Kuku Mndakola

Mndakola entered the small hut mumbling to herself as she often did. She was usually making some fuss about the laziness of her grandkids or about all the work that needed to be done. This time she was mentioning something about the flowers she was bringing to Nelago – their size, colors, or smell. Nelago didn’t hear what she was saying, she only acknowledged the noise. She opened her eyes and watched her grandmother bending her back to enter the reed-roofed short hut. She was in her sixties but could bend over and reach anything on the ground with the livliness and flexibility of a twenty-year old. She was indeed strong, as her name told. But, Nelago didn’t think of these things. Her grandmother’s movements and actions were as normal to her as the setting sun; a world without either didn’t seem real.
Mndakola shut the small wooden door so that the chickens wouldn’t enter. Then she turned and looked along the floor of the hut. She began sweeping the dusty and sandy ground around Nelago with a bundle of long stick grass used as a broom. She was careful not to disturb her sick child and didn’t look to her face. Mndakola never felt Nelago’s wondering brown eyes watching her. After she finished sweeping she laid the handful of white and pink petal flowers around the reed mat. She gathered them from the assortment that grew along the outside walls and passages of the sandy and dusty floors of their homestead. Nelago loved those wildflowers, especially during the rainy season. They bloomed at everyone’s feet, for all to see.
She spread the flowers and knelt on the floor just by Nelago’s head. She didn’t touch or caress her with her hands, but her eyes held the child’s body to warm and protect it. Nelago felt that security of her grandmother’s eyes that were piercing, but loving. Mndakola was unlike her grandmother Kaino, who always had the most charming smile on her face and unlike her grandmother Eva who had a large deep voice to go with her wide face and warm hands. They were sisters and shared a common love for their families although they each expressed it uniquely.
Nelago often looked into her grandmother’s eyes timidly and frightfully. Mndakola had a hard face; an especially hard one for little children to look to. Nelago seldom blinked. Her arms were crossed about her chest and goose bumps rose about her body. Now she was cold. Mndakola began to speak in her sharp, fast tone.
“Nelago, oya ku leka ongolohi ya zi ko?” did they bite you last night
“Eee, Kuk.” yes, grandmother
“Tate Kulu ote ya ngashigaye na omeya.” grandfather is coming now with water
“Kuk, ondi uvite talala.” grandmother, i feel cold
Nelago was shivering. Her arms and legs were slightly shaking. She wore a waist dress, knitted by her Grandmother Hilema, that fell to her shins. Mndakola stood and grabbed the wildebeest fur that hung from the thatched roof, and placed it over her cold granddaughter.