Mamas

There are few moments as blissful as when I meet old women along the path and say, "Oyawore. Ichiew Nadi?" which means, "Good morning. How are you waking?" Laughing, they lunge for my hand and grip it with the strength that comes from a lifetime of manual labor. They gently slap the back of my palm and fire off Luo to test my knowledge. My understanding ends so I simply smile, relish their calluses and toothless grins.

These interactions remind me of time spent with my own grandmother, times when she spoke a different language and I could only sit and listen. In much the same way, she held my hand, patted my arm, and warmed me with her laughter.