I’m pregnant, Mum.

I know.

Then why haven’t you said anything?

I was waiting for you to open up about it.


So who’s responsible?

I’m also getting married, Mum. End of month.

What? What’s the hurry?

We don’t want our baby to be illegitimate.

Who’s the man?

Ahm…you’ll attend the wedding, won’t you?

Of course baby, but who is…?

I’ll go try on my gown tomorrow, will you come with me?

Yes. Yes…

Cool…and you don’t mind giving me away on D-Day, do you?

Shouldn’t your Dad do that?

He would have, if he wasn’t my baby’s father too.
 A week later, I found Mum sitting with her back against the swing, the same spot where she gave birth to me in 1990. Grandma said I came too fast. There was no time for hospital.
 On her white skirt, Mum had scribbled, “Sorry I’ll miss your wedding baby”.

‘Pictory’ — A picture and a story speaking of and from each other.

Story — Harriet Anena

Picture — Kimani Wandaka

Originally published at kimaniwandaka.wordpress.com on January 26, 2016.