Wangeci, Mathare, and the Chicken Head Nights

If you’ve never lived in Mathare, let me paint it for you:

Silver sheets apartment. Yaan mabati walls that sing when it rains, and when it’s hot, you feel like you’re being roasted with the sukuma wiki outside.

Toilet ni ya kwa corridor, and the landlord’s dog knows everyone’s business before you do.

That’s where Wangeci and I built our thing.

Money was tight. Brokie level 1000. My wallet had more dust than cash. But Wangeci didn’t care about that.

She’d come over with a 50 bob note and say, “Leo tutacheka na ile tunaweza.”

So we’d do what every Mathare couple does: improvise.

Oranje — the cheapest soda — chilled in a basin with cold water.

And chicken? We couldn’t afford a whole one, so we bought legs and...