I remember when I first received news that my dearest grandmother (shosho in my local dialect) had Cancer- Breast Cancer to be precise. I was shocked and then this chilling crippling fear crept in. It felt like the beginning of the end if that makes sense.
On most occasions, I don’t know how to deal with ‘bad news’. I tend to shut down. Is there a manual for that? For my shosho’s diagnosis, I immediately went back to reading Dr. Yusuf K. Dawood’s articles. Something I last did when I was in primary. I simply wanted to find something, anything that could help me keep my shosho longer and also understand what to expect.
Anyway, that began a long journey of hospital visits (every Wednesday), chemo, and its adverse side effects. My mom, aunts, and uncles would rush to my shosho’s place in Gatundu anytime the side effects took a toll on her. And with each phone call, visit, and side effect, I was losing my shosho. Bit by bit. Until my dearest shosho was no more…
Aaaah! She was a wonderful woman I kid you not. Every time she’d tell me she couldn’t wait for me to get married, I’d joke with her and say ‘Shosho io siku nitamake sure umevaa nguo na viatu smart kabisaa. Alafu hiyo siku hutafunga kitambaa kwa kichwa. Nitakubuyia wig ile ya pesa mingi kabisaa’ (Shosho I’ll make sure you’ve worn the prettiest shoes and dress on my wedding day. You won’t need your head scarf because I’ll get you the most expensive wig).
I visited her when I was done with high-school. Shosho beckoned me and told me she wanted to talk. I expected something serious, but all shosho said was, sasa unaingia university, tafadhali ata ukisoma fungua macho vizuri, uangalie mtu mwenye anatia bidii, anapenda Mungu, anakuheshimu. Na usisahau kuangalia mfuko, usikule shida. (Now that you’re going to university, please open your eyes even as you study. Find someone who’s hardworking, loves the Lord, and respects you. And most of all, look at the pockets)
I’d add weight anytime I visited her. Haha. It was simply a series of Wanjiru, kula hii( eat this). Wanjiru, Kunywa hii chai (take this tea). Wanjiru, kula hizi mandizi ni nyinyi nilikuwa nimeekea (eat these bananas, I’d stored them for you). How could I not add weight honestly?
Shosho had her moments. One time we were at one of my uncle’s traditional wedding (ruracio), and well my shosho ended up introducing my guka as ‘uyu niwe kibaby giakwa’ (this is my babe). Aaaah everyone laughed. They were a lovely couple, the perfect blend.
But even then she had her stubborn days and my grandfather always knew how to tone her down.
My shosho loved everyone, irrespective of who you were or where you came from, a giver, and a very blessed woman. Sometimes I still think she’s alive and on some days I’ve found myself scrolling through my phone to call her.
With the diagnosis and the chemo, shosho gradually became a shell of herself, but she still had so much love to give. I remember the last time we all were with her. It was on a Sunday, and a few of my uncle’s friends had gone to Gatundu to visit her. Oh, we were all so happy. We ate, sang, and had a good time. That night before we left, shosho said ‘I feel tired wacheni nipumzike’. And she slept. At the same time she did, I remember Inooro Tv’s death announcements came on. Have you ever felt a premonition that was too real? I experienced that, and all alarm systems went on in my head.
Shosho passed away that same week, on Tuesday.
Until We Meet Again
It is November 2nd, and I am laying my beloved to rest today. While it brings me to tears, I choose to celebrate the woman that has held her family down for so long. I celebrate the life of a woman who gave so much of herself and was loved by all with the same fervor.
The greatest lessons she taught me were to always be kind, to love everyone regardless of anything, to love the Lord, and most importantly to always carry something when I’m visiting someone.
I would liken her to Akoko of The River and The Source. She was the pillar that held her family together, the woman that influenced us, as women in the family, to be strong.
Shosho you will be missed dearly. I will miss your stories. I will miss your advice. I will miss your love. Huruka cucu witu (Rest our shosho).
