Yet she could not remember her own name. She tried recalling all the female names she knew, certain she would recognise hers once she heard it. Fatuma. Naima. Khadija. Hawa. Malyun. Zainab. Ambiya. Batula. Rukiya. Ifrah. Quresha… None sounded like the name she would know to be hers.

If I tell you I do not think the next Safaricom Jazz Festival will be amazing, I will be lying. Because this last one taught me to hold my reservation off, and just show up to enjoy the music.