Dreams from My Father

Roy’s bottle, and Roy went to the dinner table. He grabbed himself a plate and bent down to smell the steaming pots.
“Chapos!”
he exclaimed, dropping three chapatis onto his plate.
“Sukuma-wiki!”
he shouted at the collard greens before spooning a heap onto his plate.
“Ugali!”
he hollered, cutting off two big wedges of cornmeal cake. Bernard and the children followed his every step, repeating Roy’s words at a more tentative volume. Around the table, our aunts and Kezia beamed with satisfaction. It was the happiest I had seen any of them since my arrival.
    After dinner, while Amy helped the aunts wash up, Roy sat between Auma and me and announced that he had come back with big plans. He was going to start an import-export company, he said, selling Kenyan curios in the States. “
Chondos.
Fabrics. Wood carvings. These things are
big
over there! You sell them at festivals, art shows, specialty stores. I already bought some samples to take back with me.”
    “That’s a great idea,” Auma said. “Show me what you’ve got.”
    Roy told Bernard to fetch several pink plastic bags from one of the bedrooms. Inside the bags were several wood carvings, the sort of slick, mass-produced pieces that were sold at quick turnover to the tourists downtown. Auma turned them around in her hands with a doubtful expression on her face.
    “How much did you pay for these?”
    “Only four hundred shillings each.”
    “So much! Brother, I think you’ve been cheated. Bernard, why did you let him pay so much?”
    Bernard shrugged. Roy looked a bit wounded.
    “I told you, these are Just samples,” he said as he folded the carvings back in their wrapping. “An investment, so I will know what the market wants. You can’t make money unless you spend money, eh, Barack?”
    “That’s what they say.”
    Roy’s enthusiasm quickly returned. “You see? Once I know the market, then I will send orders back to Zeituni. We’ll build the business up slowly, you see.
Slow-ly.
Then, when we have a regular system, Bernard and Abo can go to work for the company. Eh, Bernard? You can work for me.”
    Bernard nodded vaguely. Auma studied her younger brother, then turned back to Roy. “So what’s the other big plan?”
    Roy smiled. “Amy,” he said.
    “Amy?”
    “Amy. I’m going to marry her.”
    “
What?
How long has it been since you last saw her?”
    “Two years. Three. What does it matter?”
    “You haven’t had much time to think about it.”
    “She’s an African woman. I know
that
! She
understands
me. Not like these European women, always arguing with their men.” Roy nodded emphatically, and then, as if he were being yanked by an invisible string, he jumped out of his seat and headed toward the kitchen. Taking Amy in one arm, he lifted his bottle of beer toward the ceiling.
    “Listen, everybody! Now that we are all here, we must have a toast! To those who are not with us! And to a happy ending!” With solemn deliberation, he started to pour his beer onto the floor. At least half of the beer splashed on Auma’s shoes.
    “Aggh!” Auma shouted, jumping back. “What are you doing?”
    “The ancestors must drink,” Roy said cheerfully. “It is the African way.”
    Auma grabbed a napkin to wipe the beer off her legs. “That’s outdoors, Roy! Not in somebody’s house! I swear, sometimes you’re so careless! Who will clean this up now? You?”
    Roy was about to answer when Jane rushed up with a rag in her hand. “Don’t worry, don’t worry!” she said, wiping up the floor. “We are just happy to have this one home.”
    It had been decided that after dinner we would all go out dancing at a nearby club. As Auma and I headed down the stairs ahead of the others, I heard her muttering to herself in the darkness.
    “You Obama men!” she said to me. “You get away with anything! Have you noticed how they treat him? As far as they are concerned, he can do no wrong. Like this thing with Amy. This is just an idea that has popped into his head because he’s lonely. I have nothing against Amy, but she’s as irresponsible as he is. When they’re together, they make each other worse. My mum, Jane, Zeituni—they all know this. But will they say anything to him? No. Because they’re so afraid to offend him, even if it’s for his own good.”
    Auma opened the car door and looked back at the rest of the family. They had just emerged from the shadows of the apartment building, Roy’s figure towering over the