My first time going to kisii as an adult after 16 years was very profound because it made most of my memories very clear.
First Memory: Bad
As a 2-3 year old girl, I remember watching drops of rain dig into the earth creating fresh holes while others dug into the previously created holes from huge drops of water from the roof. Where we were standing was dry and dusty with red soil. We leaned against a muddy wall that I can’t remember its color. We had no sweaters on. We were cold and hungry. Inside that house were people talking, can’t remember about what.
I was later told that inside was my grandmother and my aunties who were feeding my cousins and had told us to go out of the house. We had to wait for our mother to come back so that we can something to eat and make us warm.
Second Memory: Good
I was standing on a stone in the edges of a big river. Between me and the land was only a place my mum could help me move to. She was there. She put me there after lifting me off using my underarms as support. I felt good being in the middle of the river and my feet on a smooth stone.
Every time I asked about this memory, mum could not remember that moment but she said she would take us with her to wash or fetch water if we were awake and wanted to leave the compound. As an adult, I saw the river which hasn’t changed much. Turns out it wasn’t a river but a small tiny stream made from the small hole people use to fetch water from underground. The stone – which is the only stone- is still there. The only fact here is it was not a big river but a small stream and it wasn’t unsafe. It is one of the nicest and oldest memories I have.
A scientist who writes about her daily experiences. Most are drafts but some are publicly shared, like this one you just read.