Nairobi Days

The next day at four, I came out of school to see Adnan Uncle in the blue Fiat he had brought from Uganda.

“Let’s go for ice cream,” he said as Tara and I got into the car excitedly with my rucksack full of books.

“How was school? Oh, wait, let’s go and see my friend.” We drove to a house nearby, and he parked the car in the garden and waited. A pretty girl of about twenty in a pink dress came out and talked to him. She invited us in for tea, but he refused saying he would come another time. Then he talked to her for so long, we may as well have gone in and had tea I thought, but I didn’t dare say anything, out of respect for my uncle.

“These are my nieces, my sister’s daughters,” he told her. He didn’t tell me who the girl was, but I recognized her from the mosque. They chatted more and then we finally drove off to get ice creams at Dairy Den.

Adnan was my most handsome uncle and women were drawn to him like bees to a saucer of jam. He was slim and tall with fair skin, brown hair that flopped over his forehead and perfect features. I had so many young women saying hello and being extra nice to me at the mosque while Adnan was staying with us. He was amused by it and flirted mildly with all of them, without favoring one in particular.

My uncles spent eleven months with us. In order to ease their frustration, they went running every morning at dawn. In the day, they went to town to meet people. They were trying to do some sort of business. I was not sure what. They would joke around and play with us as if they didn’t have a care in the world. They were only in their twenties. They had left behind a flourishing hotel and a coffee farm. What lay ahead was practically unknown. In 1973, Adnan and Rashid left for Canada. The house was quiet and dull without them. Now we realized how alone we were with the family in Uganda all gone.