Whenever I go shopping, I always keep my eyes peeled for the same thing. No matter what, I have to browse through the purse section. You see, I’ve always been in need of a good, timeless purse. I do already have some purses. One was a gift, bright yellow and honestly just not my style. One is a lighter brown, but so small it might as well be a wallet. Neither of them are right, nor none of the ones I see in the stores are right either. Specifically, I’m always looking for the perfect dark brown leather purse. I’m really just looking for a purse like my grandma’s.
My grandma, my Kaa, has had the same purse throughout my entire life. Throughout her entire life, it seems like. Its dark brown made from smooth leather, with a wide leather flap closure and gold hardware. This purse has followed her everywhere. It’s been by my Kaa’s side for many decades. I can imagine the countless times Kaa shuffled through her purse to reach for her passport in a British airport on a trip back from Nigeria; probably thinking that she left it behind but forgetting she just put it in her back pocket. I know that purse was with her on all her bus rides through Downtown Columbus on her way to her Water Aerobics classes and trips to the free food market . For all I know, that purse was with her when she watched MLK’s ‘I Have a Dream’ speech all the way back in 1963.
Kaa is loud, confident, unapologetic, and unwavering. When she wasn’t visiting Nigeria for months at a time, she was living with my family or was up the street living with my aunt. She was the first voice I’d hear in the morning. Most likely engaging in some unserious, but loud nonetheless, argument about Nigerian Politics or the recent breaking news on CNN. When Kaa was living with us, I could expect our kitchen table to always have a tablecloth on it, covered in flour and sugar and baking pans full of sweet potato pies, pound cakes, or muffins. She would spend hours at a time looking through her copy of the Joy of Cooking and her black composition notebook full of handwritten recipes. She would spend hours before actually baking, making sure we had all the ingredients and laying them out of the kitchen table. I remember one time when she made muffins and used salt instead of sugar. I remember my aunt and Mom laughing about it for hours.
Kaa is antagonistic, volatile, and critical. I think Kaa was my first bully. From as long as I can remember, she would comment on my attitude, my weight, my hair, basic parts of my identity, or my developing identity, at least. My hair was always too dry. I was always too loud. I was always eating too unhealthily and getting too big. When I think about it, I really can’t recall her saying anything nice about anyone in the family. She demanded acceptance and tolerance, though she never gave it in return. At least three times a day, I could count on her yelling at my mom or me to be quiet while we watched the evening news and then continuing to talk over the TV throughout the whole broadcast. It used to utterly perplex me how she didn’t realize that she was doing the very thing that she didn’t want us to do. It still does. There are hundreds of examples I could choose from, but it’s so hard to remember. Especially since Kaa has been so different the past few years because of her dementia diagnosis.
Kaa is quiet, disoriented, and repetitive. She’s gotten softer over the years since her diagnosis. She still loves to bake, but my mom has to keep a close eye on her. She still loves to talk over people when we all watch TV together. She still has the same purse, though she can never remember where it is. I watch her search for her purse just like how she searches for her memories. I search for a purse in a similar way Kaa searches. I’m not too sure what I’m really looking for, though; my womanhood or just a really good purse that will last me through all the phases of my life. All I know is that when I find it, I’ll know.
Jameela Askira is a graduating senior at DePaul University, studying psychology and neuroscience. Her writing style is typically humanities and science based but, in her senior year, she started getting into creative nonfiction and really enjoyed experimenting with the genre.