I was excited as the road converged into a two-way,no longer the four lane superhighway. The bundus, shags,upcountry was waiting for me.My mother and my elder brother inclusive.
I marvel at the serenity of the bundus. How nobody lives in a hurry.The lack of the hustle and bustle.Only in shagz will you find grown men lying on the roadside grass,sticking grass straws in between their teeth,observing passing cars.
And then there's yams!Let's talk about yams.Who eats yams? I do! And occasionally I find them tasty.Key word being occasionally. My mother, on the other hand, would live for yams. Breakfast, lunch and dinner she can manage them.She will crush them mercilessly with her teeth and maintain a smile on her face. We made a stop over next to some guys selling roasted yams. They did the normal running to the window, steaming hot yams in hand, for us to make our picks.Mum made her choice and I handed them to her in the back seat. “Hukuli Bambu?” she calls me Bambu sometimes. These nicknames!! “Aii mum..have you seen that man’s palms?” Thing is..the guy’s palms were black.According to my mother, that wasn’t dirt but the effects of the heat from the roasted yams.I couldn’t process that.To me they were dirty!!Dirty!Maybe it was the Nairobiness in me!
We went to the farm during our visit.Much of the land cultivated,some of it uncultivated.I walked my Nairobi legs on the upcountry soil.Round and round I was taken,being tutored on which plants produced what. Blackjacks on my Nairobi trousers.Those blackjacks took me down memory lane.My years as a small girl. How we'd live for the sight of black jacks on our dresses and socks as we walked home from school.How we'd intentionally walk through tall grass just to get blackjacks on our bodies. I was shaken out of my reverie by an upcountry thorn-on my foot.(That sounds like a phrase in those compositions we wrote in class eight eeih?The phrases that would earn you five marks.Shaken out of my reverie.Sigh!) It had pierced through my Nairobi shoes.Those thorns definitely know what they were created to do.At some point the sun was too hot.I had to sit my Nairobi bum down.I actually almost fainted....Drama queen!I sat under the shade of a tree.The little benefits we hardly get in this city.The shade of a tree!
My paternal grandfather was born in 1914. Where were you in 1914? Ati you were busy being an embryo? Please stop lying to us! As a result he is almost a century old.That's the age of my mother and her two only sons put together. We had dinner with my gramps and granny one evening.Granny is about 10 years younger than gramps.Younger?Admit it that's funny! I spoon fed grandpa that night."Let me feed you today gramps,since I'm here," I said to him all the while smiling to myself.I'd actually managed to construct a full sentence in Kimeru without stuttering.Wohoo!You see, his hands have been too shaky of late,in addition to the fact that his eyesight is failing him.My cousin was that night exempted from the "feeding gramps" job.So spoon after spoon we went, while we told stories. Feeding a 99 year old is really a walk in the park.I say this becasue meal time with Jeff is,on most days, characterized by running after him with a spoon in my hand, cajoling him to chew and swallow, him insisting on feeding himself, me refusing at times, him sulking and rubbing friends with me, me trying to make up with him.Jeff can you get to 99 already!
Gramps turned to address grandma at some point. "Kwani hukuli leo?" he asked in Kimeru as he strained to scrutinize her plate which was half empty.In the modern age that would have been “Aii babie!Kwani you’re not eating?” She looked at him for a while and responded, "Sasa wewe na hizo macho zako hazioni.Si ninakula!Huoni?” Turns out 90 year old grandmothers can also be sarcastic.There was laughter in the room. Gramps laughed too.
I sat there admiring this old folks. I realized that even after approximately 70 years of marriage they still goofed around and laughed at each others' jokes. Married for 70 years.Do I really want to stay with one person for 70 years? See the same face every morning for 70 years? Smell the same person for 70?70 years of intense disagreements,make ups,joy,pain…70 years!
I thought about that two week old relationship I had, not too long ago, and couldn't help but redden in embarrassment.I sat there wondering how they made it through this far.One thing kept coming to mind.They have God in between them.My grandfather was a preacher man.Still is at heart,maybe just not physically strong enough to stand before a congregation and give a sermon.The fear of God in his and his wife’s heart must have something to do with their lasting marriage.I think relating with other human beings can be complicated.More so when you fall in love and become vulnerable to another person.It takes the fear of God not to handle the other person recklessly.To remain faithful and love them right,to be able to resolve agreements peaceably, among other things!That takes a lot of God!
My gramps and granny are now being taken care of by their children and grandchildren.That brought another question to my head.Do I really want to live to the age where I shall be spoonfed? "Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. Honor your father and mother,which is the first commandment with a promise.So that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth. (Ephesians 6:1-3) It’s actually a blessing to live long.Life in itself is a blessing.So yes.I want to live long enough to see Jeff’s children.
I got home and was greeted by a pimpled Jeff. A large fat one on his nose!
Adolescent already?
I was only away for two days!!
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