23/12/2015 at exactly 6:30pm.
After being enthralled by the splendid sunset going down at around 6:00pm, my little sister and I decided we should get back home. Our “press conference” scheduled at 6:30pm was almost due and we were all set. We got home ten minutes earlier; thus able to set up the meeting area. The laptop was connected to the projector and presentation on power point opened. I was the moderator, well, because I am the calm one and wouldn’t lash out in case we got a negative response from our investors (read parents). The agenda of the meeting was to discuss about Christmas clothes and shoes. Long, long time ago, in the house of Nakurro, we would enjoy putting on new clothes and shoes on 25th and 31st of December, as well as the 1st of the new year. Guess what? Not any more. I cannot explain how that came to an end. The same way I cannot explain how our domestic worker left and now we have to do all the house chores.
Anyway, we addressed the issue in full confidence. We even reminded them that we love them and were grateful for all they had done. Using statements like “We know it’s not easy to raise kids like us; at times we are stubborn but best believe it that we try to be good. We portray our best behaviour just as you have taught us our dear parents…”
We tried our level best to restore the lost glory, traditions we threw under the bus and acted as if they never existed. As if they did not mean anything. It is not fair.
My mum clears her throat. This is not a good sign. My dad feigns a smile. I take a step back, shut down the power point presentation and a for a second, highly regret why I partook in organizing the meeting. I want to say, “Never mind dear parents. That was just a short skit. We simply wanted to prove to you guys that we have other talents like acting.”

My scalp is aching from all the scratching. Long statements were said and again reminded how ungrateful we were.
Moral of the story: Before you pitch your lovely ideas to your African parents, please make sure you have strong back up like Christian neighbours, the Priest/Pastor and the cool auntie.
I will be calling Daisy Riri from VaaKenya so that she can revamp my old shoes with ankara material because apparently, that is all I can afford.
Happy festivities people. šŸŽŠšŸŽ‰
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