The last 200 bob

The Last 200 Bob

Akinyi woke up before the matatu horns started. That was her trick — beat the noise, beat the day.

She counted her money on the bed. Two hundred shillings. That was everything. Rent was in three days. The mitumba stall hadn't moved much stock since Tuesday. And her phone was on 4%.

She plaited her hair fast, wrapped her leso, and carried her bale to the stage.

By ten, nothing. People were window-shopping with their eyes and their hands but leaving with nothing. A mama picked up a blouse, checked the armpits, put it back. Akinyi smiled anyway. "Karibu tena."

At noon, a young...