MARRYING FOR GENES
Disclaimer; this is not for the ugly hearted
Schooling on a different island as that of your people does not give you the comfort of witnessing the most cherished moments. You miss out on birthdays, outings and family drama- importance in reverse order. With this absentia, comes with a lot of making up to do with twice the effort as you are solely charged with the responsibility of seeing each activity through successfully.
Two newborns down the line…..
It is standard procedure that every time you are in the vicinity of Buruburu phase 1; you ought to visit Cucu (maternal grandma). She has probably lived there longer than the lifeline of all our Facebook accounts combined and more days than your Instagram followers. Quite the champ, she has six children and from them over ten grandchildren, 5 great grandchildren (whom I know of, giggles).
Visiting new mothers empty handed is synonymous to going to the lavatories without toilet paper. Just doesn’t feel all the way correct. My mother tells me of the sexes of the newborns prior so I shop for the right clothes. Same day I am to see these bundles of joys for the first time. First of all, girlie clothes have flooded the market no contest. Rongai being the hub of all fine and greater things, I indulge philanthropically in getting them the cutest baby clothes.
I hijacked my friend, Dundee in the escapade, little did she know the trips we were about to make. First stop, my sister’s place. Categorized the different clothes and folded them in such a way I would simply pick and drop at the different houses. Off we went to Cucu’s place. She is not the traditional ‘hey how are you’, Adele song type of woman. The first comment therefore doesn’t come as a surprise. (Dundee’s second encounter) as we walk in;
‘Mbona mumeishiwa hifyo?’ (Why have you lost so much weight?) She asked in utter disbelief.
We giggled away the question awkwardly but God knows a woman on a mission never stops at round one. She preempted my normal response ‘ni shule’. Deep down all she wanted to give us was her famous githeri and uji in the flask placed on the dining table. We were not even perturbed by this line of questioning. It’s a routine call every time I visit her and I made peace with that fact. She went on to remind me of the days I would break the scale in High school and doesn’t understand why I look miserable.
‘I look fabulous Cucu’ I told her with a feigning grin on my face.
We went on and on, getting lost in our conversations. I was almost forgetting my main agenda of the day. In this chatter, I discovered her favorite color was blue as we were going down memory lane. Safe to say we share more than blood and impeccable taste.
I showed her my business page-Blush Lounge.
Ni ya nini? She asked inquisitively
‘Its for shoes Cucu, utabuyia guka for his birthday?’
Birthday ya ki?
Hizi ni marefu ?(as she points to the thigh high boots)
‘Cucu hizo ndio za kusema’ I remarked
We both laughed.
Before we realized time had gone too long so we bid her goodbye as we headed on to tackle the next agenda of the day. My cousin happens to live in the same area as my grandma- the level of convenience was staggering. We met up with my two family members who were familiar with the routes and left a cloud of dust behind.
Heavens! The beauty that baby was is somewhere engraved on my heart with sparks from the 4th of July lighting up in my head every time I remember her. Baby Nolan will steal your heart, mind, soul. Siku za mwizi ni arobaini but for Baby Nolan, it’s more like eternity. Her mother’s warm welcome was well received and her smile only spoke of the tales she had with her baby.
Nolan rested comfortably watching some cartoons with weird sounds (the moment you come face-to-face with your age). The rain had other plans for us and my cousin K was worried we won’t see his child in time so we jetted to the stage bidding Dundee goodbye. Little did I know the trip that I signed up for. But I optimistically and somehow apathetically followed them to the light at the end of Buruburu.
Note; never trust a man with long strides when they say ‘ni hapa tu’
We boarded a bus to rounder and alighted at the first stage, took another bus, alighted thereafter. I don’t know at what point I stopped counting and crisscrossing that we finally arrived at the main stage.
In all this, I am still carrying baby Samara’s clothes and a whole house in my bag. I cannot verbally or in written form explain the level of exhaustion I was on, but mama didn’t raise no weak child. We treaded to the house, went up a couple of stairs and voila!
Baby samara delicately lying in her arms suckling her mom was the sight that greeted us. The melanin, Somali-like hair, the huge gorgeous eyes, her tiny arms reaching out- Samara was a goddess in human form. Of course I had to hold the baby, I took a waft of Samara’s baby smell and it was then I knew that I got to get one of these for myself.
If you are over 5’9 with gorgeous eyes please drop your application letters here, no payments and no babymama drama. All I envisage is her stunning eyes and adorable smile when one of her cousins playfully engaged her. We sooner rather than later had to depart; catching a flight to Rongai can be quite the bustle.
You can’t say you have love for the family unless you have crossed three counties just to sees them for five minutes. Can I get an Amen? (type it below)
Three days after that my sister refers to baby Nolan as a he and that is when I realized I had failed as a sex detector. Apparently my mother misinformed me when she said baby Nolan is a girl and Baby Samara is a boy. I still remember how my jaw dropped in slow-motion. Somewhere in Buru Buru there is a boy dressed as a girl and a girl in Thika dressed as a boy.
I thought about telling my two cousins to make the switch but the awkwardness that would ensue was just not worth it. So here I am with my baby fever hotter than Rihanna’s look during the met gala and reputation like that of a neurological map of a mad man. But can we say amen to all the new parents this 2018, my cousins and Kylie Jenner alike; A little prayer to all those babies who are not with us now. My mum who almost made me the instigator of gayism in our family and my Cucu who is so bomb that I call her Alshabab when she is not within my 100 meters, we appreciate you.