Eigi Ema | Mathu Nabagi Wari __full__

My grandmother, Emabu , sat by the window, her wrinkled hands busy peeling peas. She didn't look up when she spoke. "You are restless, Cha. Like a fish out of water."

If you look at my mother’s hands, you won’t see the soft, manicured hands you see in magazines. You will see callouses on her palms, rough from years of weaving the Phanek and grinding the Moringa leaves. You will see cracks on her heels, evidence of the miles she walked to the market every morning before the rooster even crowed. eigi ema mathu nabagi wari