What does it say about me that when I walk into Maria Goretti Nkumba’s office, and the more than 10 versions of pink visually assault me, I spend 15 minutes interrogating her on her colour palette? Growing up in modern Kenya reminds you that beautiful people get away with practically anything: it is an aesthetic-tocracy. That would be, of course, one way to look at it.
The other is that she’s a girl’s girl. A Barbie, the girl who says goodbye in the rain. Until she reveals herself as the kind of girl you have no idea she could be, except maybe you should have imagined as much. “What did I know about being a parent at 25?” “It felt like a failure—not the conception, but the marriage.” “I’ll forgive you, but karma will get you.” She doesn’t speak in right angles, in forked tongues. No. She’s not that kind of girl.
