Dear India

Dear India, I remember the first time I came to see you. You were enchanting through my eyes. It was a long journey to get to you. I was shivering when I finally met you with goose pimples all over my chocolate-brown skin. You embraced me with smiles and you took your time, holding my hands while showing me everything you had. I was captivated by the silky feel of your children’s hair, that jet black curly mane falling from the full napes of their neck and lying on their shoulders.

In her inaugural piece for Kenya Imagine, Tracy Nnanwubar charms us with her narrative on living in India.

Visiting home and feeling the foreign pinch

New Year’s Greetings, I am reading Christine Stephanie Nicholls’ Red Strangers: The White Tribe of Kenya. The makeda calls lighter skinned black people yellow and my brother was once told that he was so light he was turning yellow. Red strangers, yellow people. This younger brother, who is at school in cooler climates is home for the holidays, this time he has brought someone with him, a foreign someone, and such visits being what they are, it turned into a touristy holiday- show the visitor around the house.

Read more on my brother's nightmare as he visits home.