This is one of the books I read over and over while growing up. Specific scenes still stay with me: Kondima's white and pink pajamas, the wonderful banana packets used to cook food, adventures in the village and at sea. Writing about it, many of the simple and just right illustrations come to mind, for instance the way Kondima's post-haircut tendrils framed her face. I wonder if it would seem outdated to someone reading it now. But perhaps there is something universal in the story, a girl's heroic journey.