My name is Kevin Otieno, and this happened in Siaya Town, in a small neighborhood near Nyang’oma Road. That day started like any other Sunday, except I had butterflies in my stomach. I was finally meeting Faith’s parents, the woman I had loved quietly for two years. I carried a small gift bag—maize flour, sugar, and tea, the best I could afford as a junior technician at a local avionics workshop.
Faith greeted me nervously. “Please, just be yourself,” she whispered as we approached her parents’ gate. I nodded, trying to hide my trembling hands. Mr. Ochieng, her father, sat on a wooden chair, arms crossed, exuding authority. Mama Auma, her mother, followed him, glaring as if she already knew what she didn’t like.…CONTINUE READING
