I’ve lived with a wound in my heart that no medicine could heal.
For years, people in my village would lower their voices when I passed. Some whispered, some stared, others boldly called me cursed.It all began five years ago.My wife and I were finally rising financially after years of struggle.
I had opened a spare parts shop in town, and customers flooded in. We could finally afford good food, pay school fees, and even build a decent home.That’s when death came knocking.Our firstborn daughter fell sick suddenly. One day she was laughing, the next she was in the hospital with a strange fever no doctor could explain. We took her to different hospitals Eldoret, Nakuru.To read more,click here
