yellow grass, their black, white, and roan markings like lichen against the earth. We turned down a narrower footpath
and came to the entrance of a hedged-in compound. Kezia stopped and pointed to what looked like a random pile of
rocks and sticks, saying something to Roy in Luo.
“That’s Obama’s grave,” Roy explained. “Our great-grandfather. All the land around here is called K’Obama-‘Land
of the Obama.’ We are Jok’Obama-‘the people of Obama.’ Our great-great-grandfather was raised in Alego, but he
moved here when he was still a young man. This is where Obama settled, and where all his children were born.”
“So why did our grandfather go back to Alego?”
Roy turned to Kezia, who shook her head. “You have to ask Granny that question,” Roy said. “My mum thinks maybe
he didn’t get along with his brothers. In fact, one of his brothers is still living here. He’s old now, but perhaps we can
see him.”
We came to a small wooden house where a tall, handsome woman was sweeping the yard. Behind her, a young
shirtless man sat on the porch. The woman shaded her eyes with her forearm and began to wave, and the young man
slowly turned our way. Roy went up to shake hands with the woman, whose name was Salina, and the young man stood
up to greet us.
“Eh, you people finally came for me,” Abo said, hugging each of us in turn. He reached for his shirt. “I had heard you
were coming with Barry so long ago!”
“Yah, you know how it is,” Roy said. “It took us a while to get organized.”
“I’m just glad you came. I’m telling you, I need to get back to Nairobi.”
“You don’t like it here, eh?”
“It’s so boring, man, you would not believe it. No TV. No clubs. These people in the country, I think they are slow. If
Billy hadn’t shown up, I would have gone crazy for sure.”
“Billy’s here?”
“Yah, he’s around somewhere....” Abo waved his hand vaguely, then turned to me and smiled. “So, Barry. What have
you brought me from America?”
I reached into my bag and pulled out one of the portable cassette players that I had bought for him and Bernard. He
turned it over in his hands with a thinly disguised look of disappointment.
“This brand is not a Sony, is it?” he said. Then, looking up, he quickly recovered himself and slapped me on the back.
“That’s okay, Barry. Thank you! Thank you.”
I nodded at him, trying not to get angry. He was standing beside Bernard and their resemblance was striking: the same
height, the same slender frame, the same smooth, even features. Just shave off Abo’s mustache, I thought to myself,
and they could almost Pass as twins. Except for...what? The look in Abo’s eyes. That was it. Not just the telltale
redness of some sort of high but something deeper, something that reminded me of young men back in Chicago. An
element of guardedness, perhaps, and calculation. The look of someone who realizes early in life that he has been
wronged.
We followed Salina inside the house, and she brought in a tray of sodas and biscuits. As she set down the tray, a
strapping, mustached young man, as good-looking as Salina and as tall as Roy, walked through the door and let out a
yell.
barré
(Barré)
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