My father is a teacher of English. I picked up my reading from him, on top of all the other things sons pick from their fathers. I’m often told we’re alike. I shudder at the thought. Youthful vanity cannot yet let me accept that indeed we may be (that adage about growing up into your parents may have a morsel of truth.) On one recent Thursday night we played Scrabble, him, my youngest sister and me. Loser(s) buys lunch. So, geared up I was for a burger sometime in the week (I’ve never lost Scrabble to my family. This is an invitation for you to come kick my arse, please), and the rule changed: winner buys lunch (hawa watu wangu lazima ukae radar nao.) Yet, when all things are considered everyone comes out a winner: we spend time together enjoying each other’s company, we laugh and my sister learns new words. And, perhaps, it’s my father and his wife, who also happens to be our mum, who are the biggest winners. I can say we didn’t out too bad because of them.