Roots and Relations

My little brother has a very annoying tendency of finding things that are not really lost. You could safely keep your necklace in your drawer and next thing you know he has it, and when you ask how he got it, he’ll calmly tell you ‘I found it’. The annoying part is, he apparently ‘found it’ already ruined. But you clearly remember keeping it while it’s intact. So unless you are living with some ghost from Garba Tula, little man is guilty of something. Another annoying thing about his finding habit is that he never finds something you’ve misplaced or something you are actually sending him to get. That just never happens. He won’t find it, and he won’t bother looking further.

We were expecting some visitors earlier in the week. But they didn’t come until Wednesday. See, initially and as we had been reliably informed, it was meant to be just two people. A mother and a child. But woe unto us Africans. We cannot just keep our word when it comes to visiting. On the day of planning, it’s three guys, but on the visiting day you will feed at least five guys. The other two might be just friends or relatives who happened to have been bored and joined the team. I mean it’s always a bloody open invitation (to anyone) here in Africa, right? I know this paragraph probably makes me look like I don’t like visitors that much. Well, I can’t put everything down in black and white. Back to my bro, I asked the little man to help me find my slippers so I can shower before the visitors arrive. So there I was, waiting for my slippers and I hear a vehicle hooting at the gate, but there was no sign of me getting my slippers on time. So what did I do? In my black stay-at-home-sweatpants and pink top I opened the gate and let the visitors see me just as I am. Fresh from bed. It hurt no one.

Well, I ushered in the visitors. Ensured they were good. Then Mum comes in looking like a Greek goddess. I wouldn’t talk about how she looked before. How she managed to do that in the period between me opening the gate and the visitors sitting down is still a wonder. When I grow up, I want to be just like her. Even though I must say am the kind of host you find in baggy sweatpants in the middle of the day. All this time, little man had not found my slippers. I mean he is the closest to the ground, how can he not find them? Plus, it’s not like he was even looking for them anymore. He was either playing or busy ‘finding’ something that was not yet lost. So all I told myself is, his games are worth more to him than your damn slippers Paula! Find them yourself.

I used one that I found lying around. After thirty minutes or so, I was finally ‘presentable’. So I rejoined visitors and we started knowing each other.

The visitors here were from my mother’s side. It was just meant to be my aunt and cousin; but like I said before, we Africans need a lesson in visitor etiquette. There were four visitors. The aunt (the wife to my Mum’s step brother), her little daughter, another cousin that am not so sure how he fits in the equation, (See, he is the said brother’s son, but am not sure if he is the said aunt’s son. It never came up; and it’s too late to ask. Bottom line is we can never marry) and a friend who is also a colleague to said cousin.

We were all meeting for the first time. I must say I don’t really know most of my relatives. Especially those from my Mum’s side. Something that is a bit dangerous. Imagine one day reading a post from me tilted ‘A GAME OF THRONES AFFAIR; MY FORBIDEN LOVE STORY’ or a more obvious one like ‘I ALMOST MARRIED MY COUSIN’. This year the cousins from Dad’s side formed a WhatsApp group in order to plan a get together end of this year. I know just a few of them and am willing to know everyone, but there are some things that we just can’t impose or force on our relatives. Love is one of them. In the group, other than the frequent messages reminding us of the get-together budget and everyone’s role in it, there are also a string of messages complaining about us not talking to each other with accompanying questions like ‘kwani you guys don’t even love each other?’. That’s the only reason the get together thing is freaking me out. They sound nagging…

Back to the visitors. My cousin is a police. I don’t hate the police. I also don’t have undying love for the police so it was a bit hard to talk especially about his work. And somehow, it was the only thing to be talked about. Anytime I asked about so and so it would follow with ‘you know he is also in the force’ ‘aah. That one also joined’ ‘we are all taking after grandpa’. There was no way I could avoid talking about his work. Those were moments that I wished someone, not me, would bring up the weather as a topic. I also just learnt this side of the family are really into the whole police situation. By this I mean army, Air Force and Administration Police. (where the hell were they when their colleague was being a jerk to me months ago? I will revisit). My problem is, I judge all of them based on my experience with some. Sue me!

Anyway, it was a lovely day. Even if the visitors were two people more than I expected, I enjoyed that moment. I don’t even know why I was sort of complaining. Meeting my relatives has made me want to know any other out there. If you come from Bungoma, and your family has a ridiculous obsession with the Force, let’s talk. We might just be related.

Just after the visitors had left, little man brought me my slippers. He had just ‘found’ them. They were not their usual white colour when he brought them to me. But who am I to ask? I mean, he had just found them. The same way he finds stuff.

Just a little side note. My future husband may be reading this. Since I technically represent two communities equally; it is right for dear future husband to know a thing or two regarding my dowry payment. In Mum’s community, a man intending to marry a lady with a gap between her teeth (mwanya) like me, should first of all pay twelve cows to the lady’s family before official dowry negotiations begin. I know… No pressure though. It is how it is. Hehe…