Nayna.

On Sundays when Nayna doesn't work — and those are few — she does something that seems almost unbelievable to anyone who knows her from the workshop: she doesn't touch a tool all day. She takes the CB125, the Honda she rebuilt herself with a flashlight between her teeth at twenty, and drives south. Past Syokimau, where she lives, one room on a third floor with no elevator. Past Athi River, where she was born, where her father still sits in the doorway watching trucks go by on the A109. Past the gas station. And at some point, the road stops being road and becomes dirt.

The Kitengela plains have nothing. Short grass, spaced acacias, a sky that opens in every direction. Sometimes zebras. Sometimes nothing at all. Nayna parks the bike, sits on the ground and looks. An hour. Two. She doesn't think about the workshop or the rent or the 1985 Yamaha SR400 that's been dismantled in the back room for eight months. She doesn't think. And that, for someone who works in four-hour bursts without lifting her head, is the closest thing she has to actual rest.

There's something in that horizon that resembles how she works: a lot of empty space, and when something moves, everything focuses on one point. Cheetahs hunt that way, although Nayna would never use that comparison. What she would say, if you asked, is that she needs to see far away every now and then. That the workshop on Lunga Lunga Road has walls a meter and a half away and some days that gets heavy. And that the plains are free.

[Nayna's story](https://www.yagopartal.com/animal-kinhood/nayna/) has several layers, like the sweatshirt itself. Under the biker jacket she always wears a basic white t-shirt from Gikomba. Under the t-shirt, grease marks that don't come out completely. Under that, someone who lowers her voice when she gets angry and makes an involuntary purr when an engine starts clean. She's not easy to read if you don't know her well. Mama Amina, from the chai stall three doors from the workshop, has been serving her a cup every morning for years without asking her anything. She's the first to notice if Nayna doesn't show up one day.

Full printing means the image isn't screen-printed on top of the fabric: it's printed directly into the material before sewing. The result is a print that doesn't crack or peel with washing. It's not like a typical screen-print sweatshirt that looks different after the third wash. Here the portrait is part of the fabric. For composition details, care, and construction, the **Fabric, fit and construction** tab has what you need. If you're worried about sizing, **Size guide** sorts it quickly.

Nayna doesn't care about clothes. She buys t-shirts in packs of five and doesn't think much further. But the leather jacket is different. She got it with the money from her second rebuilt motorcycle, at Gikomba, and fixed it herself. There's a tear in the inner lining that's been there for two years. Nayna knows how to sew leather. She hasn't fixed it. Some things you don't fix and don't explain why.