Last Saturday, I found my brother sitting in his backyard, drinking a cider and listening to some soapy ’90s RnB music. He said it was his wife’s birthday. He couldn’t leave, so I called my friend, who said he was at a place called Rixxos Bar, all the way in Kitengela. I felt adventurous.
I found Rixxos empty and sad. It felt like a doomed ship at the bottom of the ocean.
