The night before John Jackson proposed, he sat at his balcony in silence. He sat facing the cold and dark blanket of Kiwatule that was disturbed by flickers of lights from homes. He sat by himself. With a Martini. On the rocks. There was a...
I’m at Javas – Cafe Javas. The one in Lugogo. There are a million people here. As always. Each side of the eye is swarming with movement. Noise and chatter. The tables are now close to each other, you have to eat and hear the conversation on...
