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Why leave the continent of Africa when so much more was waiting to be explored—the exotic, the fascinating, and the historical —all right there?

 

Geoff would continue on to Ghana, Togo, Benin, and Egypt. In Cairo, he would see the pyramids in Luxor and King Tut’s tomb; in Aswan, the dam that controls the Nile's floods.

 

Meanwhile, I would be missing it all. 

 

Still, I headed off to the USA. 

 

I left Cape Town, South Africa, on a British Airways 10-hour flight to London. After a four-hour delay, I boarded a British Airways 7-hour flight to Seattle, WA. From there, I took a $130 Uber ride to an Airbnb.

 

Margo, my oldest daughter, was having a baby shower in anticipation of her December baby. We had originally planned to stay in Africa for six months or maybe a year. Then a baby was on the way, and suddenly our grand African adventure would end after five months.

 

I wanted grandchildren so badly that I had nearly given up hope. But now my dream had come true. I was not about to miss it, not for voodoo in Togo, the pyramids in Cairo, and certainly not for a dam. 

 

The shower theme was a casual, cozy fall afternoon. There would be snacks, onesie painting, and baby bingo. I was in charge of decorations, which sounded simple until I learned that today’s expectant mothers want nothing to do with baby pink and blue.

 

Margo was shocked when she saw the helium tank I was carrying when I arrived to decorate. I needed the tank to inflate the “Hello Baby” giraffe and balloons. Stickers on the glass-paned door leading to the backyard read, “We Can Bearly Wait to Meet You,” and a “Hello Baby” sign stretched across the fireplace. By the time I was done, the house looked casual and cozy, yet party-ready.

 

Once the guests arrived and the shower was rolling, Dena, Margo’s little sister, gave a heartwarming speech. The memories she had of Margo being a big sister made Dena certain she’d be a great mother. 

 

Margo would always have her back. Margo stayed up past midnight to help glue together her poster board for her seventh-grade science project. Margo knew how to make anything fun. Being locked out of the house one afternoon, they created a magazine with groundbreaking articles and mind-twisting puzzles. Also, Margo was a terrifying disciplinarian. Dena recalled running for her life to get into a bathroom and lock the door, so Margo wouldn’t kill her.  Most importantly, Margo’s kids wouldn’t grow up to be snobby brats. 

 

Sweet speech, but the hit of the afternoon was Shower Bingo, a game from the late 1950s. My mother had used it for my sister Jeanette’s baby shower. My friends used it at my shower, and now we were playing it at Margo’s.

 

As daughters tend to do, Margo had some reservations about the game. But I brought a bag full of gifts from Africa for the winners of each round, and I got my way. 

 

Some bingo words baffled the players.

 

“What are rubber pants?”

“What was boric acid used for?”

“What is pablum?”

 

Most guests went home with a gift: earrings from an African slum made from a bone, colorful African-print circular cloth fans, or tea bags I stole from hotels where I stayed. The person who received the tea bags also stole hotel tea bags and was delighted with the spiced tea from Zanzibar, Mount Kilimanjaro black tea, and South African Buchu.

 

Margo had to admit that the helium balloons looked like a much-needed addition to the decorations and the bingo had brought us all together. One question remained: what to do with the helium tank. Dena suggested donating it to a University of Washington fraternity for whippets.

 

Margo thanked me for coming from so far away, but gave me a gentle push out the front door.  I walked the half hour back to our Airbnb, reliving the party.

 

Was it worth missing four countries in Africa?

 

Yes. It would have been worth missing all of Africa to become a grandmother.

 

My son gets married on May 21, 2027, and hopefully I’ll be bringing out the Shower Bingo box to celebrate another addition to our family tree: 

 

Some traditions should never die.