Market day

Every Saturday, the same ritual. Wake up at five. Walk to the market in Nairobi's morning fog. Buy fresh mandazi from the woman who remembers my name. She asks about my children. I ask about her grandchildren. We've been doing this for twelve years. Today she gave me an extra mandazi and said 'You look thin.' I'm not thin. But I took it anyway. That's love, I think — insisting someone eat more even when they don't need to.