Homecoming

We are sitting in our white Toyota Corolla with the engine running, unable to drive forwards or reverse. We are stuck in the driveway of a village primary school, surrounded on all sides by children in their school uniform, a swarm of red jumpers, buzzing with excitement.

We have been invited to attend the homecoming of four junior athletes from the school who won gold medals at the recent African Cross-country Championships. Godfrey has come with us, but he's just gone off to find some water. On his return, he can not get back in the car, or even anywhere close to the car. The swarm is reaching fever pitch now, shrieking and shouting hysterically, hands thrusting in through the open windows, pulling at our hair, grabbing hold of us. Godfrey shouts out to Adharanand to reverse, and starts to pull children out of the way. Slowly we inch backwards, winding up the windows as we go, Lila and Uma clinging on to each other in the back seat.

Godfrey takes us up to the centre of the village, a strip of dirt road with a handful of wooden shops on either side. We walk into a small blue building marked 'Hotel', which is actually a cafe. There are a few men seated at wooden tables, rickety chairs, benches along the walls, dusty red floor, blue painted walls, a framed quotation "failure is just a setback on the road to success". A wooden counter stands in one corner, a pile of solid-looking buns on a shelf behind the glass front. In the other corner, a butcher's shop shares the tiny room, the headless body of a cow hanging from a hook.

Just after one o'clock, three hours later than scheduled, a parade of cars arrives carrying the junior athletes, their families and local dignitaries. The schoolchildren line the driveway to the school, chanting and dancing as the athletes wave down at them from the back of a truck. The homecoming has begun.

Two marquees have been put up in the field by the school, shading rows of white plastic chairs, one for guests, the other for the athletes and their parents. A wooden table stands on the grass in front of the marquee, and beyond this sit the schoolchildren. Villagers sit on the grassy slopes behind them.

We take our places on the white plastic chairs, and as special guests are handed tinsel wreaths to hang round our necks. Ossian immediately begins to pull mine apart, keeping himself occupied for a good ten minutes or so while a group of children perform a song. And then the speeches begin.

An hour later and Lila and Uma are getting restless and hungry, wriggling about on Godfrey's lap. They've finished reading all the books they brought with them and there is no end in sight to the speeches. I take Ossian to play on the slope behind the marquee. Below us is a secondary school playing field. The children are coming out of class, wandering into the field. Suddenly they are running over in our direction, pointing and waving. Ossian and I wave back.

In our field, a group of women come over and ask if they can take a photo with us. I agree, and we soon find ourselves posing with one lady after another. Each one wants to hold Ossian for the picture, but he won't let them and starts to cry when they insist. After a while, the smile muscles in my face start to ache, so we get up and walk back to marquee. A cake is being presented to the children by six women. Now even Godfrey's making a speech. Where will it end?

It is past five o'clock, and there are still several more dignitaries left to speak before "lunch", which is the last thing on the agenda. The hot sun and eternal speeches have subdued the schoolchildren sitting on the grass. They stare at us with glazed eyes as we get up to leave. Lila and Uma have had enough, but before we can go, more photographs have to be taken with people we've never met.

We walk back to our car, waving goodbye to the schoolchildren in the other field, who are still standing, cheering.

It's a beautiful drive back, green sloping fields, wooden fences, round thatched huts, pine forests and the escarpments of the Rift Valley. No speeches in sight.