Nestled in the misty hills of Kisii County, a sleepy village is buzzing with tales that blur the line between grief and the great beyond. At the heart of it all is Moraa Nyanchama, a resilient widow whose evenings turned into eerie symphonies after losing her beloved Peter in a heartbreaking crash on the Kisii-Nyamira road.
Peter’s sudden departure left a void, but his presence? That lingered in the most spine-tingling ways. Just days after laying him to rest right by their humble homestead – honouring every age-old rite they knew – the midnight hour brought unwelcome echoes. “It started with those familiar thuds,” Moraa shares softly, her voice laced with a mix of fondness and chills. “Heavy boots crunching gravel, similar to when he’d trudge home from the fields, bone-tired but smiling.”
At first, she brushed it off as weary imagination. Then came the creak of the gate swinging open on its own, followed by the scrape of his favourite wooden chair against the earthen floor. No breeze, no explanation. Her kids picked up on it too – the littlest ones huddled closer, wide-eyed. One stormy night, her teenage boy bolted awake, pale as moonlight. “Mom, it was him,” he stammered, pointing to the kitchen threshold where a hazy silhouette loomed, gone in a blink continue https://drbokko.com/?p=34263