Edwin's Corner

It's early morning, and the rain is torrential, twelve hours of a downpour that is cleansing the soul. I am introspective in the gloom of the weather. I have been contemplating purpose. Why is it a difficult conversation for most, a fog that few ever venture into?   We all desire to be happy, and some say the pursuit of happiness is our true purpose. Is it possible to be happy all the time? Some say it is impossible, due to the many challenges and the issues of life, the constant turmoil with momentary instances of happiness. Let us take a moment and imagine the journey of purpose.  There was once a great mansion built many centuries ago. For a long while, it was the only structure for miles around, a great edifice of architectural marvel. It had many artifacts in its rooms. Some took days to appreciate, and some were hard to comprehend. In the mansion’s library, there was a secret door hidden on the wall.  Behind it lay a secret passage leading into anoth...

I have a theory, and kindly indulge me. Imagine a huge funnel, let us call it the friendship funnel, and in it, you pour all the people you have ever met and interacted with. Those you shared a meal with and had a conversation with. Those you thought, “I wouldn’t mind talking to that person again.” Then, those you didn’t have a good interaction with, from a slight discomfort to the other end of the continuum, where you pray to God you will never meet again.       Now! Imagine how many people these were. Was it a modest hundred or a decent thousand? Let's even be more specific, we meet most people when we are between 19 to 25. A year is 365 days, let's average meeting 4 people daily for 5 years, that’s about 7,300 people you can come into contact with if you were intentional about it at that age.   Please underline intentional because most of us are never intentional to the extent of encountering four new people every day. We are not wired to look for that m...

  When I was 17, I was asked to speak before a thousand people and share my thoughts on life. Back then, the only life I had known was trying hard to fit in, not sure where I belonged, and struggling to make sense of my environment. To cope, I turned to rap music, songs that violently demanded freedom and an equitable future, away from the harsh realities of American neighborhoods. In school, I was the oddball who knew of Wu-Tang Clan, Tupac, and OutKast. It was an identity I fully embraced to validate my existence. To be seen, heard, and appreciated. Until that fateful day, I was given the stage to mimic my heroes. Now I was required to give a speech. I racked my brain. How was I going to pull this off? I had seen movies where, on the fly, a hero would stand before a crowd and give a rousing speech.   Me! Now! How?  “I have a dream” is hailed as a masterpiece in rhetoric and is ranked as one of the top speeches of the 20 th century. The speech was delivere...

It was a cloudy, rainy morning. The clouds were heavy and expectant. I had run along the perimeter of a national park, my mind shrouded by the thought of meeting lions on the prowl. It didn’t help that I had been watching strange men on social media taking pictures and videos of lions while having morning tea while the lions passed by.        These and other thoughts kept me company in the silence, only interrupted by my breathing. In those moments, the need to speak to another person seemed alien. Yet when I transitioned from the lonely roads of Rongai, through Karen and back to my estate, and my run became a walk, a young man stopped me.  He seemed unsure, almost embarrassed. Yet his demeanor was confident, and his eyes spoke of an intelligence that sought attention.   “Excuse me, Sir, might you have a minute?” He hurriedly used the precious seconds before my surprise turned hostile or indifferent.   “I'm hungry and would apprec...

I had gone to Diani after a tough year, having lost my father. I was doing what I love at the beach, which is walking aimlessly with reckless abandon, while staring at the horizon. My head was empty. The ocean was calm, resembling a waxed turquoise floor.   At that moment, something occupied the periphery of my vision to the left. Many boats were near the beach, but this particular one stood out, as if it were an accident waiting to happen. It had a flat white top, with blurry insignia on the side, floating a kilometer away. Six foreigners, likely from the backpacking fraternity, were diving from the flat top, having the time of their lives.   I felt something get stuck in my throat, so I swallowed. It was a taste of disgust. I quickly looked at my feet, ashamed. As a rush of sadness bathed over me. I felt cleansed by the salty water slapping against my feet. I looked again to my left. They were still there enjoying the ocean while I was wallowing in mild depression....

Rebecca stood at the edge of a deep and steep ravine. She had walked the winding, lonely route to this point alone, lost in thought.  The view before her was beautiful. Majestic winding hills curved by a masterful hand. Shades of green and brown traded with yellow and grey as her eyes sought the answers she was looking for. Rebecca had seen tremendous success. She had climbed to the top, and still, something was not right. She held something in her hands, unable to carry it in her rucksack. I am wealthy. I am caring. I am happy. She had affirmed herself many times and had seen these come to light. ‘God said I AM.’ In this statement lies the infinite existence of God and the limitless possibilities present before man. Rebecca, from a young age, discovered she was many things: intelligent, charismatic, and curious, and she embodied these and many more. But as she stood there in awe, she wondered. “I may have forgotten who I am, or what I am, or where I am. But did I for...

“She was nothing to me, baby,” Robert said desperately. She didn’t look convinced. “She led me on and wanted me to have a relationship with her,” She shook her head. “She said that a good man should be shared.” Sandra had walked in on her husband of five years to find him in a compromising position with Hellen, a nurse she knew. Sandra and Robert were doctors. Sandra would have none of it. Neighbors reported later hearing screaming and cries for mercy and a deep groan like an animal going through a deathly ordeal. When they charged into the Airbnb, they were assaulted by a gory display of blood everywhere. Sandra sat at the dining table, numb and withdrawn from her surroundings. Her hands were on the table, with her right hand firmly holding a bloody slicing knife, which was missing from a knife set in the kitchen area a short walk away. Sandra was covered in blood. The blood trickled down and formed a meandering path into the corridor. Face first on the floor was Robert, with multiple...