It is 2008, and I am sitting in my grandmother’s room, at the Salt Lick Safari Lodge within the Taita Hills Wildlife sanctuary in Kenya.
It is a gorgeous place to stay, the villas appear almost rocket-shaped, standing high off the ground to prevent any wildlife from getting inside the rooms. All around there is lush greenery. Outside her window, many animals, including elephants, deer, and giraffes pass by. It felt like we were witnessing a miracle, but I felt there was more she should be seeing.
“Please, Nani, come with us, let’s go, I want you to see lions and zebras,” I begged her. A few of the animals were located in different parts of the sanctuary, away from the lodge, and I wanted her to witness them. “No, no, I don’t feel like it. But don’t worry about me missing out, I am too blessed. Look outside of my window, every animal I would ever want to see is right here.”
I remember feeling upset at the time, thinking my grandmother was being lazy, not wanting to leave her room. But when she passed away, just a few months ago, my grief let me have a fresh perspective on her take on life.
My grandmother had a special outlook on life, no matter where she was
For my grandmother, less was more. She didn’t believe in running after every experience, but filled her life with gratitude over every experience the universe allowed her to have.
She would speak only in positives, having an outlook on life that I now try to emulate in my own. I remember a time when I was very anxious about a job I had applied for. When I shared my worries with her, she raised her hands in prayer and then told me, “The best thing for you is already happening, I know it for sure.” I did get the job, and I sometimes feel her positivity was a big reason why.
She sometimes struggled a bit with leaving spaces, whether home or her room while traveling, but she was still able to live a lot. My Google searching tells me she might have suffered from a mild form of agoraphobia, a specific anxiety some people have about leaving their home, or their safety, to go to the unknown. Maybe that’s why she wouldn’t leave the lodge to see the animals. I’ll never know for sure, but it doesn’t matter. In my eyes, Nani was always curious and she had the stories to prove it.
She appreciated her travels in a way many don’t
Though my grandmother was a bit of a homebody, she loved to travel. Even as a young woman, she would go on small trips to nearby places, such as Mussoorie and Goa, with my grandfather.
There’s a black and white picture of her on a boat with my grandfather taken during one of these trips. When I see it, I’m reminded of how beautiful and wonderful her youth was, and how she has lived a life that was so rich in experiences.
Through the stories she told me, I learned that she loved dressing up, getting her picture taken, and building friendships with people she met along the way. It always seemed to me like she was the type of woman who, when she walked into the room, brought joy with her.
She made sure to listen to those she met along the way
My grandmother was always able to connect with strangers. I think this may have been because of her ability to listen so well and be empathetic.
When my family was visiting Kenya she befriended the housekeeper, Awfa, who was assisting us for a few weeks. Despite speaking only to one another in broken English, they seemed to connect on a deep level.
I would catch them chatting and laughing, several times a day. Awfa, a shy, 20-something, would share details about her love life with my grandmother, looking for guidance. The two had quickly become dear friends, despite their vast age gap. I remember Awfa weeping the day we left, because she said she would miss my grandmother. Nani just had that type of impact on people.
She knew how to be content
In all my travels with her, I never saw my grandmother checking off a so-called bucket list, or getting upset over missing out on something. She was simply satisfied and grateful for what she had and what she was able to experience. It didn’t take much to make my grandmother happy, and she tried to pass that sentiment on to me as well.
When we travelled to Dubai together a few years ago, I remember this moment, when we were sitting on the sand at Marina Beach. She laughed at something, and pushed me a little, and we both rolled over the sand. I still smile thinking about that moment, when we were just two people, being silly in the sand together, not caring about the rest of the world. I want to have more moments like that in her memory.
My grandmother passed away in November, 2024 and I miss her every day. Through her wisdom, I came to understand the meaning of finding happiness in where you are. I just wish I had the chance to tell her, one last time, that I loved sharing these experiences with her.
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