A few weeks ago, I drove my family to one of our cities for a short holiday. My undergraduate alma mater is less than an hour’s drive from this city. I could barely resist the urge to show my son and daughter around my former college, a tour whose culmination was a visit to my first room as a First Year student there.
I walked into this hostel and knocked on the door of room 21, and a young man, Chrispine Omondi gladly welcomed us. The two kids were excited, swinging on Chrispine’s bunk bed and asking a flurry of questions of where I slept, ate and hung clothes. It was brief but intense. But more shocking was to see how deplorable and run-down the formerly tidy hostel was.