Pity is Painful

The Kinga Farm stood in the middle of a forest in the hills found in the Mount Kenya region. Outsiders often could not find the road leading to the farm amid the heavy tree coverage. It was different for Muruthi Kinga. He belonged here. The farm remembered him, and he never took any wrong turn on his way home. Asu had always admired the ease with which Muruthi always managed to know when to make the right turn to reach their grandmother’s farm.

As Muruthi’s car paused at the front gate, Asu stared at the massive white bougainvillea growing over the gate pillars. The bougainvillea bush was trimmed, the gates newly painted blue, but the shapes on the gate…Asu swallowed back her gasp. The shapes on the gate looked like the ones in the pictures from the diary. Her heart sped up with excitement at the possibility.

What a good mystery it would be to solve, Asu smiled.

Her grandmother’s farm was very old. It certainly had the potential to hold a centuries-long history. She had no time to linger on the possibilities. Her father parked the car in the large front yard in front of the two-story farmhouse her grandmother called home. Everyone who lived in the large house called the matriarch of the Kinga family ‘Grandmother Siti’.

When Muruthi parked the car, grandmother came out of the main house looking healthy, not a day over sixty-five, even though she was well into her seventies. Grandmother Siti smiled wide and clapped her hands with joy when Hera leaned out the window to wave at her.

Asu watched as Hera opened the front passenger door and went running straight into her grandmother’s wide-open arms.

Muruthi lingered in the driver’s seat, retrieving an envelope from the glove compartment. Asu assumed it was full of money. Muruthi always brought his mother money to help manage the massive farm.

Muruthi looked back and his brows rose in surprise when he saw Asu still sitting in the back.

“You can run out to hug your Grandma Siti too,” Muruthi said, studying her with keen dark brown eyes.

“Let Hera do it,” Asu said, shifting her gaze to watch her grandmother and Hera hugging outside. Grandmother Siti was smiling wide as she listened to Hera greet her and ask about her recent days. “Hera’s hugs are the best.”

“You hold yourself back,” Muruthi said, his tone gentle. “Why?”

Asu met his gaze and shrugged.

“Is it because of your Mom?” Muruthi asked, a frown creasing his forehead. “She does not mean to—”

“What?” Asu asked. “Hold me at arm’s length?”

Muruthi sighed and shook his head as he looked at Grandmother Siti and Hera.

“Miria’s nature cannot be resolved with words,” Muruthi said. “She does not mean to be so cold.”

“She’s only cold with me. Why is she?” Asu asked, needing answers. She needed them now more than ever. It felt like she needed to know why her mother treated her so poorly. “Am I not her daughter?”

Muruthi looked at her with wide eyes, guilt flooding the depths of his dark eyes and Asu sucked in air at the panic in his eyes.

She had no time to examine his response because her door opened and Grandmother Siti leaned in to look at her with a smile.

“Come out, child,” Grandmother Siti said in greeting. “Hera is already taking your bags into the house. Come, Asu. Let your father go back to Nairobi. He needs to work.”

Asu held her father’s gaze for a moment longer, a sharp pain blooming in her chest as he continued to stare at her with a sad expression.

Grandmother Siti did not let her ask more, already pulling on her left arm so that she could get out. Asu grabbed the old book she had been reading all night and her book bag. She came out of the car, her chest aching at the truth in her father’s eyes. The confirmation that she was truly not Miria’s daughter hurt. It hurt so much, she could not breathe.

Then, who was her mother? Where was her true mother? Where could she go to find the one who owed her a mother’s embrace?

Grandmother Siti closed the door for her and pulled her away from the car.

“Asu,” Muruthi said, coming out of the driver’s side. He leaned on the car, looking at her with…pity in his eyes.

Asu fought back the urge to scream in frustration.

“You should go,” Grandmother Siti said to Muruthi, not letting him finish what he was going to say. “I’ll take care of the girls here. I will call you if there is anything.”

Muruthi nodded, then he gave Asu an apologetic glance, returned to the car, and drove off.

Asu stared after her father’s car filled with more questions. They rattled inside her brain, and her heart threatened to drown her with pain. The conversation she needed to have with her father was not simple. She needed someone to give her answers. A thousand answers.

Asu turned to look at Grandmother Siti.

“Grandma—”

“Your father and mother have raised you to the age of twenty,” Grandma Siti said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It was not easy for them and there is even Hera who looks up to you. The answers you seek will come later. It’s not good to fight with your parents, child. Come inside. You must be tired. Rest and let’s have a cup of tea.”

Asu allowed her grandmother to lead her into the house, fighting to push back the pain of her so-called mother’s coldness. She had tried so hard to thaw it. All her life, she had tried. It felt as though she would never find a way to get past the coldness of her mother. And now that Muruthi’s reaction had cast doubt on her origin, she could not see a time when Miria would dare to love her.

Asu let out a sigh as she entered the room her grandmother kept for her. Everything in it was clean and neat. A set of pictures lined the top of a chest of drawers. Asu moved closer and smiled as she touched each one. They were pictures of her, Hera, and their two cousins, Prisca, and Sibila. All of them were taken here at Kinga Farm.

Asu touched the happy smiles on her cousins and felt the heavy burden in her heart lift. That’s right, her favorite memories were made here at Kinga Farm. She decided to forget the unpleasantness of her mother’s coldness and immerse herself in this place.

Kinga Farm made her feel free.

“Put away your things,” Grandmother Siti said. “Join Hera and I in the kitchen. If there is no one in the kitchen, we’re all in the orange trees.”

Asu nodded, but as her grandmother started turning away from her Asu remembered her father’s panicked expression.

“Grandma Siti,” Asu said, making Siti pause at the door.

Asu gripped the old book tight in her hand and clutched the strap of her book bag. Siti’s dark gaze was filled with gentleness when she looked at Asu. There was never any sense of coldness or annoyance.

“Is Miria my mother?” Asu asked, needing to know.

For the first time in her life, Asu caught sight of doubt in Siti’s gaze. There was surprise at the question and a dash of the guilt that had filled Muruthi’s gaze.

“Why do you ask?” Siti asked.

“I—,” Asu broke off, suddenly afraid of Siti’s confirmation. What would it mean if she was not Miria’s daughter? Would it mean she stopped being a Kinga? Would she have any right to keep calling Siti ‘grandmother’?

Asu bit her bottom lip hard and shook her head.

“D-don’t t-tell me. I don’t need to know the answer,” Asu said. “Don’t tell me.”

“Asu—”

“Let me change into comfortable jeans,” Asu said. “I’ll head to the kitchen after and maybe help in the orchards.”

Siti studied her for a moment then nodded.

“Okay. Take your time, Asu,” Siti said, then hurried away.

Asu let out a sigh and moved to place her book bag on the bed. She placed the old book on her pillow and sat on the bed hoping to calm her aching heart. Taking another deep breath, Asu swallowed down the knot of tears in her throat.

“Asu,” Hera said, entering her room fifteen minutes later.

Asu had changed into comfortable blue jeans and a pink t-shirt. Her free natural hair was combed into two neat round bundles on top of her head. She was tying a pink ribbon on the left one when Hera entered her room.

“I waited for you in the kitchen and you didn’t come,” Hera said. “Grandma is outside. Let’s go find Prisca. Grandmother says she is out walking through the coffee fields. After, we can go eat oranges from the trees?”

“Are the oranges really in season?” Asu asked.

“If they’re not, I’m sure we’ll find something. There are always fruits in grandma’s farm,” Hera said. “Let’s have an awesome holiday.”

“Yes, let’s,” Asu agreed as they headed out of her room.

****

Chapter Three | Table of Contents | Chapter Five