MY GRANDMA IS A G

My grandmother is 82 years old. She is called by her grandchildren, 'Koko', the respectful and affectionate title an older female relative.



She gets up with the sun early every morning to tend to her sukumowiki feilds, hens, cows, and banana trees. She's lived on that farm since the 1940's, and given birth to all of her 9 children within its walls.

She doesn't speak a word of English. Most of my memories of her were from when I was very young and she visited the US for a couple months. At that time, she was very quiet and noninteractive. I didn't know what to make of this Grandma as a kid, other than that I thought of her name as being ironically synonymous with the word cocoa.

When I arrived on her farm 2 weeks ago I was suprised to be welcomed by the jumping, singing, dancing, clapping, hugging, kissing version of Koko I had not previously known. Later, she said to me (through a translator) "I think you feel here as I felt when I was in the states." She was absolutely on point, we had traded places in being out of our elements.

We stay at my uncle Richard's house right next door, but every day I walk over to Koko's to visit with her. Especially in the morning, when I go and take tea at her table with her, and usually a couple guests. And every day she embraces me just as excitedly as she had on that first day. Amused at remarking to herself, "Nasimiyu Nasimiyu Nasimiyu..."

She wraps her arms around me and talks to me at length in Kiswahili. She knows I don't understand, but she just goes on and on. It's nice. Sometimes I just repeat what she says. Other times I just listen and imagine all the things she could be saying-

"Nasimiyu, you are my best granddaughter and you are far more special than your two siblings. Did you know that ever since you were small, you have had magical powers? You still do. I will teach you how to use them for good and not evil. Why do you think these bananas are so good?"

She's always filling my hands with the pint-sized but delicious bananas that she grows. She seems to worry constantly about how well I'm eating. Sometimes she won't let me leave until I've finished the pile of bananas she has set in front of me.



My Grandmother is a capital G.