Words

What a difference a choice of words can make.
http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=Hzgzim5m7oU&vq=medium

Betty

 My cousin Betty, or rather my father's cousin, was born in the village in 1912. She grew up in a rather poor family, and went to live with my grandparents in the city when she was eleven, to give her a better education and more opportunities in life. It is said that she didn't even have a toothbrush, but cleaned her teeth with soot. (As she also had a sweet tooth, it's rather surprising that when she died she still had nearly all her own teeth). The first horror at the city school was that the teacher called the register not with names, but French numbers; she hastily wrote the sound of 'her' number on the back of her hand. She left school aged fourteen, took the entrance exam (simple arithmetic, a bit of geography), for Cadbury's Bournville factory and went to work there. Somewhere around that time her name changed from Lizzie as she had been known in the family, to Betty. She worked there for fifteen years and in 1938 married an airman, and in one year in 1943 had a baby and lost her husband in a tragic accident.

 In 1948 she remarried and two years later gave birth to twins, one of whom died, something she grieved all her life. Another two children were born, one of those dying as a young man following epilepsy and a lobotomy to try and rectify the condition but which left him mentally impaired. But Betty was not someone with an air of tragedy and I was delighted to get to know her in the last decade or so, having tracked her down in my family history researches. She also gave me good reports of my grandparents with whom she lived in the city and whom I never met. Something I found very heartening.

The day we returned from Africa, Betty died. She was 99 and had been looking forward to the Queen's telegram but had at least been able to tell people she was in her hundredth year.Her cheerful smile and up-to-date-ness had been something we'd enjoyed on her visits back to the village, a place she had always called home.  We have had the funeral, the ashes have been buried here. It is the end of an era. I'm so glad that my, some might say, useless hobby, found her, and I only wish I had done so sooner.

The green heart of Nairobi

Visit to the Botanical Gardens, very worthwhile.

Nairobi Street Scenes

Sorry these Africa photos are taking so long to appear. First there was the technical hitch with uploading via Picassa, and then there was life. 'If you don't go to work, what do you do, Grandma?' asked Boo. I was rather dumbfounded and still don't know the answer, but there is an awful lot of it! Water-colour painting, drama group, prayer meetings, editing........................
Anyway, back to Kenya. I had an outing with young Mrs S to this bead factory, called Kazuri. Which means 'small and beautiful' (nice name for a grandchild I thought, but perhaps not). Mostly single mothers are given employment here making bead jewellery, and without monotony, as they only do one lot of repetitive work for a day. The lovely results are sold reasonably priced in their shop and for far more in smart UK stores. I stocked up.

McMillan LIbrary

 Might this tell you something about a country's priorities? Next door to the mosque was the once famous McMillan library. I had been on a library hunt for young Mrs S who loves books and gets through them at a fair rate. There was one marked on the map in central Nairobi so we set out to find it.And were rather dismayed to find:

The books were 'elderly', reminding me of the books of childhood, hardbacks with colourful dust jackets. Dust being a very valid concern judging by the state of the shelves. Let this be a reminder to all you First World people, to appreciate the libraries you have, and use them. We did eventually find another, nearer to base, and in a much better state. The books were still fairly old but it was clean and well used. The family could join for a small fee, and borrow all of two books at a time. Hmm, will they?

Elgar in the snow

One Saturday in Hereford when the snow started. Went to see an Edward Ardizzone exhibition too.

Sightseeing

Places we visited include the Karen Blixen Museum (remember Out of Africa)

Uhuru Gardens

which celebrate Kenya's independence from Britain.
Note the gardener praying to the east in the background!

And include the fig tree planted by Jomo Kenyatta