One fine ‘summer’ day in Nairobi, I snuggled into bed after a filling Saturday afternoon lunch. Chapati, huge chunks of fried beef and sukuma-wiki (kale) is one of those meals which combined with a hot day in Nairobi, instantly makes your eyelids really really heavy. Sunday lunches just might be worse…. But that’s beside the point!
So, I snuggled into bed with my mum. >_< (Mummy’s girl alert!) I was asleep as soon as my head hit my mum’s bosom. *snores*
I woke up about 22 minutes later. I swear it was 22 minutes because I had barely slept, and there’s always that feeling I get when a number isn’t odd. If I set my alarm, I set is for 5.59. If I’m adjusting the volume it has got to be an odd number. So my odd number vibe didn’t click when I looked at the clock, and so I lay my head back down onto my mum’s boso….. Wait! WAIT! This isn’t my mum’s silky smooth perfumed cosy bosom!!! It is a flipping pillow!! A pillow! I freaked out. My heart started racing. Where was I? Where is mum? What happened to mum? My stomach sunk. I started tearing up. I was frightened. I ran downstairs and asked our help so feebly, “Wapi mummy?”. It was as if I was knew the answer would either make everything alright, or kill me! She promptly answered, “Ameenda Gikomba”.
Like it was nothing.
The events that transpired after that statement from the help are the most vivid moments of my childhood. I burst into tears! I WAILED so loudly. I cried and cried and cried.And then cried and cried and cried. Tears do dry up after a while right, and the crying stops? Mine, well, you could say they were persistent. I cried for a whole two hours. I was inconsolable. I cried Until my mum came back from Gikomba!
I was 3 years old.