What is my Africa? by Georgina Sachse

What is my Africa?

The Safaricom advert at Kenyatta Airport- ‘The better option’: I can’t believe this makes me nostalgic!

The passport check ‘what is the purpose of your stay?’- ‘Narudi nyumani. Nimefika!’: those words are music to my ears…I am returning home. I have reached. My accent changes. God this feels good. I am in Kenya!

The whiff of Diesel when I hit Nairobi, buying a pair of ‚GuccCi‘ sunglasses on Uhuru highway, squishing your way through that bouti-ya-roundi near Museum Hill as if you’re trying to make some kind of statement to that Matatu driver that YOU are rocking the anarchy of the road, a statement you seal with a wave and a smile.

Then a reminder: lock your door, put your window up…worrying? Na! pfffft- I’m freaking loving the feeling of ‘being alert’ again- now it’s up to me? Bring it on! I am unbwogable!

So much has changed? Flyovers? New cars? Traffic lights? Chinese workers everywhere?...barely a year and I feel like I missed a lifetime…

And finally-  FINALLY the dust and potholes the size of craters of Thindigs that signals the arrival at home. MOM. My strength, the master of ‘the look’ and a smile that renders any trouble into  aflimsy speck of dust.

Cûcû’s chapos

Mbuzi choma na ugali, kachumbari na sukuma- Woi!

Roast maize, Afro-style!

Mango- bloody MANGO!                                                               

Toi market

The maize man in front of school! ‘Boss’

The heat- and yes: the rain!

Going to shags- the trip!

Out of Nairobi- OUT! And Up! We’re heading to Mt. Kirinyaga! It doesn’t matter how often you’ve seen it, but the Rift Valley will remind you of you puny existence- but more than that: how the hell are those shacks not falling off that cliff? Ngai mondo!

Rice and flatland, ridiculous amounts of donkeys and speed bumps- someone was serious about STOPPING your car with those ferocious bulges…not quite there yet…

The hills, the tea, ah yes- the mirrah pick- ups rushing by at the speed of light (it’s inexplicable how that metal box can move that fast in the first place) rushing for the airport to spread the chewy goodness to the Ethiopian and Somali borders …almost there…

And finally: shags! Cousins and more cousins, uncles, aunties, family, eating maize even when you know it’s going to come back to haunt you! The heaped plate that you had better devour- or are you on a diet?

Githuguthugu- the apparent ex-Mau Mau who’s been wearing the same old suit for thirty years and lives in a cave…and has a serious thing about letting his nails grow to epic proportions, not to forget: he is immortal! He’s been the same age since I can remember and absolutely everyone knows him- ha! The kids run away from him for fear of his magic-but mostly because his hands are harder than Firestone tires.

The cow, the goats, the chicken (all I am seeing is meat! Properly conditioned Kenyan!), the mangoes, the avocados and Cûcû- my grandmother. An African woman of wisdom. She is the Marete grit in person: she gave ten children their education and defied those who tried to break her.

And looking down on us: Kirinyaga. Yes- I can believe that everything started here.

Onwards to Meru: great grandfather is waiting. Heck- I even look forward to holding back my tears and forcing a smile as I gulp the grimy, thick uji- never got the taste, never would deny a cup offered me at Nguka’s. He blesses us- touches our heads and sends us back into the world. It’s so far away!

And back to Nairobi. Back to Thindigs. Back to Maastricht. Back to the Bloemenweg. Tuonane badaye.

My Africa is family. My Afrika is Kenya. My Afrika is home, my identity, the part of me that brings me through every day! My Africa is OUR Africa - a shared joy, beauty, wisdom and strength. A determination and will. An embraced possibility amidst chaos- it can be mastered! Something I miss, but find in people and my heart. The feeling that draws people together. The feeling that reminds: live it! Know it! It is happening!