I was socialised Gikuyu.
Growing up in the Kiambu of the eighties, all I ever wanted to be was a blinged out Gikuyu.
I wanted the Datsun twero, the ‘Godfather’ hat, the cowboy boots.
And when I heard that there was a Gikuyu, with a big bar in America called Kilimanjaro, I didn’t pause to marvel, just upgraded my dream. Me, two Friesians and a goat. Behind a picket fence in Dallas.