I’ve said before that there’s no hospitality like Nigerian hospitality, and it’s true. My mom enjoys entertaining and my parents will happily welcome strangers into their home without advance notice and without caring about the state of their house—after all, the person isn’t a home inspector (besides, any critical comments would be eliminated by a taste of my mom’s excellent cooking!). I generally don’t share my parents’ enthusiasm for entertaining (especially if the guest is expecting Nigerian cooking!) and I dislike being surprised by last-minute guests because I like having time to prepare…and by “prepare”, I mean clean up. I don’t mind living in messy quarters but I don’t want to subject someone else to it. My dad has always challenged me on this: if I claim to be comfortable with my environment, why do I clean up when someone’s coming over? Why can’t I roll with it without feeling the need to apologize for the mess? Why do I worry about being judged? Why can I clean for someone else but I choose not to keep things neat for myself?
My dad is always asking those questions you Continue reading