Husband snatcher A story. The bus arrived two hours early, at four in the morning. He knew they had reached their destination when the conductor, sleepy eyed and grumpy, switched on the lights and paced up and down banging on the tin roof of the big, aging bus. Nobody protested, the passengers dutifully got up and started assembling their luggage. In twenty minutes, he too was in a fast moving que filing out of the bus. It hd been a long, bumpy ride, a painful journey, yet not an unfamiliar one. Uncaring to the other Kenyan passengers, this particular young, tall, skinny man-with blue-black bruises all over his face, aches and pains all over his body- had been travelling most of his short life. As he clutched his nice leather carry-on bag, which were all of his belongings, he knew this was the last time he was running. His life as a traveler was over, it decided and affirmed. Wanzu island was to be hi...