“Nimefurahi kukutana nawe, jina langu ni River Kennedy.”It’s a pleasure to meet you, my name is River Kennedy.River introduced proceeding to take a knee when speaking to her to meet her gaze, his Swahili wasn’t perfect but he was trying. My heart stopped realising that he had kneeled when speaking to her and then it was full of warmth.
“How did you…” I wondered in shock.
“I pick up languages very quickly.” He assured me, then turned back to face her. “I wanted to learn and speak your language when I first met you. I have heard so much about you, Armani speaks so highly of you that I knew that meeting you would be a great privilege I shouldn’t take lightly.”
“I brought you these,” River spoke as I then noticed the boxes of grapes and the bouquet of white roses on the table. “Armani told me you grew up on a vineyard.”
“Thank you, I did, I appreciate the gift. You will be good to my Armani, won’t you?” She asked placing a hand over his, “You will take care of her, and stand by her even when things aren’t easy?”
“Armani is the most important part of my life, I will treasure her just as you have, just as she deserves.” He comforted her and I watched as tears collected in her eyes.
“I’ll take your word for it.” My bibi nodded slowly wiping her eyes.
“And if you don’t we have uncles who will follow you all the way to Paris to seek revenge!” My cousin Jemimah warned him and he let out a soft laugh.
I wasn’t so sure she was joking though, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Noted.” He agreed, and just then I saw my mother standing in the doorway, her eyes brimming with unshed tears as well.
“You…mean the words you say?” My mother asked him sternly.
“He doesn’t say words he doesn’t mean,” I answered.
“I do.” River acknowledged standing up.
“Then…I cannot stop you.” My mother accepted and my heart sank. “I hope that you will know that there is no prize you will win for your art, that is of more value than my child. Be good to my Armani, River Kennedy.”
“I will.” He accepted reaching forward to shake her hand, and she trembled as his meshed with hers. “Mrs Nnandi.”
“We have run out of baskets for the Millie meal!” My aunty Cleo complained, “and the market where we bought them is very far away.”
“Oh no!” Jemimah sighed, “We have no time before dinner.”
“Do you have reeds?” River asked interrupting,
“Yes.” Aunt Cleo answered,
“I can weave the baskets.” River suggested, “I mean, I have done something similar before in art so I can try.”
“Can you really?” I sighed in relief, holding his hand. “Because if so, you can show me and I can help!”
“Yes, we’ll make them, don’t worry.” He insisted and I smiled, kissing his cheek. “What was that for?”
“Being here.” I told him, “for always just…being there.”
We’d managed to weave the baskets by hand successfully and everyone was rather impressed by us, dinner went by smoothly; I had to explain to River that ugali is eaten with your hands and not a fork and knife, we sat through a grilling from my parents about what his intentions were with me like it was 1933.
“What’s your favourite sport?” My father asked River during dinner.
“Ballet,” River responded and my uncles nearly choked on their glasses of water.
“That is not a sport.” My uncle Edgar refuted.
“Dancers are some of the most athletic and skilled people in the world. The International Olympics Committee recognizes dance as a sport.” River explained and then the table went completely silent.
“Okay!” I interrupted for everyone’s safety. “Next question.”
After dinner, we said goodbye to everyone, but saying bye to my bibi was the most difficult thing of all, there were a lot of tears, and she gave me a new quilt she’d knitted for me. I would miss her a lot, but we had to go.
