Surviving the African Parent

 

We've seen it countless times, however, that doesn't make it any less amazing.  An African mother's relationship with oil. The oil seems almost frightened when it comes to them, or maybe they just have super tough skin. Be it fish or chicken, stew or plantain, they fearlessly stick their hand in and fry. They laugh in the face of oil and burns- like superheroes when facing the boss villain. They just don't get hurt- or don't feel it at least (frying with no concern whatsoever) And don't get me started on what the grandmothers are like. They always say "Come on will you put your hand in there! Why are you running away? What are you afraid of?" THE OILLLLL I'M SCARED THE OIL WILL SPLASH ON ME AND I'LL BECOME HORRIDLY DEFORMED! THANKS, BUT NOOO THANKS! me? I like my skin oil free, thank you for asking. I feel like oil is one of those things people ought to handle with a hazmat suit- covered from top to bottom. I could run out of the kitchen right ...

 

  If you are not one, you're lucky. If you are one, you'll relate to this even better. You are assigned the most work and errands. You get shouted at when you are not to blame. They always find a way to shout at you while they are shouting at your siblings. You take the blame for your siblings. Sometimes you have to do their share of the work in addition to yours. You babysit all the time. You are held responsible when something goes wrong in the house- sometimes when you weren't even there. You get shouted at a lot. You are the family experimental material. You have to set a good example. You are constantly reminded that everyone is looking to you. Doing badly in school is not an option. Doing badly anywhere is not an option. Basically, you have to be perfect-  and since that isn't possible because no one is perfect,  you get shouted at a lot. So, who wants to be the first born?

 

  You have to tell your parent something super important, ask them a time sensitive question or you were in the middle of talking to them. Suddenly... the phone rings. You wonder who it is until you hear the greeting and laughter that signals the start of the conversation that will make your parent unavailable for the next hour or two. Maybe you were trying to finish organizing something, round up a conversation or worse... you were preparing to go somewhere and THAT phone call messed up all your plans. It's never ending, always inconvenient, super loud and gets on your every nerve. You know what I'm talking about and I know what I'm talking about. Who does that phone call come from in your house?

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