MY GRANDMOTHER :)
She is 90+ years. No one knows for sure. She has an idea when she was born, but not a certain year. When i think of 90 years......that's a long time! It is triple my years plus more.....that's a really long time.
My siblings and I are closer to my grandmother more than most of my cousins, this is because she brought us up during our earlier years (between 3-10). She removed my first tooth - and it was a long tale. She had to chase me up a tree, because i was so scared and hard headed :). She would make sure we had enough breakfast before school and that our uniforms were clean. She fed us, took us to the farm, showed us how to cook, carry out chores and most importantly, she took us to church.
I was a member of the Sunday school. I still remember my teachers, one even got married to my uncle, she was teacher Peninah. There was also Shem, a man, strict but very effective in his teachings. We were involved in dramas and this were particularly intense during Easter and Christmas seasons. We also held competitions with other churches in other areas; those were good days, carefree and we were so innocent! At that time my grandmother was a church elder. She would travel, host pastors and she was involved in almost every function in the church. She was known far and wide. She was fearless, a disciplinarian, generous, tough and a force to recon with. She was known humorously as the woman who was a man :). She had lost her husband early in her life and she had single-handedly brought up her children. Many a man had tried to court her but her energy and authority were something most of them were not ready to deal with. They were accustomed to the humble submissive woman.......she was open minded and she could speak her mind whenever. They walked away and never looked back....or so i think, i mean, i would have had another grandfather, right?
She was brought up in a pagan family where traditions were deeply rooted and followed to the letter. This were the early days just when the missionaries were taking over Eastern Africa. She was against most of the traditions, she knew most of the things like FGM were wrong. She knew witchcraft was wrong, she longed to be redeemed. One of her uncles had traveled and discovered about the word of God. He introduced this to the people of their village and my grandmother immediately converted to Christianity. This is what she had been seeking all along. She saw the light she always knew existed but had not found. She became obsessed with this new found belief. She fed on the Bible, she went to school for the grown ups, so that she could read the Bible. There was no looking back. This caused a rift between her and her family but she did not care. Hard as it was, young as she was, she had found the truth.
In an attempt to change her life, she ran away from her home in the hope of escaping circumcision and the yearning to get an education. One man, either a neighbour or family set her up and she was captured before she could go too far. When she tells of that incident, the look in her eyes tells it all. The pain of a future lost, of opportunities never to be had. She is a very bright woman, she would have been greater had she been allowed to pursue an education. Despite all that, she worked hard to ensure that her children did not go through what she went through. She sent all of them to school and she worked harder than anyone i know.
Another tale she tells is of how one day she and her sister spent the night in the forest, because she refused to be involved in some traditional rites that were carried out by a witch, to wade off evil. It was cold and they had to cover their frail bodies with their tiny skirts that were made of sheep's skin. She still wonders how they were not attacked by hyenas that wondered the forests at that time. Sometimes during her many story telling episodes, I get lost in them just as I do when I am reading a very captivating novel. She has lived.
She tells us of her own mother. Wangari, whose name my mother took. She was a giant, both physically and characteristically. She used to give birth all by herself. She would go to the farm pregnant and come back with a bag full of potatoes and a baby. Another time she woke up, went to the kitchen while everyone was still asleep early in the morning; and pushed a baby out, after it was out she called for help. That is strength. I can't even wrap my mind around that. Coming from such a mother, she had to be strong or be strong; and she was.
She is now losing her memory, the thought of it breaks my heart. She has grown frail, a shadow of her former self. I am very proud that I have her DNA. I am proud to be the bearer of her name. My prayer is that i will be half the woman she is. She is a warrior, a hero.
My siblings and I are closer to my grandmother more than most of my cousins, this is because she brought us up during our earlier years (between 3-10). She removed my first tooth - and it was a long tale. She had to chase me up a tree, because i was so scared and hard headed :). She would make sure we had enough breakfast before school and that our uniforms were clean. She fed us, took us to the farm, showed us how to cook, carry out chores and most importantly, she took us to church.
I was a member of the Sunday school. I still remember my teachers, one even got married to my uncle, she was teacher Peninah. There was also Shem, a man, strict but very effective in his teachings. We were involved in dramas and this were particularly intense during Easter and Christmas seasons. We also held competitions with other churches in other areas; those were good days, carefree and we were so innocent! At that time my grandmother was a church elder. She would travel, host pastors and she was involved in almost every function in the church. She was known far and wide. She was fearless, a disciplinarian, generous, tough and a force to recon with. She was known humorously as the woman who was a man :). She had lost her husband early in her life and she had single-handedly brought up her children. Many a man had tried to court her but her energy and authority were something most of them were not ready to deal with. They were accustomed to the humble submissive woman.......she was open minded and she could speak her mind whenever. They walked away and never looked back....or so i think, i mean, i would have had another grandfather, right?
She was brought up in a pagan family where traditions were deeply rooted and followed to the letter. This were the early days just when the missionaries were taking over Eastern Africa. She was against most of the traditions, she knew most of the things like FGM were wrong. She knew witchcraft was wrong, she longed to be redeemed. One of her uncles had traveled and discovered about the word of God. He introduced this to the people of their village and my grandmother immediately converted to Christianity. This is what she had been seeking all along. She saw the light she always knew existed but had not found. She became obsessed with this new found belief. She fed on the Bible, she went to school for the grown ups, so that she could read the Bible. There was no looking back. This caused a rift between her and her family but she did not care. Hard as it was, young as she was, she had found the truth.
In an attempt to change her life, she ran away from her home in the hope of escaping circumcision and the yearning to get an education. One man, either a neighbour or family set her up and she was captured before she could go too far. When she tells of that incident, the look in her eyes tells it all. The pain of a future lost, of opportunities never to be had. She is a very bright woman, she would have been greater had she been allowed to pursue an education. Despite all that, she worked hard to ensure that her children did not go through what she went through. She sent all of them to school and she worked harder than anyone i know.
Another tale she tells is of how one day she and her sister spent the night in the forest, because she refused to be involved in some traditional rites that were carried out by a witch, to wade off evil. It was cold and they had to cover their frail bodies with their tiny skirts that were made of sheep's skin. She still wonders how they were not attacked by hyenas that wondered the forests at that time. Sometimes during her many story telling episodes, I get lost in them just as I do when I am reading a very captivating novel. She has lived.
She tells us of her own mother. Wangari, whose name my mother took. She was a giant, both physically and characteristically. She used to give birth all by herself. She would go to the farm pregnant and come back with a bag full of potatoes and a baby. Another time she woke up, went to the kitchen while everyone was still asleep early in the morning; and pushed a baby out, after it was out she called for help. That is strength. I can't even wrap my mind around that. Coming from such a mother, she had to be strong or be strong; and she was.
She is now losing her memory, the thought of it breaks my heart. She has grown frail, a shadow of her former self. I am very proud that I have her DNA. I am proud to be the bearer of her name. My prayer is that i will be half the woman she is. She is a warrior, a hero.
Am very proud of her she is legendary...she shares the indelible story of my late grandmother who had several similarities with yours. Say hi to her for me
ReplyDeleteThanks a lot Kibet. We are privileged to have shared our lives with such people.
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