zimmerman. The cabbage vendor outside began calling us names since we used to eat ugali and cabbage so frequently.
It was boiling nduma one day and ugali-mayai the next. It was a party if we purchased meat. Our outings? Pretending to window-shop while strolling around the town. We used to share a bottle of Coke while sitting on a seat in Uhuru Park, acting like this was the norm. In our hearts, however, we were exhausted. I'm hungry. I'm frustrated. We initially laughed it off. However, things gradually altered. Resentment began to seep in. He began to snap at insignificant objects. I started to be snarky. To read more click here.
Published by HT Digital Content Services with permission from Bana Kenya.