Tomorrow I’ll Be Twenty: by Wairimũ Mũrĩithi


In this country, a boss should always be bald and have a big belly. My uncle isn’t bald, he hasn’t got a big belly, and you don’t realise, the first time you see him, that he’s the actual boss of a big office in the centre of town. It’s in Heshima House, a well-polished building flanked by the Ministry of Police and that banking complex with the huge playground that you can see from the highway. All the bosses that come out of those buildings definitely have big bellies and shiny heads. There’s a fancy café on the ground floor of Heshima House with green sun umbrellas on the terrace for them to have their boss-lunches and boss-drinks. Uncle Ben bought me a milkshake there once.

Other than the full head of hair and the flat, strong tummy — it’s so strong, I can stand on it with both…

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