Bwana asifiwe, it's my last time in Nairobi!

Shurie had gone into her room for a nap, and I too was resting on the couch. Sundays are always good days for a nap, and now that the cold weather has set in, no one wants to be outside in the afternoon. Kathy was playing with Play-doh on the other couch, so I pretended to sleep, snoring “me me me me me me me” with my eyes closed. I heard her little feet hit the floor, and she wobbled over to me.

“Shiko! Shiko! Unataka kulala?” (Rachel! Shiko! Do you want to sleep?)
“Ndyio!” (Yes!)
“Sawa, mtoto.” (Okay, little one.)

She crawled up on the couch and settled beside me, her head resting on my cheek. We had a few seconds of silence before she became antsy.

“Unanisumbua. We!” (You’re disturbing me. You!)
“Mimi?” (Me?) I asked humbly, for I really hadn’t moved or spoken.
“Yes!”
“Pole.” (Sorry.)
“Sitaki poles yako! Sitaki stories yako!” (I don’t want your sorry! I don’t want your stories!)
“Sawa.” (Fine.)

As she turned her back on me, her noggin collided with my nose. She muttered a quiet, “pole” and patted my face. We had a few more seconds of stillness before she interrupted the silence again.

“Aye. Watcha. Shiko! Wewe, ona sasa enda lala.” (Aye. Stop. Rachel! You, look now. Go sleep.)
“Najaribu!” (I’m trying!)
“Eh, queli.” (Eh, really.)
“Pole.” (Sorry.)
“Sitaki poles yako! Sitaki stories yako!” (I don’t want your sorry! I don’t want your stories!)

Then, she got up and wandered to Shurie’s door. She stood looking at it for a second, shut it, turned the lock and ran with the key. I heard a faint moan of irritation, followed by, “Rachel, did Kathy just lock me in my room?”

Kathy certainly has grown up this year, and recently she has taken to locking doors, throwing things over the balcony, playing with the spices in our kitchen, taking all of the bags out of my room, anything really that she knows she shouldn’t be doing. I’ve now had to hide all of my dawa (medicine) because the other day, she took a bottle of pills and ran for the porch. I caught her hand right as she was about to drop the whole thing over the edge.

Many things have changed this year. Babies have been born, loved ones have died, the “winter” has come, trees have been cut, trees have been planted, the road has been widened, students have grown, I’ve grown fond of burnt rice, I’ve learned how to frog-jump, I’ve learned patience. Maureen also insisted on two consecutive days that, “Your butt has really grown this year!” (which was supposed to be a compliment) and “You’ve really become frail this year!” (this was not a compliment.)

As I sit here watching PSquare’s music video “No One Like You,” I remember the hundreds of times I’ve listened to this with Keith, mouthing the words and mimicking Peter and Paul’s moves (these are the two brothers known as PSquare whose music is very popular here). Keith always teases me as Peter dances with a girl in the video, saying “Leshel, there you are!”

One thing that has not changed about this year is the fact that at the end of the week, all of us are in the Kamau’s sitting room. Keith and I are fighting over the maroon chair, Kathy is asking Shurie for tamu, Maureen is sitting on the couch smiling, and we are watching “No One Like You,” laughing about Peter and me dancing on the screen.

I can’t say whether I’ve grown wider or thinner and I can’t tell you how many freckles have popped out on my face and arms. I can tell you that I’ve grown four silver hairs on the right side of my head and that the bottoms of my feet are the faintest tint of orange. I can also tell you that deep within my heart, I haven’t changed a bit. I’m the same, same Rachel with the same, same laugh and the same, same smile.

I will be home in just a few short weeks. For my parents and my sister, I hope God will bless you with stuffy noses when you pick me up from the airport so that you cannot smell me. For Peter, I hope that you’ll learn the PSquare dance with me, so we can say we were really the ones in the video. For my congregation at the Mills River Presbyterian Church, I hope that you’ll bring your dancin’ shoes to church for a real Kenyan experience. And for everyone else, God bless you! I will see you soon!