MONICA

Last year, Dad and I took some time off to go to our rural home. There were a lot of developments to be done. My responsibility was to supervise the painting of the 'new' house and put my interior design tips to the test. I also started a small project for myself; I started a kitchen garden! yes, i picked up a hoe and dug! Then I planted tomatoes, sukuma wiki, mchicha, spinach and onions. I"m quite the ambitious type! Whether or not I reaped where I sowed is another blog-post!

I had such an amazing time with Dad considering before then, I had last been in shagz about 10 years prior. Again, reasons for that are another blog-spot! I loved waking up early in the morning to be greeted by the peaks of Mt. Kenya and looking over the hills for the sunrise. Clean, fresh air followed by hard work the rest of the day. Cooking with a paraffin stove and boiling cereal on the three stone fire. I was so fascinated by all that and Dad kept saying that he has given us a very privileged life and he regrets it! I don't!!

The relationship I have with Dad is kinda complicated. I"d say, we are best frenemies. Still, we bonded over the three stone fire and down by the river that runs through the home and over the meals (we kinda stuck to eating ugali and chili-cabbage most of the time, sumptuous meal) and walks to town to get fresh yogurt.

It was during one of these bonding sessions that Dad told me about Monica.

Flashback 16 years ago, 29th April 1994. It was my eighth birthday but Mum and Dadwere nowhere to be seen. I caused tantrum! How could they not be there on my birthday? Making matters worse, my sister was up to her usual, teasing me endlessly. then Dad came home. he seemed to be in a rush. He had come with some goodies to appease me but before I could yell at him, he was gone.

Little did I know that at that time at Mombasa Hospital, Mum had given birth to my sister but she died minutes after....

Dad is a true Maasai man. Cannot show any emotion. What he did was take my sister, put her in a coffin and in the car and drove to Manyimbo cemetery where he buried her. He did not care about city by-laws that state you must have a burial permit. no, he dug a grave, lay the coffin and while he was burying my little sister, he named her Monica.

Back to June 2009.

I was frozen as dad told me this. Only later did I realize the stream of tears flowing down my face. I cannot explain the hurt I felt. Only that it hurt really, really bad.

I could go on and on about that day. But I'd rather not. See, I'm also not one to be overly emotional. Guess it's that wicked Maasai blood.

So here it is, Monica has been dead for 16 years now. That is 16 years of silence about Monica. It's time to put a stop to that. on my side, that is. I celebrated her birthday this year by putting it up on the Internet (you do know I mean facebook, right?) and had a blast. We rocked that sweet sixteen, didn't we Sis?

So many things we would have shared... And she just had to be born on the same date I was!

This is a vow to never ever forget Monica and to always talk to her. I haven't yet got the strength to go to her grave but, baby steps.... There's something heavy on my chest and there is something in my throat.....

I love you, Monica!