Many seasons ago, my grandmother dressed me and my brother in our Sunday best and shepherded us to a bus stop. My parents were abroad and she was taking us for an interview at a primary school. The white headmaster, no doubt unimpressed by our Sunday best, which was really our “village best”, and our slippery grasp of the English language, declined to admit us to the school. My grandmother, whose English was non-existent and her Swahili threadbare, muttered audibly in Kikuyu, “And yet you will take them whether you want to or not.”
That image of my grandmother — female, black, uneducated and poor — speaking defiantly to the headmaster — male, white, educated and wealthy — has remained, for me, an enduring symbol of courage.
