Growing up in some semi-urban centres in Rift Valley seemed a prestige, especially when we returned to the village during school holidays and saw the life others lived there.
We were rich, at least according to some people, but we also knew wealthier families back in town who
could afford holidays. Besides the village trips, a typical treat by my father would be a crate of soda and some yellowish scones taken in a golf course somewhere in Nandi Hills.