The heavenly aroma of bean stew permeated the house as Narvari put the food in front of her grandmother. She patted her grandmother’s shoulder.

“Here you go, Anana. I made you your favorite rice with egg and beans stew.” She had outdone herself this time. Narvari grinned.

She settled in one of the dining chairs and quickly dug into her food.

“When did I say that was my favorite?” Anana asked.

Narvari put her hand on her chest in exaggerated disbelief. “You don’t remember? These were your very words this morning, ‘My dear precious granddaughter, can you please make me my favorite rice with egg and bean stew? Thank you very much. You know you are my favorite person in the world and everyone else can go to hell.’”

Anana glared at her while she slowly stirred rice and stew. “You keep talking shit, child, and I will come over there and whoop you little black ass into Sunday.”

Narvari chuckled. She would not even be surprised if Anana suddenly pounced on her. The old woman was well past ninety and yet had no intention of slowing down. Every day, she would often go about the house doing some menial jobs like plucking out weeds and watering her small vegetable garden. When Narvari tried to stop her, she would protest saying that she would get old if she sat down all day and did nothing. Anana had been old all of Narvari’s life so what the hell was she talking about?

There was not a single strand of black hair left on her head and her eyes, though less sharp than before, were still full of life.

Anana silently ate her food. She often said that eating gave her time to think and so she didn’t like to make any conversation as she ate. It was a sentiment Narvari wholeheartedly agreed with.

Later, when they were done with their meal, Narvari returned their plates to the kitchen and washed them. She joined Anana in the living room where they watched a goofy cartoon of a forever-happy yellow sponge and a dark gloomy squid. Although Narvari preferred anime, this show always put a smile on her face. That reminded her of the time she and Jimbaga had a profoundly liberating conversation about the blasphemy of calling ‘anime’ a ‘cartoon.’

Narvari chuckled out loud.

“You’re not going crazy on me, are you?” the old woman suddenly said, eyeing Narvari.

That garnered a peal of laughter from Narvari. This old woman didn’t mince words when it came to speaking her mind. People said she was just like her grandmother in that regard. But honestly, Anana took it to another level.

The amusement in Anana’s eyes dimmed. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Okay.” Narvari lowered the volume of the TV before turning her attention to Anana.

“I sent your application to the university.”

It took a second for Anana’s words to register in Narvari’s brain. “You did what?”

“You heard me, child.”

Trying her hardest to keep calm, Narvari asked quietly, “Which school?”

“That school you’ve always wanted to go to in South Africa,” she said.

The University of Cape Town. Narvari bit her lips. “That was a long time ago.” Narvari paused thoughtfully. “How did you even send my application?”

“What? Just because I’m old you think I can’t do it?” She rolled her eyes. “I will have you know that I did it myself… with Motongo’s help, of course.”

“Motongo?” Narvari gaped. “You made Motongo send my application?”

Anana shrugged. “I wasn’t about to let his computer skills go to waste.”

“When did that happen? How come he never told me about it?”

A mischievous glint lit in Anana’s brown eyes. “I told him I would die soon and haunt him for eternity if he told you anything. I knew you wouldn’t let it happen if you found out about it. I mean, look at how you’re reacting right now.”

Narvari gritted her teeth. “That’s because I told you I would go to school right here in Sharmandi.” Why was this old woman so goddamn stubborn? “I already told you that several times.”

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“I know what you said, child, and I’m not listening.” Narvari opened her mouth to protest, but the old woman cut her off. “I know you still want to go to that school. You can’t fool me.”

“Well, you can’t force me to leave either.”

“I can. And I will.”

“I’m not leaving Sharmandi.”

“You can’t stay here all your life.”

“Why not? This place is great.”

“Sure. But if you have the opportunity to see the world, you should take it. It’s always what you’ve wanted, isn’t it?”

“What I want, doesn’t matter.” This conversation needed to end. “I’m not leaving. End of story. The WPU needs me here. Especially with all these raids.”

“Is that really why you don’t want to leave, Narvari? Your term as captain ends in a few months. ” Anana rested a gentle hand on Narvari’s cheek. “Why is it that every time I bring this up it turns into a fight between us? All I want for you is the best, you know that right?”

“Anana, I can have the best right here,” said Narvari. “I won’t leave you here all by yourself. I won’t leave my family, okay? I won’t be like him.”

Narvari clenched her jaws in a pathetic attempt to quell her anger. As much as she tried, she just could not keep it at bay. Why did she have to be the one to think about him? He was the one who left them. What good parent would leave their twelve-year-old child and aged mother behind? Alone. She won’t become her father. And now Anana wanted her to be just like him? Why?

What was worse was that as a child, Narvari had always wanted to be like him. As much as she hated to admit it, Yabaga was once a great father. He raised Narvari from infancy and showered her with so much love and affection that she often forgot she had no mother.

What Narvari most admired about her father was that even though he doted on her and would do anything to make her happy, he also ensured that Narvari trained earnestly, honing her shooting and fighting skills to near perfection before she was ten years old. While children in Sharmandi would begin their self-defense training at ten years old, Narvari was already winning shooting and fighting competitions against adults long before she was ten years old. It was all thanks to her father. These were some of the happiest times of Narvari’s life until everything changed six years ago.

Yabaga suddenly left Sharmandi. He never explained anything to her. He simply left. Narvari woke up one day and her father was gone. In the beginning, Narvari thought he would soon return. But a year passed, and two more years followed. He never returned. Even still, by sheer stubbornness, Narvari had always believed that her father would return. By the time she turned seventeen, however, she stopped believing in that childish nonsense. Now she couldn’t care less.

If the man didn’t want to be with his family anymore, there was no point in wanting to be with him either. Her father left Anana behind. She would not make that same mistake. If she had to give up on her dream of seeing the world, then so be it.

Narvari strained back tears stinging her eyes. They were not from sadness. All she felt was anger. She would always have this reaction whenever someone brought up her father. Did she really no longer care? Why did she still hurt even though she claimed she didn’t care anymore?

“Narvari,” said Anana.

Narvari avoided her grandmother’s eyes. She wouldn’t be able to hold back her tears if she looked into those ancient eyes full of wisdom. Sometimes she hated how Anana could see right through her hard exterior. The old woman was literally the only one who had seen Narvari cry.

“My child, look at me.”

Narvari gazed at Anana.

“Do not be angry at your father,” she said.

“Why do you always defend him? You should be angry he left.”

Anana paused. She sighed. “As a mother, the happiness of your child is what matters most to you.”

“Clearly my happiness as her daughter does not matter to him.”

“Oh, my child.” Anana’s eyes softened. “Your father cares about your happiness. I know you know that.”

“Then why did he leave?”

“He had to. Someday, you’ll understand.”

No, she would not. Parents were supposed to raise their children until they were old enough to be independent. Had her father left today, she wouldn’t have complained. But she was still a child when the man left. How was she supposed to understand that?

What could be so important that her father would leave them behind? The man had a great life here in Sharmandi. He was the captain of WPU and had a loving family and a nation that respected him. What more could he ask for?

“Anana,” Narvari whispered. “Please be honest with me. Why did my father leave us?”

She knew her grandmother was not telling her something. When she was younger, she would always ask Anana why her father had left. But the old woman would simply tell her that Yabaga would soon return for her. Eventually, that answer started pissing her off so she stopped asking.

“I am no longer a child, Anana,” she said in frustration. “You don’t have to hide things from me anymore.”

Anana sighed. “Your father,” she paused, “your father had to leave.”

“Why?”

“He was unhappy.”

Narvari raised a brow. “Unhappy with what? ”

“With his empty life. He was dying inside from depression. Leaving was the only way he could find his happiness .”

“What?” Narvari couldn’t believe it. Yabaga was depressed? When? How? The man didn’t find happiness in his own family but went out to search for something else that would make him happy. Did Anana expect her to believe this? Why had she even bothered to ask? She should have known Anana would try to spin this to make her father look like the victim here. She was always defending him even after all this time.

“There’s no point talking about this,” Narvari stood up. She had to get out before she said something she would regret later.

“Narvari, where are you going?”

“I have a meeting.”

“But your meeting with the Nnadago begins at noon. It’s still morning.”

Narvari glanced at the wall clock. It was 9:35 am. Why did she always lose in an argument with her grandmother?

“I’m going outside. I need some air.”

“Narvari,” Anana called out to her before she could storm out of the house.

Narvari halted. She glanced at her grandmother. Narvari wanted to kick herself when she saw the sadness on Anana’s face.

Anana gave a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “It’s nothing. You should go.”