Getting better, or is it?

We were supposed to spend the night in Naivasha (in the records that is). But no one wants to spend the night in some strange place, while we can simply drive to Nakuru, and be in Naivasha for the training the following morning. We actually consider passing through Kericho directly to Nakuru but that option is left out as a colleague and the driver would like to buy charcoal. They are not sure whether the same is available along the route we are about to take. So we end up using the very route that we used while coming here; Naivasha.

I am really disappointed as I wanted to go round mount Longonot, but also sort of relieved that with luck, I might be able to enter some of the data we have collected into the system. So, Naivasha route it is!

We get there at around five and set our machines in one of Labelle inn’s workshop where the training is to take place the following day. I manage to do everything, or so I think till we are on the way home and I realize that some bits are not yet done. But not to worry, we’ll be early the following day, like people who spent the night in the town.

I get home at eight to find that my grandma has already left to a funeral she was to attend. My grandpa opens the gate after five minutes of honking; he thought I wasn’t coming back till Sunday.

I get into the kitchen and my uncle is warming Mukimo (the staple food in my land). Did I say my uncle? Well, I don’t call him that; he is only five years my senior, and hard as I may try, calling him that does not sound good at all. There are two other men in the house. I don’t know them and I don’t ask. I later come to know that they are workers. I can’t remember though the work they were doing; something to do with making hay.

When I start serving the food, my grandpa says that he will be taking ugali. I look up and the man is already armed with about three litres of sour milk!

“Ok,” I agree, “so, where is it? The ugali?”

“It will be cooked,” he replies.

I know only too well that what he means is that I should cook it. So I start boiling the water. When it’s ready, I look for the flour but cannot find it! My uncle joins in the search and is no luckier.

“It’s got to be somewhere in this house!” is all the encouragement we get from the old man.

That is until he exclaims loudly, “Crap! Your grandma told me to go to the maize mill earlier! I totally forgot!”(Well, not in those exact words, but something close to that.)

“Great!!” I whisper to myself.

I am very pissed of. But he is my grandpa and has to eat.

I prepare pan cakes for him and he is very pleased with his grand daughter. And they ask why I am such a blessed girl!

I retire to bed early. I’ll need the rest, for tomorrow will be a tough day. It is not easy to address people when the training comprises of two ladies, a girl (me), and over thirty serious looking men!
Talk about a glass ceiling!!

2 comments:

  1. good!! u really are a writer...a tallented one for this case.u already told me this story..remember??av loved the way its on paper..or screen...whatever.waiting 4 keshos.

    ReplyDelete

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