Kanga in the Breeze

Virginia Allen

Description

‘Kanga in the Breeze’ is based on the true story of an unlikely sisterhood between a young expatriate mother seeking to immerse herself in the rich ethnic diversity of Kenya and a local Kikuyu mother who by chance becomes a childminder to the white family. As their lives become ever more entwined, there are unforeseen consequences to crossing the racial divide in post-colonial Africa.
Building a holiday home on the tropical island of Lamu is a dream come true, but with the rise of Islamic militancy after the fall of the twin towers in America, local communities in East Africa become polarised along religious lines and nowhere is safe.
Reminiscent of similar stories of the solidarity between women, such as ‘The Secret Life of Bees’ and ‘The Help’ both set in the American South, this is a heart-warming story from Africa of mutual support between two women whose friendship lasts a lifetime.

Sujets

• Islam
• African Languages
• Foreign Language study
• Lettres et linguistique
• Women
• África
• Under the Skin
• Woman
• Language
• The Women
• Swahili
• Africa
• Colonisation

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse UK
• Date de parution: 07 novembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781728375809
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Kanga in the Breeze
The true story of an unusual sisterhood
Virginia Allen with Rosie Ndongu


AuthorHouse™ UK
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403 USA
www.authorhouse.co.uk
Phone: UK TFN: 0800 0148641 (Toll Free inside the UK) UK Local: (02) 0369 56322 ([phone] from outside the UK)
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
© 2022 Virginia Allen with Rosie Ndongu. All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse 11/03/2022
 
ISBN: 978-1-7283-7579-3 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-7283-7580-9 (e)
 
 
 
 
 
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
List of Illustrations
About the Authors
The Kanga
Map Of Kenya
Prologue: The Soggy Isle
Part 1
 
Chapter 1 Tea with Memsahib
Chapter 2 Finding an Ayah
Chapter 3 Big Mama
Chapter 4 The House of Wazungu
Chapter 5 Seeing the Sea
Chapter 6 A Muslim village
Chapter 7 Harambee
Chapter 8 Nairobi
Chapter 9 Homo Habilis
Chapter 10 Polygamy
Chapter 11 Maasai Mara
Chapter 12 Tana River
Chapter 13 Hakuna Matata
Chapter 14 Shela
Chapter 15 Paté Island
Chapter 16 Putting down Roots
Chapter 17 Jasmine House
Chapter 18 Scorpion in the Sand
Chapter 19 Wema Martyr
Chapter 20 Kijabi Raid
Chapter 21 Kwa Heri
Chapter 22 Panga Attack
Chapter 23 Alone in Shela
Chapter 24 Millennium
Chapter 25 The Fall of the Twin Towers
Chapter 26 Rosie’s Shamba
Chapter 27 Al Shabab
Chapter 28 Market Woman
Chapter 29 Student of the World
Chapter 30 Rosie
 
Epilogue
Glossary
Acknowledgements
List of Illustrations
Map of Kenya
 
Part 1 : Into Real Africa: A Swahili village in Kenya. Watercolour
The Afridev Handpump (Booklet Cover) 1988
Healthy Living beside Lake Victoria (Booklet Cover). 1986
Healthy Living beside the Tana River (Booklet Cover) 1987
 
Part 2 : Dhow Race off Lamu Island. Watercolour. 1998
The Jetty at Shela. Watercolour. 1989
The Stop Over in Shela Village. Watercolour. 1989
 
Part 3 : The Mosque of Shela village. Watercolour. 1997
Rosie’s Shamba. Watercolour. 2003
About the Authors
Virginia Allen is a social scientist with a doctorate in public health who has spent much of her life working in rural Africa, helping women to prevent most common diseases. Together with her husband, she co-founded a charity organisation, called Africa AHEAD which, in the past 30 years, has reached over 2 million people through starting Community Health Clubs across Africa. She received an AMCOW award for this contribution in 2010. Although she has published extensively on her work, these memoirs using reflections from her personal experience are her first non-academic writing. She and her husband live in Cape Town, South Africa where she continues to provide training online to start Community Health Clubs.
Rosie Ndongu is a Kikuyu farmer turned housekeeper who, with only primary school education, has penned her thoughts in these genuine letters to Virginia enabling this story to be published. As she now lives alone in Kenya with few resources, all profits from the sale of this book will be used to support her retirement.


For all the strong mothers of Africa
as they struggle to ensure that their children
not only survive but prosper.

The Kanga
‘ Once slavery was abolished you could dress like a lady. No one could stop you.’
Adija Bakari, a descendant of a slave woman
When slavery was abolished in East Africa in 1897, freed slave women would indicate their liberation by dressing more modestly, adopting the Muslim custom of hiding their hair, as their former Omani mistresses had done.
Inst ead of using an abaya and a veil to cover themselves, as in the Middle East, indigenous women took to covering their heads and shoulders demurely with a length of cheap calico cotton. A second cloth was wrapped around their body which indicated they had the right to dress themselves modestly, being no longer slaves.
At first, the white cotton was crudely block-printed black patterns on white: the effect was that of the plumage of a guinea fowl called a kanga in Kiswahili.
Kangas became standard dress all along the East African coast. Later, as literacy spread, proverbs were printed on kanga borders and women began to choose kangas, not only for their designs, but for their wise sayings.
Admirers chose kangas as bridal gifts, matching the riddles to fit a particular situation. In this way, the kanga has become a powerful medium to preserve Swahili oral culture and is also a symbol of feminine liberty and self-expression.
In this story we use proverbs composed by anonymous wise people over the years which have been passed down orally, as a theme for each chapter in order to help preserve these traditional Swahili values.
MAP OF KENYA
showing project areas and Lamu archipelago


Co pyright
Map, sketches, watercolour illustrations as well as front cover photograph and logo by author Virginia Allen
Book Cover, design and chapter break by Susan Abraham.
Disclaimer
The observations, interpretations and views expressed by characters in this book are those of the authors and should not be understood as representing the views of the characters they portray or of any institution with which the authors are or have been affiliated.
Prologue
The Soggy Isle
‘Kama Mama na kasirika, wote wata kasirika’ ‘If Mama ain’t happy, ain’t no one happy.’
Virginia: April 1986.
In Africa, the sun will be blazing down from another predictably blue sky. Here it is still pitch black. I lie awake in bed, clinging to the few last moments of calm, listening to the tedious plonking of rain drops on the windowsill. It has been dripping grey skies each day for the entire year as Anthony ploughs through his master’s degree.
I shed the warmth of the duvet and go to the bathroom thinking of how to escape to the sun. Staring into the mirror as I brush my teeth, I hardly recognise myself: a discontented young woman with tired green eyes, red-rimmed from lack of sleep, my skin turned sallow from lack of light. The children are already up, rampaging around their cots, squawking for me like mad parrots.
Today Anthony meets the Big Mama. Perhaps today is the day of liberation from this soggy isle with its low skies and saddened people. I long to sweat out all the English toxins that have accumulated in my pores. In Kenya Anthony must be getting up about now. I close my eyes and beam him a tsunami of positivity, willing him to succeed for all our sakes.
Hauling up a heavy bucket of nappies, I tip the stinking liquid into the bath, wring out the coarse white cotton by hand. The acrid smell of stale bleach stings my nostrils, burns my hands. Heaving the bucket down the stairs into the dreary kitchen, I slop the nappies into the washing machine. Outside it is still dark in the little cement backyard. The detritus from last night’s supper clutters the sink. I boil the kettle and ignore the pandemonium upstairs. For a few precious moments I drink my tea, clasping the mug to warm my hands, gathering energy to cope, hunched in front of the washing machine, mesmerised by the clonk and drone while the nappies slosh first one way and then the other. I cross off another square of the calendar on the door of the fridge and recount the days.
I know I will never get used to living here. I am from another planet. It was so easy in Zimbabwe when I had a nanny to help me. I used to enjoy having kids; it was fun watching their antics. I had three children under three, and I wasn’t worn out like I am now. Here I am on permanent duty, and it is wearing me down. I am so deprived of sleep that I have lost my sense of humour completely. I don’t want Anthony’s help: all he has to do is to study and pass his exams, so we can get out of here as soon as possible.
‘Almost a year since we arrived,’ I remind myself aloud, ‘how much longer can I last?’
Tristan slides down the stairs on the railings calling out ‘Mum, Wendy’s done a poo.’
I take another sip of tea, and hand him a biscuit, pretending not to hear him. The ‘hob nob’ breaks as he bites it, and I wait for him to howl as he always does when he can’t keep a biscuit in one piece until the last mouthful.
‘Broken bickie,’ he yells, chucking it on the floor and reaching for another.
‘No, you don’t,’ I snap. ‘Just eat it.’
He turns up the howling, knowing this will get on my nerves. I relent and give him another biscuit. Anything to keep him quiet.
I climb the stairs to the twin’s room to face the chaos. Charlie has thrown all his toys on the floor and is rattling the bars of his cot like a demented chimp in the zoo. Wendy is watching him, giggling as she rearranges her fluffy mound of animals, sucking on her fingers. The twins hug me with delight as I set them free. I pull off the stinking ‘Babygro’s’ and their sodden cotton nappies. The little cherubs run around squealing with naked pleasure. Getting the three of them organised every morning in time for school is a nightmare, and my patience in the morning is minimal. If we were back at home, I would have help.
I have counted between myself and the three