I opened my eyes from the deep slumber on the laps of my grandmother. I was feeling fresh and strong in my long juvenile bones as my grandmother Helen stroked her palms on my hair. She stretched her legs and sat upright to hold me close to her. I closed my eyes once again to feel the love of a fore, a kind of love my parents never lived long enough to show me.
She looked through my eyes with her palms resting gently on my cheeks and said, “Your father Tom was just like you. He had those eyes!” Helen pulled a small kitchen stool next to her and ushered me to sit. She got hold of her walking stick from the ground and struggled to stand up. She was getting weak and old. I sat down and watched her walk briskly to the house.
“Oyier…!”She called me. I raced up into the old round thatched house that she had lived for about 70 years. I guess from the time she was married here. She is 87 now. “Yes mum, what is it? I am here.” I replied standing next to her. She pointed to the dark soot filled ceiling and said, “I kept some bananas up there, i am sure they are ripe.” I smiled and hurriedly pulled a stool to help me get up there.