Immigrant Journey
The Soul Price of Illegal Immigration
I once had a friend who looked me straight in the eye and said, “I have zero morals.” Then he added something even more chilling…
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The Villager
When the Forest Became a Name
To the young, it was just land. To the old, it was a living memory. In Gitithia, the first and second generations once walked un…
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
When Blood Became a Commodity
They survived the camps to save the land—only for us to sell it. I was born in Gitithia village, a time when nearly ninety-nine …
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
The Bus Stop My Children Couldn’t Imagine
To my children, it was an abandoned bus stop. To us, it was the beginning of every journey. I sat with my children under the sha…
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
A Village That Knew Every Home
There was a time when help did not ask which kibara, group, you belonged to. When Gitithia was one village, I was just a small b…
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
The Village Where Death Announced Itself
In Gitithia, death never arrived unannounced—it always sent a message first. In the quiet Gitithia, where the air was thick with…
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
The Village That Chased Water
They turn taps today, not knowing their village once walked for every drop. In Lare forest, the sound of clattering jerrycans ec…
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
The Village That Loosened Its Grip
We gained freedom—but forgot who was meant to teach us how to use it. The village we live in today is a far cry from the Gitithi…
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
Homes Made of Time
They did not inherit houses of stone—they built them, one era at a time. In the early 1960s, the villagers of Gitithia emerged f…
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
A Village That Lived Divided
They shared a village—but not the same history. Gitithia village, at first glance, appeared to be a closely connected community.…
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
When Healing Lived Among the People
Healing once walked to the village—then learned to leave quietly. In Gitithia, life was simple, and so were the people’s ailment…
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
The Village That Waited for Its Sons
They left to build a future—and came back old enough to mourn it. Gitithia, a village once vibrant with the laughter of children…
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
A Village That Never Deleted
They prayed with clean hands—but carried heavy files in their hearts. In Gitithia, religious faith was more than just a belief—i…
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
The Files the Village Kept
In Gitithia, healing did not erase the files—it only added pages. The hour for Mburu came. It was in Gitithia village, a place w…
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
Those Who Do Not Listen Have No Life
They called the elders outdated—until life proved them right. Gitithia, a village rich with tradition and history, the elders of…
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
A Village Trapped Between Books and Blood
The chains were never in the schools—they were carried quietly from one generation to the next. In Gitithia, there was an unspok…
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
The Blessings the Old Withheld
Some blessings are not inherited—they are earned. In Gitithia village, a place where the soil held memories of generations, the …
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
The Anthem of Neglect
They learned the song of neglect so well that even hope stopped listening. Gitithia village, a small settlement 44 kilometers fr…
byDavid Waithera
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The Villager
Give Me My Flowers While I Am Alive
They dressed us well in death—but forgot us in life. In Gitithia, the old had a song—a haunting melody that echoed within the vi…
byDavid Waithera
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