It was supposed to be one of those happy days, as it had been for ten years every time Ian Muiruri emceed an event – bringing good vibes to the crowd, entertaining them, cheering them, hyping them up, and promising they’d have a good time.
But on this particular day, in front of a cheerful crowd, under the glare of stage lights, and carrying the weight of his own body, Ian stood clutching a microphone and two soaked white handkerchiefs, barely breathing. His heart struggled to beat, his voice faltered, his steps grew shaky, and sweat poured down like a torrent of rain. Every word felt like it weighed a tonne.
