My granny is rarely home these days. She says she is going to Nairobi to spend some time with my grandfather. Dude has taken ill lately. I knew he was sick the day he moved back in with us. You see, the thing is, since he came back from Burma, after fighting other people’s war, Grandpa has been a little strange. Granny says it’s all the killing and getting too comfortable with death. So Grandpa has been living alone at a farm house about ten minutes from us. One wonders why he didn’t move further. That’s how I know he left his brains in Burma when the war ended and the Germans went home with nothing to show for it. Later when I grow up, I’d use this lost battle to explain the highly flammable temper of my German friend, Katlyn.
So, now that Grandpa has moved back home, we are all walking on eggs here. My granny especially. I think Grandpa’s geography has become a little messy too. He thinks this is Burma. He is fighting everybody. I can tell we are all scared by the way our dog, Simba, sits there his eyes sad and with his tail in-between his legs. You know sometimes I wonder why we call the dog Lion as though it were a cat. I don’t know why the chicken are making so much noise. Everything else is still. On the day Grandpa moves in back home.
‘So, where is Grandpa going to sleep?’, I am thinking of asking Granny. I hesitate. I do not want to come across as impolite or as asking grown-up questions. The truth is, I am selfish. I am afraid that if Grandpa moves into Granny’s room I won’t have a place to sleep. I have been sharing a bed with Granny for as long as I can remember. At school, my classmates think I sleep with my Granny because I am her favorite grandchild. They don’t know that it is because there is not enough space for me to have a room of my own. But I can’t tell them that. I don’t want them thinking we are not rich.