In-law; Preparations

Even I could feel the note of panic in my last post. I was. Panicked.

I know, I shouldn’t be. But I just cannot help it.

Monday I woke up early. I do have too much time on my hands, now. So I have to plan it. Don’t want to waste all this beautiful free time.

First, reading some poetry. Getting lost in the world of language, and expression, and beauty. Then I had promised myself to do some reading for something that I have to push myself to do. I did. Adequately, I think.

Then I was supposed to do that which has been on my mind. Preparations. For the in-law. I rolled up my sleeves, changed clothes first, and then got down to it. Scrubbing, cleaning, dusting, wiping. You know the expression ‘nooks and crannies’? You do not have to take out a dictionary. Crannies, that is the word I want. I know it, from experience. They are the deepest, darkest, dirtiest holes that have not seen a wipe since… since… , the closest reference I can get is CHOGM. That comes once in 50 years, not so? Well, what I was doing was not spring cleaning. That is too often. And I searched them out, and dusted them. The crannies.

I think I feel for house help. They earn all their money, and more. And I have got some sympathy for M7, preparing for you know what. Imagine all those potholes which have been repaired, and dug and remodelled and… turned into crater lakes in the middle of Kampala’s roads? At least he can blame the transport minister, who can blame someone else, down the ladder of responsibility. There are 64 ministers. The chain will soon find a suitable underling.

But I cannot. Pass the blame that is. Not onto my in-law’s beautiful son. He will be the blameless one, not so?

While I was still searching for them (crannies), they arrived. The son and the in-law.

I remembered 27^th advice. I was supposed to put my best foot forward. Not into my mouth; but that is what happened. Poor me.

You see, my tribe puts a lot of emphasis on that initial greeting. The host is supposed to be settled down, ready. I was caught in the middle of chogm preparations. Unprepared. I excused myself, to finish what I was doing. Then the son came and demanded why I had not greeted his mom. I could have kicked him in the b…. They turn, change. No longer is it the person who loves me. A stranger now.

I answered that I had not finished something. I was fierce. He laughed, told me gently that in his tribe, the host greets the visitor immediately.

As I was still looking at him in anger, at his carefree laugh and lack of concern, a cock crowed.

Yes. Not a chicken. A cock crowed in the sitting room, where my mum-in-law was seated.

Will I survive this visit?

GayUganda