ISBN-10: 1926906071; ISBN-13: 978-192690607: Nsemia Inc. Publishes 2011

The Trial of the Gods - A Review

By Donna Kakonge

With the land that has been stolen from many Africans all over the continent, British rule of lands such as Botswana, it is not difficult for the lead character of The Trial of the Gods (Ontebetse, 2011) to answer the question: “Where is my homeland?” This work of fiction written by Khonani Ontebetse, an African journalist, tells the story of Jay Setlhare who battles with courts, gets the help of NGOs and human rights groups from all over the world and garners media attention by fighting to stay on his ancestral homeland – the (Central Kalahari Game Reserve) CKGR in Botswana. For the protagonist of Ontebetse’s story, it is Jay’s strong ties to his African cultural heritage and his strong ties to his African homeland that make him fight so passionately for what he believes in.


At the beginning of the book, Jay enters the courtroom wearing hides and horns – traditional clothing of his clan. Jay fights so vehemently for his homeland that he even ends up in prison, coming out ready to fight for his homeland once again with the courts and the authorities. He is a man ruled by his gods – his ancestors that seem to guide him with a strong spiritual hand and help him in his fight. This is why the fight of Jay Setlhare is called The Trial of the Gods (Ontebetse, 2011).


Unlike other books that Nsemia Press has published, such as Till I’m Laid to Rest by Garfield Ellis (2010), where the protagonist of that story, Shirley Temple Brown, has a disconnection from her Jamaican roots and feels no place of home – this book from Khonani Ontebetse has a different twist of a man fighting for his homeland and having a deep connection to his African roots and heritage. Mary Louise McCarthy’s book My Critical Chatter: An Autobiographical Narrative from the Black Diaspora (2011), also helps to round out three books from Nsemia Press that are all a must read, as McCarthy’s book also discusses the real-life story of an African-Canadian woman who does belong by birthright to Canada, however is constantly treated as though she does not. These three books all give a deep understanding of varying situations for Africans both on and off the continent and what their situations are like in modern life.

Main Theme of The Trial of the Gods

One may wonder why a small African reserve in Botswana would ignite such international attention as the CKGR. Media from around the world were interested in the plight of the Barsawa people, where Jay is from, as well as national human rights groups such as Survival International wanted to help Jay with his fight. Here are some poignant words and words that feed eternal life from the protagonist:

“Jay had learnt that best kept secret in CKGR after all, was not the discovery of diamonds by the powerful and corruptible who wanted to come up with a new deadly route in humanity, but his people’s ancient simple life style. That was the secret, that was how humankind used to be. And no matter how civilized the leaders were, even to the extent of using modern courts, they will never win a battle against their own ancestors’ way of life which Jay’s people clung to with a shocking tenacity, even up to this day. The ancestors of the leaders, realizing how their own new generation had betrayed them as far as culture and tradition were concerned, decided to be on the side of Jay’s people and his powerful spiritual gods. It was The Trial of the Gods (Ontebetse, 2011, pg. 218).”

Written in the short sentences and reportage style of a journalist, Ontebetse’s chronicling the fight for the CKGR is also a fight against tradition and modernity. Jay embraced his African ancestral customs and worshipped his homeland – the CKGR. Jay’s struggle is reflective of the battle many people from all over the world, from all different cultures, have of the effects of modernity interfering with traditional customs. As government and big business often steal the land of Indigenous peoples all over the world, mainly because of the wealth of natural resources in the earth – they are also stealing the wealth of human resources from the earth. Here are more words from another character in the novel, Qoero;  words that ring with so much eternal truth for so many African people:


“‘I agree with Lere,’ she said. ‘It could be true that we were moved to this place because of the European farmers’ oppression. Ever since then we have lived happily here. Strange things never touched us. The who’e desert is our home. We the Barsawa, own this desert. The story I got from my father who died during the locust swarm when people like Jay were born, is that we were always pushed by stronger groups. First it was the Boers from Sausa Aforika (corruption of South Africa). We landed at the then Kgalagadi, what is now called Kalahari Desert. The word Kgalagadi means thirst and struggle for survival. That explains the harsh conditions we had to endure; climatic conditions and the wounds inflicted upon us by our so-called masters even today. Don’t we carry the scars even today? she asked and then continued.’

“‘We have tattooed tears. You will never find a happy face borne by even one of our people. It is not that we were wanderers; those who were stronger than us, those who love war, forced us. As a peace loving people we had no choice but to find sanctuary in this desert. And now the relocation’” (Ontebetse, 2011, pg. 28-29).’”

          Another highlight of the book is Jay’s friendship with Jamana. It is said in the book that: “Greetings from a friend are like medicine” (Ontebetse, 2011, pg. 99). The is a relationship almost akin to the brothers of Moses and Aaron in the Bible. As Jay sees himself called on by the gods to save the CKGR and his Barsawa people, so too goes the original story of the Old Testament of God calling upon Moses, with Aaron’s help, to bring the Hebrews out of Egypt. The book The Trial of the Gods (Ontebetse, 2011) reads just as excitingly as The Book of Exodus in the Bible.

Reviewed by Bashi Letsididi in Mmegi, Volume 28, #146 of 30 September, 2011. Botswana

By any reckoning, Roy Sesana is an international name-brand human rights super star. Minus a few setbacks, the last couple of years have been mighty good to the First People of the Kalahari leader. He has won the Alternative Novel Peace Prize and was the public face of a successful campaign to have his people return to the sylvan setting of the Central Kalahari Game Reserve (CKGR).

This year, as keynote speaker at the Botswana National Front conference in Tsabong, he became the first CKGR to headline a national meeting of a major political party. Now courtesy of Khonani Ontebetse, a local journalist, Sesana has been immortalized in imaginative literature. The plot is framed around the marathon High Court case in which, to paraphrase a rhyme-inclined wordsmith, the Mosarwa activist showed distinction to prevent the extinction of his people.

In the novel, Sesana gives power and voice to a powerless community locked in an asymmetric battle with a ruthless and arrogant Third World government. The latter looks upon this resistance with strong disfavour and as a result, Sesana and other Basarwa become victims of acts of escalating physical violence, part of a pattern of predation that mostly takes place inside the CKGR.

Through rationalizations and justifications, the government has imputed a false benignity to the forcible removal of the Basarwa from their land its bossy-boot officials spend a shameful amount of time trying to manipulate them in abandoning their ancient lifestyle and acculturating Tswana/Western identity. It matters little to the government that this lifestyle change is neither consistent with the Basarwa’s own aspirations and desire nor that it would erode their centuries old cultural identity.

Of course, there is no mention of Sesana in The Trial of the Gods, but there is absolutely no doubt who Jay Setlhare is in this realist, character-based novel. Nor is there any uncertainty who the other characters are. In real life, Sesana’s right hand and personal interpreter, Jumanda Gakelebone, has a special type of front teeth-rampant pearly whites similar to the ones you see hanging from the open mouth of a champion international marathon runner smiling all the way to the finish line. In the novel’s thinly veiled portrait, Gakelebone is cast as Jamana whose ‘protruding teeth’ the author seems to take great delight referring to constantly.

When the CKGR case came before the Lobatse High Court, the panel of judges was made up of Justices Maruping Dibotelo, Unity Dow and Mphapi Phumaphi. The judge characters are Matlotla Ditiro, Antoinette Brown and Pamani wa Pamani. The State was represented by Sidney Pilane, while Sesana and co-applicants were represented by Gordon Bennett and Duma Boko. Throughout, Ditshwanelo, the local human rights group, took active interest in the CKGR case.

The Trial of the Gods: “My Lords,” said the British lawyer as soon as Judge Ditiro had focused his eyes on him. “My names are Garden Benny.” He paused as the three judges jotted down his names. “I will be representing Jay Setlhare and the other 241 applicants, all former residents of the Central Kalahari Game Reserve or CKGR and accompanying me is the instructing attorney, Dumelang Phoko.”

“I’m Saede Peolwane,” said the State lawyer, getting up. Some 100 pages in, Jay makes the equivalence of a beautiful, light-skinned, bespectacled woman called Lillian from Ditshwanelo Human rights Group who speaks “in the manner of a white woman.” Jay mentally notes that she must have gone to elite private schools and be the daughter of a rich politician. In real life, who might Lillian be? Who? Exactly. That’s her.

This meeting comes at a time of great emotional turmoil for Jay, but what it is worth, the mere sight of Lillian warms the cockles of his heart and he gets all fidgety around her. Far away from Lillian, Jay meets the challenge he is facing with great fortitude and certitude as he barnstorms through First World Capitals to advance his campaign platform. Back home he has to leap over a series of nerve-ending obstacles and crises.

A disruptive presence at public meetings addressed by government officials and in the courtroom itself, Jay is in a wretched mood for most of his waking hours, blithely lobbing loose-cannon, anti-establishment declarations every which way when the urge seizes him.

Under normal circumstances, the opportunity to sink his teeth into the soft and salty joy of fresh eland meat would have reduced him to a Pavlovian dog “but his appetite was not for any kind of food.” So even when Jay’s favourite daughter, Lorato, brings him a plate of this desert delicacy, his salivary glands remain dry.

However, the narration does find its moments of comic gold that provide for both a chuckle and a gleeful peek into Jay’s mind. Recalling a time when he was flown into the CKGR in a helicopter for a court session, Jay tells Jamana that he got completely disoriented and confused.

“Either something went wrong that day or it was the way it was planned,” he says.

There is liberal use of the flash-back technique in the novel, but the literarily literate reader would be disinclined to marvel at its occurrence even in scenes invested with urgency, even when detail that is absolutely essential to the moment is all that is required.

Just when a hunting expedition is about to pounce on two springboks, the narration is inter-cut with a flash-back vignette as a European prince - who has tagged along for the thrill - reminisces about a not terribly eventful episode in the past. This distraction not only slows the down the narrative momentum but also bends the spine of the plot structure out of shape.

Jay’s fortune wax and wane with the back-and-forth of the legal process and wax brightest when the court casts a resounding vote in Basarwa’s favour. While one expects the outcome to deliver joy and happiness to his soul, Jay does not bask in the glory of this moment because by degrees, he comes to realization that he has been pursuing a fool’s errand.

The court victory should have been a first step towards reinvention, but it occurs to him that the mores and folkways of CKGR folk will never be restored to their pure form: the ground on which they were relocated had destroyed them entirely. At a trance dance ceremony days earlier, the prophecy of the medicine man had been dark and apocalyptic: “I foresee more danger. The land will no longer be useful to our people even if we win the case.”

The recurring theme of the trance dance, the Basarwa healing dance that is said to induce spiritual ecstasy, serves as a meta-narrative: that being a narrative within a narrative. The dance is set into the fabric of the community primarily because it embodies the spirit of unity.

In the end, Jamana drops a few not so smart bombs and in the process probably reveals more about himself than he remotely does about the targets he wants to blow to smithereens. He suggests that the intervention of local organizations on their behalf actually amounts to little more than enlightened liberal tribalism. He tells Jay: “After all, aren't their leaders cattle barons? They want nothing more than seeing us being their herd boys.” He adds that he has realized that Survival International, a British pressure group, has just been using them for its own gain.

“Why didn’t you say so when the campaign started?” Jay asked.

“Because I enjoyed the international trips.”

For Jay, the revelation that his most trusted aide is little more than a commercial performer comes as a severe blow.

By appealing to the better angels of our nature, The Trial of the Gods satisfies the moral purpose of fiction in that it provides a decent platform on which readers can raise their social conscience. It forces them to introspect on the corrosive effects of greed and abuse of power on not only the lives of the victims but also on the minds and souls of the culprits.

In a matter that vividly recalls all the wisdom invested in the saying "what is good for the goose is not good for the gander", the novel articulates helpful meaning of development and societal progress. It also throws into sharp relief the practical meaning of concepts such as national unity and multiculturalism in situations where there is no equality between social groups and when cultures are different as night and day.

The book’s commanding use of historical facts and context helps the reader rethink the idea of Botswana as the democratic vista it is internationally reputed to be.

However, built into the texture of this narrative format, is an inconvenience that craps the author’s writing style. A fictional re-imagining of Sesana’s epic struggle that, in the main, hews close to what actually happened necessarily limits creative imagination. It dictates that readers well-acquainted with the CKGR saga don’t have to hold their breath for plot twists and suspenseful moments.

At this point, Ontebetse, who is winner of the 2008 Bessie Head Literature Awards, is the only Motswana writer in the Nsemia Inc. Publishers' stable.

Thursday, 03 November 2011 00:15 BY KHAINGA O'OKWEMBA

We wear the mask that grins and lies-Paul Lawrence Dunbar

The pen is mightier than bullets. It can make the world a better place. It can transform the life of an individual for better. It can maim and destroy. We have been taught to use it responsibly; to promote understanding and mutual respect between people; to dispel race, ethnic, class, gender, and national hatred. When I put my fingers on the barrel of the pen, it is to guide it towards a greater goal; to roll it towards affinity and love amongst all people; to walk the path of a singular universe and one humanity.

I have created the ideal world, far removed from the world we live in. Let us come down to earth. The story is told of a renowned Kenyan scholar who was on an academic tour in a South Asian country. Well informed in his field of study, highly visible in academia, respected and accorded the status of an oracle at home, the university don had been gracious and generous to his hosts, particularly on matters pertaining to education systems. One day he accompanied a handful of his hosts on a field tour.

During the tour one of his companions lost a wrist watch. Being the only African in the group, our good professor had to suffer the indignity of being singled out and suspected of stealing the little luxury. How sudden and dramatic! “Racism” he told me in an interview, “can be subtle.” The Kenyan was a victim of racial prejudice. However, he responded by “masking” his humiliation and disbelief. The “mask” is an age old form of resistance. Throughout the history of human civilization, victims of oppression have been known to wear the mask as did the slaves; to hide their pain, feelings, furry, dreams, as a shield and as a means of survival and plot a fight tomorrow.

Had this incident happened to Mary Louise McCarthy, a Canadian of African heritage, she would have wrought her wrath to the perpetrator. Mary is an outspoken activist. Mary is a post-colonial feminist theorist whose dissertations in patriarchy and colonialism exposes race and gender biases directed at females, and Africans in Diaspora. As a descendant of the Tran-Atlantic Slave trade, she says that her tribe in Canada has suffered no less than the African American.

In her book, Releasing My Critical Chatter: An autobiographical narrative from black diaspora , Mary draws our attention to her personal experiences as a child, as a student, as a black woman, and as a working middle class, to show the different forms and levels of racial and sexist prejudices in modern societies. A joke that is often times viewed as a harmless stereotype may in fact be a form of systemic racism or sexism. The “critical chatter” is Mary’s effort to “unmask” prejudices perpetuated against women and blacks. The chatter calls for respectability in human relations.

Using black feminist thought, Mary turns her individual experiences as a black woman into theoretical materials to explore and show how racism and sexism are embedded in everyday life. The experiences or 'moments' open our eyes to the different forms and layers of marginalisation and attack of disadvantaged groups and communities as vestiges of patriarchy and colonialism: “I analyse the moments through critical black feminist theory to name my own reality and to reveal how my experiences connect to larger institutional structures and colonising practices” she writes. Through poetry and prose Mary Louise McCarthy defines herself and champions social transformation.

NB: This review appeared in The Star newspaper of Nairobi, Kenya on November 3rd, 2011.

A Book Review by Donna Kakonge

In the beginning of this story, the old is questioned by the new in ways of thought, and living. Jaspher Rori, a former high school teacher and currently is working on another book, the old represents the ways of Manga, Kenya. It is a village where drinking home-brewed beer, smoking tobacco and siring many children takes place. Children, many of them, are a good source of labour. It is especially so if they are boys that can go look after cattle, the measure of wealth in Manga. Enter the ways of the new – white missionaries.

With the Bible in one hand and a gun in the other, the missionaries preach the glory of Jesus Christ absolving all of their sins. Missionaries’ brand of education is offered as the route to a prosperous life.

“Indeed, the message was enticing. But the Gusii had known engoro, their god, as the source of life, all knowing, all present and powerful. He and only he directed their lives and knew even where the wind slept. He lived high beyond the sky from where he watched over them and directed their lives. He was a god of mercy and plenty, and when not pleased with the people, he rained disaster as a lesson. Therefore, they knew how to please him through regular sacrifices and rituals.” (Rori, 2011, pg. 2-3).

The white missionaries insisted, while holding their guns, that Jesus Christ was more powerful. Thus, schools were built in the village, not just in Manga but also across Kenya. Gusii lost its offspring to classrooms. Wealth generation ground to a halt as resources were used to build missionary schools. And children could attend those schools, rather than tending to their farms and cattle.

In villages outside Manga, there were those achieving high levels of success, defined by the white missionaries’ promises. Government officials, doctors and lawyers they were becoming. Until Musa came along, the first from Manga to go to university, the village was losing hope. Musa is the beacon of hope. His light flickers like the embers’ creep through wood for a campfire in the rain.

When Musa leaves to go to university there is a lot of anticipation. Here he meets Judy, a woman of promise for both Musa and herself. They graduate successfully as their friendship and a spiritual bond of love blossoms, and promise to keep in touch! As happens, however, with so many young lovers, the promise fails.

Both Musa and Judy aim to ride the wheels of fortune in Nairobi. “Village ways” must mutate into the glossy western success standards of the city. It is a life that, at the core, appears to care less about the means rather than the end. Judy falls into a devastating snare of drug trafficking that ruins her career. Musa gets better success as he rises to finally achieve the dreams of Manga and the true beacon of hope his village had been waiting for.

On a personal note, this book helped me to understand why so many people hold the idea that Africa does not work as a continent. Could it be because people focus on getting their way, focusing on the end, regardless of the means to get there? My father would often tell me stories about how wonderful his homeland of Uganda was when the British ruled. He would give examples of milk being delivered to the door and buses running on time. For those of you who remember Idi Amin, the comparison to British rule is maddening. In Jaspher Rori’s book, he does not discuss the often bemoaned “brain drain” of the African educated elite. He, however, focuses on Musa, who grasps at trying to make his family, his village and his nation of Kenya proud while he works in Nairobi. On a universal level, anyone who has ever struggled to find work anywhere in the world can relate to Musa, trying to be an adult, trying to find a good person to marry, and trying to be “successful” by white missionary standards. Why does Africa not work? Read the book to give you some insight.

By Khainga O'Okwemba

Khonani Ontebetse is a contemporary writer from Botswana. He won the Bessie Head Literature Award (2008) with his novel Born with a Husband. Bessie Head (1937-1986), a child of trans-racial relationship is a canonical writer in African literature. Thus Khonani does not claim premiership, he is treading a beaten path. What sets him apart is his understanding of emerging issues and how he treats them as a writer. He is satirical, humorous, and even grim in his portrayal of government officialdom.

In his novel The Trial of the Gods (Nsemia), Khonani reconstructs a court battle pitting a minority community in Botswana with the government. The Basarwa people live in the Kalahari Desert. The author presents the story of a backwardly indigenous people whose economic activity is limited to hunting and gathering. Among the Basarwa, “the eland is the most potent animal, close to the gods, and has immense spiritual power” of protection. “That power is present in the male fats,” like what some people associated with pork. The Basarwa’s socio-political life revolves around the sacred trance dance. Their clinging to traditional lifestyle is cause for contempt by those who have embraced modernity.

That lifestyle is ruthlessly disrupted by a deceptive government with the discovery of diamonds in the Kalahari. They are evicted forcefully; houses are demolished; locals are relocated. A remorseless “fat government” with “arrogant ministers” gets satisfaction in “naked pride,” and “enjoy monopoly on the knowledge of resources.” Political activist Jay Setlhare is harassed by government for making “serious allegations that the relocation is linked to diamonds.”

The motive of eviction is shrouded in secrecy. The people are promised piped water, electricity, nay, civilization! In new settlements, without skills, they become idle, are drawn to alcohol and prostitution. The work of NGOs in social welfare comes under sharp scrutiny and Khonani does not shy from asking the difficult question about the sincerity of its major players. Mistrust among the political class which threatens the struggle is a theme that runs through the narrative.

Khonani is a serious writer. He destroys the notion paraded by some writers that one must subject a good novel to a love story. However, it seems to me implausible that any person can be admitted to the hallowed shrines of ritualistic performance without first being purified.

A casual reading of the text belies a community where change is anathema, where women are confined to domestic chores and childbearing. But when we scratch the surface, we find that in fact, the community’s political sphere is embedded in women. Their role is poignantly captured in the characters of Qoero “a pillar of strength” whose mysterious death is “part of the struggle” and Mmese. “Mmese faced the sky, and seemed to be fascinated by it. Perhaps it was because there were many stars in the sky. They sparkled but ominously mocked her. They reminded her part of the truth.”

The truth comes from ancestors. The Basarwa will win, but there will be “more danger,” perhaps from mining activities. Reader, what do you know about the discovery of oil in Turkana? Some hapless and unsuspecting pastoralist may have been cheated out of land by a cabal of greedy speculators! In The Trial of the Gods, “Jay had learnt that the best kept secret in CKGR after all, was not the discovery of diamonds by the powerful and corruptible who wanted to come up with a new deadly route in humanity, but his people’s ancient simple lifestyle.” The pen is dangerous and can get that close!

NB: this review appeared in the Star newspaper of Nairobi on April 19, 2012

By Khainga O’Okwemba

If Moraa Gitaa had been born in Nairobi, she would be feted as the arch-spokesperson of the hobbling hobos from the dingy tenements of Eastlands - a people weighed down by pangs of want, but who continue to a accumulate a critical mass of the conscientised. Nominated for the prestigious Penguin Prize for African Writing in 2010 and winner of First Prize in Adult Fiction (2008) from the National Book Development Council of Kenya, Moraa’s arrival on the Kenyan literary landscape as a major novelist lays to rest any doubts about the evolution of the African novel and the generational shift in literary expositions. Here is a writer with the patience, perseverance and discipline needed to create vivid characters. Here is a contemporary Kenyan writer capable of bedazzling and cajoling the reader with a skillfully written and scintillating narrative. She is the best among her contemporaries and perhaps the only novelist. Who in the bedlams of Kwani, Storymoja and Amka is doing full-length novels?

In her poem Tomorrow’s Daughters, South African poet Lebogang Mashile equates the creative impulse to “climbing through the wooden shed of isolation” where the “robin’s song robs the writer of her sanity.”Such has been the hallowed home of Senegalese novelist Mariama Ba, and the body of African women writers whose voices pervade the spheres of life as “autonomous creative agents” standing in opposition to the lethargic “passive victim” label, fashionable in media and in academic seminars, but challenged by the editors of the anthology African Women Writing Resistance: Contemporary Voices. Moraa Gitaa has claimed her place in that wooden shed of isolation, from where she now serves the world “a drink brewed in an African pot,” as Prof Wanjiku Kabira says of her latest novel, Shifting Sands.

Set on the coral island of Mombasa, the reader hears the feminine voice of the author; sensitive, tender, loving, caring and concerned. While in the background of the narrative is the Indian Ocean whose unending echo follows the author like her own shadow. The sea after all embodies life and death. Born and bred in Mombasa, Moraa has turned her childhood town, often derogatorily associated with lazy people, into an admirable site of creative mores. Shifting Sands is the melody of the island. That island is magical; one imagines every visitor to Mombasa having to read Shifting Sands to know the island. Moraa has the mastery of the English language. She embellishes the narrative with proverbs and idioms learned from different African communities. Above all, the solidity of the novel rests on research. If there is an unpretentious modern story about Mombasa, it is to be found in Shifting Sands. Unlike most of her contemporaries who are superficial, Moraa has distinguished herself as a serious writer. She is fearless and critical.  She is a major writer from Kenya who deserves more critical attention.

Shifting Sands is a story of sisterhood, and shattered dreams. It is the story of being there for a friend when they need you most. The story revolves around four childhood friends drawn from different Kenyan communities; African, Arab and Indian. The girls defy their socio-cultural differences to cultivate lasting friendship devoid of ethno-racial prejudices. Moraa’s characterization is striking. She’s not in the habit of namedropping to claim cultural integration. Rather, she shows deep knowledge of her characters’ beliefs and cultural norms as seen in Shilpa’s letter written from Mumbai where the Indian has been exiled by her parents to stop her from marrying an African.

The narrator Kemunto is a puritanical ploy; strong conviction and incorruptible. She sums her travails thus: “every scar on my body is a heliograph of pain, written in bloodied Braille so that humanity, blind as they come, can touch and try to read my pain.” The pain of losing a husband because of doubting his fidelity; pain of losing a job because of refusing to sleep with your boss; pain of losing a close friend  to death. Moraa’s thematic concerns range from religion, female circumcision, corruption, money laundering, drug trafficking, police brutality, Coast squatter question and such taboo subjects. Shifting Sands is a must read for literature students. The book is published by the Canadian based Pan-African firm Nsemia Inc. Publishers. It is available in Kenyan bookshops.

Khainga O'Okwemba is a columnist with The Star newspaper, and President of PEN Kenya, a member of the world association of writers.

This article first appeared in the Lifestyle Section of the the Star, a Nairobi newspaper of February 7th, 2013.

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