My grandmother was born in a small village in British Southern Cameroon in 1947. At 10, she completed her last year of school. At 16, she had her first child. At 27, she had her 5th, her first daughter. At 40, that daughter earned a scholarship to study in the US. At 54 her husband passed away from HIV/AIDS. At 55, her first grandchild was born in the US. At 76, that grandchild graduated from Harvard.
This sequence of events doesn't make sense – and yet when I look at my grandmother, it seems like a forgone conclusion.
