would sing to him at times too. Leon was distinct. He was calm in his Father’s hands but fussy in his Mother’s. He had brown cocoa eyes and black curly hair. His eyes were the perfect set inherited from his Mother, but his face…that was a mystery. His face was gentle and eager, something that Michael was not. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t know that face. It was his grandfather’s face. Maybe that’s why he warmed up to Michael- they made peace. Leon stayed with us that month. He cried a lot for the next two months, but became jovial at the fourth. Nancy had a difficult time dealing with him. She yearned to go back to work, but Michael refused. Every evening they would talk about it and he would decline. I will give that woman credit for being determined. She kept on asking about it till their talks became arguments. Six months down the line and I pleaded with the world to kill me. Their arguments involved moving things and cursing each other. She would call him a stupid African man and he would laugh at her. He laughed at her for thinking she was modern yet she still bore African traits. It was the greatest insult Michael could have bestowed on her. I saw her look him in the eye, then say “thank you.” She walked out into the night. I never understood why he didn’t go after her. In fact Michael sat on me and slept till dawn. Nancy didn’t come home for a week. In that time, Michael had his niece taking care of Leon and she was as weird as they come. She slept on the floor and ate only ugali and some sweet potatoes. She was very good with Leon; in fact she was better than Nancy. Michael never called Nancy or talked about her. I found it odd that for a man who loved a woman; he would simply live his life as though she never existed. One evening as he watched Leon sleep he started talking. “Leon, your Grandfather used to say that women are like the wind. They blow in all directions. They can be a breeze or stir up a storm. Women are creatures full of love and pain. They are constantly at war with themselves. Don’t ever think you can fully know a woman, because that would be the greatest mistake you will ever make. Love her for who she is and let her breathe, let her know you are the Man, but be gentle when you scold her.” I heard much more about his Father that night. Nancy never came home, not for another week. When she did, she let herself in and then went into the kitchen to make supper. Michael came home at 7:00pm soaking wet. His niece handed him a towel which he accepted as he rushed to the bedroom. He took a shower and changed then came back to the living room. I watched him move around the room. He did what he wanted as though she didn’t exist. Nancy on the other hand, tried her best to make him notice her. Michael took a seat then asked for Leon and proceeded to tell him stories. When she brought him food, he asked his niece for tea and some bread. He ate what his niece served and then retired to bed later on. This went on for two weeks. I know he was hurt by her actions, but Nancy suffered a lot more in that period than anyone else. Leon wouldn’t let him hold her. It was as though she was s stranger. Michael’s niece was kind to her, but her husband did not acknowledge her presence. When she had had enough she confronted him one Sunday morning. “Michael, stop pretending that I do not exist!” I saw him turn and pick a magazine to read. “Michael, I am your Wife! I am talking to you!”
“Nancy, I don’t know who you think you are, but that title is something you have to earn and so far I am sad to say you have not.”
“Haven’t I come back home? Haven’t I been doing everything to show you that I am back home?”
“No, you came uninvited Nancy. I stayed with our son for a week and got help from my niece for the second week. You never called or sent me a post to show that you were still alive. So, what makes you think that you can just walk in and out of this house like you own it? What makes you think that I can trust you not knowing where you have been and what you have doing in the past two weeks? Tell me, is that how you deal with people? I asked you to stay home until we had Leon weaned then you could resume your post, but you wanted to be back at work so much that you abandoned your child for two weeks! Nancy, I think it is best if you leave. I will come looking for you when I need you.”
“Michael, I am sorry. I was angry at you. You insulted me Michael! I wanted time to think things through.”
“Two weeks and a baby is a lot of time Nancy.”
“I know, that is why I came back- I was too ashamed to look you in the eye or even talk to you. I know I am proud. My Mother used to call me a goat. She said I was as stubborn as that goat and maybe she was right. Michael, I have done so much in my life to fail at this. We can keep your Niece. She is good with Leon. I will get better at taking care of him, give me a chance Michael-and believe me when I say, I was at my Aunt’s place in BuruBuru. Forgive me Michael, please.” Michael held her hand and got her to her feet. The little girl managed to shed a tear or two as she watched them embrace. I looked at Michael and saw something else. He never forgave easily, but with Nancy, he caved in. it was the first time that I learned forgiveness is a process. It is not instant. For you to forgive, you have to let a part of yourself go. If you are the one who was wronged, it always is a huge part, and that part is always full of pain and anger.
September 1973
Nancy gave birth to twins: Jonah and David at the Kenyatta National Hospital, on September 12th at 3:00am. I braced myself for three months of screaming, but it never came. The boys were calm and very easy going with Nancy. Michael had a room made for them and they were constantly watched over by Leon. He ran into the room when they cried or tossed in bed. He often made attempts at holding them, no matter how many times he failed. Michael on the other hand was growing old. I mean he was finally embracing the family life. He listened more than he spoke. He often talked of building a home for them. He wanted to live somewhere far from the city. When he talked Nancy listened and sought clarification at every step. She had grown bright and beautiful. Her sharp tongue was calm now. She gained some weight, but nothing outside the ordinary. Her parents came to visit for a week when the twins were born. They helped see their first grandchild to school. I loved Leon. He was an observer, but I had the feeling that the twins would be trouble makers. It was evident in the way they lifted their legs, or laughed at the same time. Nancy’s parents were as inquisitive as the police. They asked the same question five different times. Most of them were geared towards Michael’s past. They wanted to know how he was orphaned and why he rarely visited his ancestral home. They asked if he had built a shed or house there. They also asked if he had any siblings. When he said he was an only child, those two looked at each other then stayed silent. Nancy’s Father was the one who asked what his future plans were. Michael told him he was building a permanent home in Kisumu. It was seven hours away from the city. It was a small town that would grow in the next three decades. The man went on to ask him what he would do about his job. Michael simply said he would keep working for the Government until retirement then move to Kisumu. They asked about his plans every hour. He told them the same thing every time. Nancy was their last born daughter. She was bright and the top in her class. They wanted him to promise that he would take good care of her. Michael smiled then said in the lowest of tones, “I will take good care of her, but I will never spoil her.” The two looked at him and nodded in agreement. He sent them home with gifts for their friends and family. He even hired a taxi to see them off. When they came back that evening Michael prepared supper for them. He asked Nancy to stay up with him as the children went to bed. She came into the living room and sat next to him. He looked at her and told her to sit on his lap. She hesitated then stood up and sat on his lap. “Nancy, I never had the chance to make peace with my Father. See, I often tell myself that he was taken away from us too soon- but there are some things you can never tell a child. I was studying in Uganda, when they called for me. I remember, Boko’s Father, he came to the hostel and told me that it was time I went back home. I never expected to come home to my Father’s funeral. All these years, I never told them what Boko’s Father told me about how he died.”
“How did he die?”
“He realized that the missionaries only paved way for
brutal colonialists. He blamed himself for allowing his people to welcome them. He died because he blamed himself.”
“But he couldn’t have seen that coming, no one did.”
“I did. I warned him about it but he laughed it off. He said I was only a child, who had not grown a beard or held a woman to understand the implications of my words.”
“He was right Michael. You were a child to him.”
“Yes, and today when your parents couldn’t stop asking about him or my Mother, these thoughts came back to haunt me. I wondered if he missed me, or even thought of me in his last moments. What I am saying is I am not perfect. At times I think I am not man enough- but that doesn’t mean that I would stop providing for you and our children. It doesn’t mean that we wouldn’t argue or disagree. It only means that I am willing to commit my time and spirit to making our marriage work and to seeing our children grow to be better people.” Nancy took his hand and rested her head on his shoulder. I watched them fall asleep and thought to myself of how perfect they were. She was still witty and