Bibi. Bibi yangu. My Grandmother. Her Tree. Bibi’s tree is yet to be a tree . . . but it is a tree to me. A plant that is supposed to reach her God. A plant that we water, so it grows. A plant that we pray over hoping it protects her. Even if it […]
Bibi. Bibi yangu. My Grandmother. Her Tree. Bibi’s tree is yet to be a tree . . . but it is a tree to me. A plant that is supposed to reach her God. A plant that we water, so it grows. A plant that we pray over hoping it protects her. Even if it […]
