It was end month and I was down to my last thirty shillings. Truth be told, you can easily starve here in this mean Nairobi of ours. Of course, I looked slimmer and had lost considerable weight. A malicious neighbour would have said I was sick while I kinder one would have sympathised with the rising cost of living. My immediate neighbour would have advertised to everyone in the plot that there were days I wasn’t cooking supper. And how would she have known? Because there was a small gap that separated our two single rooms constructed out of mabati (iron sheets). On days I didn’t cook supper, she didn’t’ complain of sneezing caused by my frying of garlic and pepper – which made me drink lots of water to fill up the remaining space in my belly after I had done eating my skimpy supper of sukuma wiki and ugali . Despite skipping supper for a whole month, here I was, down to my last thirty shillings. The year was 2010. My audit, meal-wise: the Toss container still had some tea le