That girl Diana

I am feeling super lazy and my friend Ann has to drag me out of bed literally. Today we are going to visit a rescue center for girls somewhere in ukambani. This is a good course you must think. To me though, I don’t feel so. I have been saving up my little allowance by sticking to vegetables and disciplining myself to live below a dollar for the entire semester and now my friends want me to travel which will consume my entire savings. My hands are tied because in the previous semester I kept yapping of how much I liked kids and my friend is using this statement against me. ‘ you said you like kids. Now imagine girls who are not mature who have been rescued. You might mentor one girl. At least one’.

I am sulking inside as we walk towards bus station because my bank account now reads almost bankrupt. The weather gods are on our side and it isn’t drizzling like it was yesterday morning.  We are to meet another group of people and in my mind I have neat people who are rich and just want to help out. What shocks me first is the noise in the bus they are in. I like my silence very much and the idea of being on the road for more than three hours in such a bus makes me wanna weep like a little child.  Luckily we can’t all fit into that bus and we have to get a 14 seaters p.s.v..
Three hours is a short time and when we alight at a small town to contribute some cash for shopping, I feel ashamed for not wanting to visit the center.  The people in the bus have one thing in common; they were either brought up in such centers, children’s home or have been to both. They talk about it freely and the way they talk about the people who encouraged them makes me feel that I made the right choice. Before we get into the center, they take time to thank the university team and they say we might encourage someone.

Once in, we get into a big hall and are mixed up with the girls. Every girl wants more attention than one can give and I just want to ran out. This girl who is all composed appears and says hey. She is the time keeper here. She heads the entertainment and the way she carries herself makes me feel insufficient. She sits next to me and pours some popcorns on my back and I feel shocked because I don’t know how to react.

I try to get her but then she dodges me quite easily thanks to my weight and laziness. I keep watching her and pretend I forgot until she sits next to me. I get her easily and mess up her hair with crushed popcorn. When she remarks, it’s with weird Swahili dialect and  I ask her where she is from. When she says Uganda, my heart goes out to her. She is braver than me though and easily talks of how challenging it was for her to adapt in a Kenyan rescue center with no knowledge in Swahili the national language.

I ask her why she is here and she tells me a sad story of being married off to an old man and she actually manages to make fun of that man and I can’t help laughing. How can she be so strong?? She asks me thousands of questions on campus life and she quietly remarks how lucky I am when I tell her about my hobbies. I never counted myself lucky ever before but now I did.

Time flies fast and it’s already time to hit the road. She gives me a big hug and makes me promise to call her or visit again. She has a great scarf and when I suggest we trade, she is happy to and refers to me as sister. I just got one more sister and her name is Diana. I smile sadly not knowing if I would make it to visit her and as we walk out of the hall, I promise myself that I would go back and see her.

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2 Replies to “That girl Diana”

  1. am i tearing already??oh nooo….ths has to b a deep piece chege….try calling her…be th kenyan sister she never had


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