I still remember that day vividly. It was a sweltering afternoon in Kilimani, Nairobi, and I was in the garden, tending to my son Brian, who was playing near the small vegetable patch I had planted. Life had been peaceful — at least I thought so. My neighbors were friendly, our kids played together, and I felt safe in my community.
But over the past few weeks, strange incidents had been happening. Brian’s toys would disappear mysteriously, small cuts would appear on his clothes, and he complained of being “watched” when he played outside. At first, I thought it was just typical neighborhood mischief, but the feeling in my gut told me something was wrong.…CONTINUE READING
