Letter to my daughter
Letter to my daughter By Kondwani Nyondo Dear Amry, When I saw your name on Facebook, after twenty years it was like hearing a song I had long forgotten how to hum. You wrote: "I am looking for my father. If anyone knew Bapapi tell him, I still love him." This message hit me like thunder. For years, I stayed off Facebook. Not because I didn’t care, but because it became too painful to see what the world was doing without me in it. And now, there you were. Grown. Searching. And still calling me Bapapi the name your mother NyaNjolwa gave me. You may not remember much the day your mother walked away with you. But I do. On this day I remembered the words of NyaSoko your grandmother at Mtende in the village. At every visit she used to warn us “in the village even the way a man coughs can land him in hot soup.” Judi, young and curvier woman used to come to my butchery almost every day to buy pork. Not that she loved it herself but her father, Gilbert, who would not let two days ...