“Nairobi does not launch products. It launches rumours that happen to have products attached.”
When a television preacher calls Nairobi the Sodom of Africa at three in the morning, event planner Wanjiru “Winny” Mwangi is on her balcony, newly dumped, newly awake, and about to start taking notes. What begins as a pact between three friends–this year, we date like we mean it–becomes a year of lessons the city never offered to teach gently.
A sponsor with a wife in Mombasa and a menu with no prices. A worship leader with a purity pledge in triplicate. An American whose kindness is mistaken for a passport. A founder who proposes with a map. And the ex who comes back, because in a city where everyone is leaving, coming back is the rarest currency of all.
Wry, tender, and alive to every sound of the city that never sleeps, ‘The Sodom of Africa’ is a story of three women learning to read the fine print; of their leases, their courtships, and their own hearts. It is about the difference between a price and a cost, between altitude and purpose, between a wedding and a marriage. And it is about the verse everyone skips: the one where Sodom isn’t condemned for wanting, but for neglecting the hungry at its gate.


































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