How To Piss Off Your Parents #MuwadoLoveLetter2


The reason I choked on my cup of green tea that time was because when I saw that black velvet box in your palm all that came to mind was how the odds are not in our favor. They probably never have been.
There is no way you expect me to compete with the average lady from back home with a behind that would put a Kenyan socialite to shame. Neither can I throw it down in the kitchen. And I am not anywhere close to fully learning how to. I am not submissive either. I have no idea what that word means and neither does pretty much every other educated feminist lady that I know. The ones in my circles anyway. We are too independent for that nonsense. We know how to look pretty. We know how to cuss the fuck out of random men who ogle at us as we walk by. We know how to demand for what we want but that “s” word, that is a concept foreign to us. So by the time you are introducing me to the family, I can imagine the glances of disapproval coming from every one. They’ve heard about these dangerous Nairobi girls. They sent you to get an education. You did come back with a degree. And a girl who can barely speak her mother-tongue let alone cook a nice hot plate of Ugali for a large crowd of potential in-laws.
They will probably wonder why out of every single possible female, you landed on me. I don’t have super model looks although I am tall. I don’t have one of those classy jobs. I spent 4 years pursuing a degree in Commerce only to end up with the job title blogger. Of all the things I could be I chose to be that one that sits at that one corner in Java and bangs the keys on her laptop for a living. I know you have no problem with this. You support me and even help me because in this field at times I find it hard to pay my bills but I can already hear your family asking when I will get a real job. They will see me in all my black lipstick and nappy 4C hair glory and judge me so badly.
But that’s not the only problem we shall encounter.
My family will think I have lost my mind. It wasn’t enough I decided to cut my hair and say I will not be pursuing that MBA after graduation, I decided to be the one that brought a Ugandan home.
They had plans. My father was a well-connected man. I’m sure they had envisioned a grand wedding to some politician or businessman’s doctor/lawyer/architect son who at the very least was from the same tribe. So when I tell them I decided to cross the border and choose one from your side of Lake Victoria, they will be mad. Scratch that. They will literally burn with anger. And you will probably know why my people are known for their hot tempers.
What you will see are the disapproving looks. What you will not hear are the constant talks and phone calls from my aunties and uncles telling me how these inter-tribal/inter-nationality marriages never work. Another new day will bring another new list of excuses why I will suffer at the hands of my foreign in laws and they will never stop. Because in their world, love doesn’t conquer everything.
But in mine it does. It’s the reason we already got through all the bullshit we have already dealt with right from those days when my biggest fear was you finding out what I did or did not do that time I went partying with that one crew you cannot stand up to now when our worries are so much bigger.
Like how they could sabotage this by making me believe we are totally incompatible.
Our personalities are too strong. And that is an issue. Or it might be.
You are a leader, the ever in control Scorpio and I am the classic Leo that does not known how to share the spotlight. I am anti-social, insanely introverted and basically I just do not like talking to people unless they belong to the exclusive circle that is my pride. You on the other hand, know how to make friends with everyone everywhere you meet. The idea of socializing and small talk makes sense in your world but never has in mine.
Until I met you. And I guess if I was ever to pick somebody to forever bitch to about who will be implicated next in the controversial NYS saga I’d still pick you. Because with you, those conversations always had me yearning for more. Remember how these meaningless chats with you became my favorite thing to do when it turned into you becoming one of the few and avid readers of my blog?
I am insecure. That isn’t anything new. I have never wanted anyone close to me to read my work but even now you are the only one I trust enough to email my pieces even before I deem them fit for anyone else to read.
You are still also the only person in my immediate circles whose opinion can make me publish or trash a post so my dear I cannot let them take you out of the equation that is my life.
Without you I don’t have an editor. And reader. And life partner.
Besides, I am a very needy individual and I shamelessly admit that I need you around to remind me I am kind and smart and important. To laugh at those memes based on this because where else will I find a guy who reads everything so he’d get the reference I just made?
But more importantly I need you because you do not expect me to go back to a life without you. You know way too much. I can’t have you loitering around with that kind of ammo. It’s either you are living with me or you are not living at all. This isn’t a threat, my dearest. Well it is. A serious one actually. I know you share the same sentiments. Even your best friends do not know some of the information I have about you so we could say our secrets bond us either way. So why don’t we do this and just piss off a lot of people?
Kabiite wange, I know the first time you asked all I did was cry but I love you.
My answer is yes.


Written by Megan (0)

They also call me The Amateur Poet and my secret confession is that I believe I will win the Caine Prize for African Writing. One day :)

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