Dear Mama,
The photographs arrived safely, not even a little bent. You look ravishing, especially in the pink and purple wigs. I am so glad that Uncle Richard took you for a full glam and photo session. I guess I’ll need to stop calling him Uncle Dick.
I giggled when I read that you’ve entered your Nicki Minaj era!
I’m so glad the chemo is going well and that your medical team are optimistic you’ll make a full recovery.
I’m settling into the office nicely. It’s a small team: the boss, Gemma, who likes terrible gin; an American girl, Meg, who is responsible for public relations; and two African girls, Mercy and Jane, responsible for collecting data to compile reports. Technically, I’m in charge of Mercy and Jane, and I’m trying to be a good supervisor.
Last week, Mercy and Jane, took me out for lunch to a place called Mama something or other. Lots of Kenyan places are called Mama something or other. They remind me of all the Italian places in Pittsburgh. We had fish and ugali (like a polenta, but made with white flour, and quite bland), and a tomato salad with hot spices that locals call kachumbari. We ate with our hands, like real locals!
Jane mostly works in the field, travels all over to rescue girls. Mercy collates data. Nice girls. Sometimes, they are a bit slow, but maybe that’s because Africans have a different sense of time. Maybe I’ll gift them watches as a gentle hint.
I have yet to go on a safari, and when I do, I’ll send pictures of giraffes and lions and elephants.
There are monkeys all over where I live. Sometimes, if I leave the windows open, the cheeky creatures will come inside and steal fresh fruit. You’ll see them when you and uncle Richard come to visit.
Please hug Papa for me.
All my love,
D