Home Is A Person
not a place
home in Jacksonville for a day and a half and I was already losing my mind. My aunties and uncles had been at my house the entire day in preparation for tomorrow’s dinner, we obviously don’t celebrate thanksgiving in Kenya but we wanted to have a special family dinner anyways. I couldn’t stand the constant judging and prodding of intrusive questions like when are you getting married and why would your parents let you pick such a dead-end career? It was beyond exhausting and to make matters worse my mother was entertaining it.
I was helping my aunty Gertrude out with making the stuffing for the chicken and I was so close to telling her to shut up and mind her own business.
‘You are too skinny darling, all flesh, and bones, good men these days want women who have some meat on them.’ Aunty Gertrude tisked looking my body up and down,
‘My body doesn’t exist to please the male gaze,’ I assured her and my mother shot me a warning glare,
‘You talk too much for a lady, be like your cousin Jemimah she’s a very obedient, nice and quiet girl.’ Mama sneered and I swallowed my words,
‘Sorry, aunty,’ I mumbled reluctantly, and mama smiled at my gesture.
I hated playing pretend, I hated playing a character whenever my family was around. It was like I was showing them this image of someone who I wasn’t, this image of the perfect, obedient and docile African girl.
I hated pushing that narrative forward because African women were nothing of the sort; what we are is strong, emotionally intelligent, and unwaveringly courageous.
‘You’re lucky I don’t tell your aunties about that white man I discovered you with, it would be a disgrace.’ Mama scoffed under her breath chopping up some vibrant orange carrots, ‘Why can’t you just make your family proud and let us find you a decent Kenyan man?’
‘Enough mama.’ I dismissed holding her gaze because I’d heard enough of her thoughts on my being with someone outside my race.
‘Indeed enough, enough of you and him.’ She persisted and I washed my hands before heading upstairs to my room with my little brother Jaadi.
Apparently, he’d developed a crush on another Kenyan girl in his class called Sula and he wanted to hold hands with her at recess but he was scared she wouldn’t like him that way. I remembered simpler times when your worst problems were what your crush thought of you and not that your mom— the person who was supposed to love you unconditionally and care about you more than anything would be taking you away from your dreams and out of the arms of the man you cared for.
‘She’s got the prettiest hair and it smells like strawberries!’ Jaadi gushed plopping himself down on the bean bag chair in the corner of my room,
It was odd to me how my room went untouched for three months, Jaadi said that mama would come in here and clean every nook and cranny and sometimes spent hours on end sorting out my old clothes. I knew some part of her cared for me, just as I’d said- not enough.
‘She sounds lovely, you should ask her about herself before you hold her hand, that way she’ll be more comfortable and feel like she knows you,’ I explained giving him a little insight into the mind of a ten-year-old girl who’s probably currently being fed tales of beauties and beasts, princesses and frogs and pumpkin carriages.
‘I’ll try, I hope she likes me.’ He said, fixing his glasses,
Jaadi looked a lot like me and we were similar in many ways and had always shared a connection. I wanted a little brother really badly when I was little and when he was born I swore on everything that I’d be there for him in the way that no one in this house was ever really there for me. I made sure he had healthy ways to deal with his feelings and felt comfortable talking to me about things. But it was hard to deny that one; I’d been gone three whole months and two; he was growing up, and so was I.
‘If she’s worth it, she’ll like you for you and that’ll be enough,’ I assured him and he smiled, just then my computer pinged and I turned my desk chair to read the notification, it read;
TO: Armani Nnandi <[email protected]>
FROM: River Kennedy <[email protected]>
SUBJECT: Hope you’re still alive
I hope that you’ve recovered well enough from the jet lag, have you gotten used to the time difference? I’d call, but I don’t know if you’re awake or with family as of now. I am at my parents’ house in Marseilles for the holiday and ma mère keeps asking if I’m okay– I actually am for the first time and yeah um, I don’t know how to tell her anything without her smothering me.
I really do hope you’re OK.
My heart leapt at the message and I was surprised he’d taken the time to message me, it was nice to know that he cared.
TO: River Kennedy <[email protected]>
FROM: Armani Nnandi <[email protected]>
SUBJECT: The Vampire Conspiracy
I’m alive, miraculously, thanks for asking. I just checked and it’s 2 AM there, why are you awake? I Hope you are alive too – wait that’s dumb because if you weren’t you wouldn’t be emailing me right now. Unless you’re undead, but that would make you a vampire – are you a vampire?? Because if you were, I think I’d be oddly okay with it. Will you be the Edward to my Bella and feed my childhood fantasy?
P.S: trust me when I say I know that family can be exhausting.
TO: Armani Nnandi <[email protected]>
FROM: River Kennedy <[email protected]>
SUBJECT: Debunking the vampire conspiracy
I am awake because I can’t sleep like I explained that one time, it’s a lingering side effect of getting off antidepressants after an entire year. Hopefully, it stops soon, I’ve only been off them for a few months or so. But I don’t want to bore you with the many unfortunate details. How are things with your mom?
P.S: If I was a vampire trust me when I say you would know. Also, who are Edward and Bella?
TO: River Kennedy <[email protected]>
FROM: Armani Nnandi <[email protected]>
SUBJECT: The joys of being the family disappointment
Link: tipstobeatinsomnia//cosmomag.org
^^ I hope this helps you get some rest.
My mom is insufferable, and she and my Kenyan aunties have been breathing down my neck the entire time about how they need to find me a “Good African man.” I wish things didn’t have to be so hard. I wish things could be easier for us. But I don’t think that in a world like this, easy was ever even an option… I don’t think I’m coming back after the break.
PS: you haven’t watched Twilight? Blasphemy!
TO: Armani Nnandi <[email protected]>
FROM: River Kennedy <[email protected]>
SUBJECT: I’ll wait for you
I know she will come around, she has to. Sometimes these things just take time. And if she doesn’t I’ll teleport to Jacksonville and we can go someplace our suffocating families will never find us. Um just give me a minute to figure out the science behind teleportation and quantum physics.
Currently: calculating and breaking the laws of time and space for you.
TO: River Kennedy <[email protected]>
FROM: Armani Nnandi <[email protected]>
SUBJECT: Is this a parallel universe or did you just make a joke?
Thanks for being positive enough for the both of us, Lord knows, at least one of us needs to be. My brother is starting to get suspicious at why I’ve been smiling at the screen for the past 15 minutes. He’s flipping through a catalogue of some special. [quite frankly really expensive] toy train that my parents couldn’t possibly afford to buy him. It makes me sad because I know what it’s like to want, to long for things that are so far out of reach, especially as a kid. I would buy it for him myself but my account is joined to my parents and It’s frozen because my mom is mad at me :/
I hit send on the keyboard and then my bedroom door swung open and I turned off my computer. It was mama.
‘What are you two doing upstairs, come back down and help me and your aunties prepare for tomorrow, this is no time to sleep. You will rest when you are dead.’ She beckoned and Jaadi laughed and we both headed back downstairs.
I walked outside and found papa seated on the porch swing and he gestured for me to sit down next to him and I did just that, papa wasn’t as young as he once was and I thought the moment I realised that was also the moment I realised that I was growing up. It was like It wasn’t so long ago that I was five years old and when he lifted me up in the air I felt like it was the highest place in the world. And now here we are seated in silence on the porch swing, we no longer speak the same language and I’m no longer in tune to his song.
I didn’t have my mother’s eyes, I had my father’s, the same curious and dark sunken eyes that held a sense of wanderlust that couldn’t be tamed. Papa sighed and began to speak,
‘I have gotten the sense that you and mama are not on the best terms as of now, I may not know what this is about but I assume he has a name- what is it?’ Papa asked and my breath hitched but I was so tired of lying, so I decided to be honest with him,
‘River Kennedy.’ I told him, ‘An artist.’
‘I am not as traditional as your mama, I know that sometimes life happens and we give our hearts to the most unexpected people. I won’t tell you to leave him behind, I will only tell you that I trust your judgement and I know that you are responsible and you know how to read people’s intentions well. And if you feel he is worthy of your heart then I trust you.’ Papa told me and I leaned onto his shoulder and let go of a breath I didn’t even realise I was holding,
‘Mama won’t let me return to him, I know this, but my heart hurts without him near please make her understand.’ I pleaded as the lump in my throat began to build,
‘I can try but I cannot promise,’ Papa told me and I could feel my tears begin to stain his coat,
I was so tired and so frustrated of always being at war with her, I don’t want to have to choose between my future and him and her, and in the midst of it lose my mother. It was the worst feeling in the world and I was surprised that he was being so understanding because that’s all I’d needed this entire time, for someone to understand.
I just want to be free to be with him and know him as a person and allow him to know me without mama breathing down my neck. I want the chance to make up for all the things I never experienced cooped up in this house as a teenager, I want to be young and just fucking live.
‘I’ll talk to her.’ He assured me by stroking my hair, ‘Nataka tu uwe na furaha, does he make you happy?.’ I just want you to be happy.
All I can do is nod because I think he does. It’s hard to explain but he really does.
‘Don’t waste your tears,’ Papa said.
That night after dinner Jaadi and I were going through old photo albums in the living room. It was an odd feeling looking at pictures from your childhood. It was like looking at this version of you that knew so very little of what was to come and sometimes it all felt like it never really happened.
Jaadi began to look through my camera as I showed him photos I’d taken of France and he seemed mesmerised by it even through a screen. Such is the true magic of the city of love, the ability to take you on a journey while staying exactly where you were. He paused all of sudden and I turned to look at him,
‘What is it?’ I asked and he turned the camera view to face me,
‘Who is he?’ Jaadi asked as a picture of River and I that I basically had to force him to take with me on the Eiffel Tower popped up, and I was immediately taken back to that moment when I knew so little once again. I smiled at the memory and took the camera gently out of his hands,
‘A friend.’ Is all I could think to say but Jaadi paused once again,
‘He looks at you the way papa looks at mama sometimes when he thinks she’s not paying attention.’ Jaadi commented,
‘You’re seeing things.’ I shrugged turning off the camera,
‘Like if he looks long enough she’ll disappear,’ Jaadi added dramatically then made a way gesture with his hands ‘Poof!’
I smiled shyly at his observation and a part of me wanted to believe it was true, but I would know, wouldn’t I? If he did.
Just as I was getting ready for bed I checked my computer once more and found one last email from River that made my heart ache more than anything I’d ever felt before, and I happened to think it was the most heartwarming thing anyone had ever said to me.
TO: Armani Nnandi <[email protected]>
FROM: River Kennedy <[email protected]>
SUBJECT: Reminder
You’ll come back to me I know you will.
Because Paris isn’t Paris without you.
