We get to the field and watch the boys a little. Because we like games, we quickly pick up the rules. We start shouting tips from the side of the field. We have favourites. Scola’s brother, of course, and others. After a few weeks, someone gets tired of us stealing the ball and shouting so much and asks us if we want to play, since we know so much about it. We’re in!
He had moved in before I knew it. I had a small bedsitter. He had problems with his landlord. I liked him well enough. It wasn’t rocket science. Once again, I didn’t think it was a big deal for him to move in. I mean, this was Nairobi, right? I knew my mother wouldn’t approve, so I didn’t tell her, because I am a big girl. I send her money, after all, don’t I? That was enough.
I consider myself lucky though, you know? Imagine if things were different. Like it I was a girl, or if I was from a highly religious family, or both. Like Zahra. Imagine if I was a Zahra and got pregnant. Imagine if I was a boy, but had feelings for another boy and we were caught pants down (in every meaning of that phrase). This story would have been completely different, and most likely, more tragic.