He asks me where I am from and I tell him, Kenya. There is immediate sadness on his face and after looking at me directly through the reflection in the…
In cases of suicides, what is required is deeper communal healing work that goes beyond messaging of solidarity, hope and calling on experts. Most are really gone by then, already checked out of a miserable life, simply waiting for a final trigger that will hand them the permission to check out. If there was ever a metaphor for a death wish, then suicide is its manifestation.
The corporate man doesn’t just lose his career; the loss extends beyond a paycheck. It is a combination of so many other things. Relationships, access, the activity, the busyness that gave our lives a sense of importance and loss of a secure future. The physical death in comparison seems to be a kinder prospect.
To my brothers, who heard the suppressed cry, The heavy, muffled cough in my voice, When my world collapsed and turned all grey, When the clock of my soul froze…
This book is essentially a communal act of mourning, a collective ritual of remembrance. I return to my Kenyan public in humble service, after years of introspection. Writing about death and loss was not a choice; it was an inevitability. It was the only way for me to heal, and in doing so,I hope to create a space for others to find the strength to confront their own suppressed sorrows borne from loss. This book is not about giving answers, but about inviting my readers into a long overdue conversation, a public acknowledgment of our shared humanity in the face of death.