Baby Kevin

Ester's sister, Carol, lives on the soothing banks of Lake Victoria about an hour’s drive from Lugazi. Carol will stop by and stay with us for a few days, sleeping on the decaying foam mattress in the tiny room pushed up against our kitchen. Her presence ushers in a bit of reprieve from the chaos that can occupy our house; she’ll clean the kitchen, wash the dishes, prepare dinner, launder clothes. And she doesn’t come alone; usually accompanying her is her daughter, Baby Kevin.



“How old is Baby Kevin now?” I asked Carol last week. It had been a couple of months since I had seen her and the child.

Carol’s brow furrowed.

“She’s… she’s about a year.” She paused and looked up. “She’ll be a year on the eleventh.”

“The eleventh!” I exclaimed. “That’s tomorrow!” I grabbed the fat-faced child puttering at my feet and brought her to my chest.

“Baby Kevin! Did you hear that? Your birthday is tomorrow! What do you want to do?”

The baby stared at me blankly.

“Do you want to go clubbing in Kampala? We can get drunk and dance all night!”

The baby remained expressionless, pawing at the air. Carol laughed.

“Don’t worry,” I said to Carol. “I don’t think she wants to do that anyway.”

The next day passed without a wild party, even without cakes or cards; although it was not without the usual experiences unusual to America.

Baby Kevin sitting on the edge of our kitchen counter four feet above a concrete floor playing with a sharp knife

Ugandans generally don’t recognize birthdays; my kids don’t even know the dates marking their entry into this world. Agnes last week told me she was fifteen.

"No, Aggie. You are sixteen. You turned sixteen in May,” I had to inform her.

And so just as Aggie’s, Baby Kevin’s special day went uncelebrated.

The day following her first birthday, I journeyed with Baby Kevin and Carol to their home and saw for the first time the shores of the mighty Lake Victoria, source of the Nile, the greatest lake on the continent.

I swim along with African rhythms more fluidly with each passing day, appreciating its gifts. Here is a life without presents, ribbons, blowers, parties, cakes and cards. A place without the excessive or even, at times, the needed. But it's a life, in some ways, that is more vibrant; through it's lack it instills a sense of reality and gratitude; forcing you to appreciate what's below your feet and in your arms.

Carol with Baby Kevin at Lake Victoria