Love is an act, and I've seen enough to gladden the heart this Valentine

Folks, Happy Valentine’s Day! Love is in the air and so, in the spirit of the week, I decided to surprise one of the most important women in my life. She happens to be one of my three mothers—and the only surviving mother—and a solid granny to my sons. She has been a pillar in our lives, steadying us in times of upheaval, or celebrating with us milestones of merriment and joy.

This week’s particular trip was at the instigation of the eldest man in the family, who dotes on the granny. He simply calls her Cucu. Cucu hasn’t been home for a while now, grounded by the domestics in her own life, caring for her two parents, now both in her 90s. She has become their primary care provider, abandoning her career and urban living for the humdrum life in a village in Murang’a.

We arrived in Murang’a at dusk. Babu, 95, bedecked in a boshori and light blanket spread over his lap, had just returned from physiotherapy. Was he cold? Did he need another sweater? Would socks help, yes, socks would be good, Cucu said, and off she went to fetch the socks.

She fixed the socks and returned to our conversation, negotiated over the blasting sounds of Inooro TV because Babu is hard of hearing. He remained glued to the set throughout the evening, occasionally drawing attention when he needed to use the bathroom.

“Do you want to stand, stand, or is it toilet, toilet?” Cucu asked. I took to be a code to check if Babu wanted to go for a short or long call, but it turned out that he occasionally sought help just to get to his feet.

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Cucu’s mother, Maitu, emerged from the kitchen, teary eyed, clutching a small pot of food that she had been making for her unexpected guests. At 93, Maitu has photographic memory. She recalled my son, the eldest man of the family and remarked at his towering height. Maitu droped her walking stick to carry the small pot. I helped with the pot so she could use her cane.

Maitu recalled life in the city with clarity. She retired from teaching in 1987, so she no longer travels to Nairobi, which was her last teaching posting. “Once you retire from work, you just stay at home and farm the land,” she said simply.

Maitu has sparkling white teeth and a light skin now filled with freckles. In her youth, she was a very beautiful woman. She still is. “With that hat, she looks Chinese,” Cucu chuckled. Maitu grinned. Are you talking to me, Babu asks, looking up from the television set.

The news bulletin was running for the third time, with every repeat eliciting Babu’s rapt attention, reporting about a foiled robbery in which suspects were roughed up and their vehicle torched. The expression used to describe the assault on the suspect, nduundio, defied easy translation. Long after the news item was gone, Maitu wondered if the thugs survived.

This seemed to trigger Babu into thinking about his guests’ safety. We should park the vehicle in the compound and lock up the gate, he said. After all, it was 9pm and his gate was locked promptly at 9pm.

Momentarily, Babu needed to use the bathroom. Cucu helped him to his feet. Would he like a cookie, Cucu asked, revealing under her breadth that he had munched three pieces already.

Babu said he was fine. He only wanted to clean his teeth, he said, gesturing to his mouth. Cucu and Maitu smiled. The hours had gone by quickly. Babu said we should have stayed the night. Cucu assured him these were young men and they would be just fine.

“Valentine has come early for me,” Cucu smiled, venturing outside and gazing at the stars with the eldest man in our family, as they both used to in the city of lights. “That’s a Venus,” she pointed out. Did Maitu know what’s Valentine’s Day, Cucu asked. Maitu smiled: “February 14!”