My paternal Grandparents’ home in Bukoto holds some the haziest and yet most vivid memories for me. I have vague recollections of playing in front of the house, but I very clearly remember praying for the dead in the backyard. I sort of recall a cow that supplied the milk, although there could have been more than one. I don’t think I ever noted that large tree, but I conjure up images of family members sitting in the shade. I very much remember Aunt Ellie perched on the front steps by the front door, scolding me for wearing pants and not a dress, like a proper young lady.
I can’t picture the inside of the home, but I think it was dark. Did I ever sleep there? I remember having large Sunday meals consisting of plantains. I will never forget Jajja’s funeral. I have a blurred memory of sitting in the front yard with her husband, and him laughing about something, not too long before he also passed away. In my mind, it was always quiet at this house, unlike my other Jajja’s home by the water.