BY MIKE MUTHAKA
I broke a glass tumbler last week.
At a family gathering.
Muratina was in plenty. I helped myself to two glasses. And then two more after that. By lunch time I was finding everything funny and my legs were wobbly.
That’s not the sort of thing you want in a host.
Being the host of a party means you enjoy very little of it. You never sit down to enjoy the thing. You’re always running about, making sure the guests are having a hell of a time. You want them to go back home with sagged shoulders, thinking: “That right there was the best party I’ve been to. No one will ever host a party as good as that ever again.”
So you have to keep an eye out for your nephew who might fall off the table. You have to make sure tummies are filled and the speakers are playing some agreeable tunes.
Someone needs a toothpick? It’s your job to fetch it. Another one needs a glass of water? Hell yeah. And don’t forget to bring mama nani a serviette.
Hosting can be a goddamn circus.
Anyway, in the afternoon my task was simple.
Carry this tray of tumblers to the seating area. These weren’t the usual tumblers, mind you. These were the special ones, for wageni.
You can see where this is going, right?
Midway, one of the tumblers starts dancing and sliding across the tray, slamming against the others and bouncing all over the place. Some of the guests were already on their feet trying to get to me. One was giggling in a corner. My muratina-marinated legs were trying really hard to sober up.
But then, much to everyone’s amusement, the dancing glass tipped over and spiraled from the tray. Shattering on the floor. Exploding shards. A few gasps and laughs.
I remember Ol’Man taking the tray from my hands and saying, “Maybe it’s time for a break.”
Haha.
I assume this incident must have brought a lot of shame to the Muthaka house. At the moment my folks haven’t said anything. I imagine they’re too disappointed.
Thankfully, I might the perfect apology:
The Fun Place.
**
There’s a new amusement park in Kitengela.
Actually, it’s more like a big yard. Ballast parking lot. Blue swings and yellow Ferris wheels. Squealing kids. Face-painting. And it’s aptly named The Fun Place.
The owner of The Fun Place is doing a hell of a job at advertising. His posters are plastered everywhere you turn. Tuktuks. Javs. Electric poles. If you see a yellow poster with multi-colored block letters, it’s probably announcing The Fun Place.
Weekends are a packed house. Family cars. Mothers in big sunglasses. Dads in shorts and sandals. Kids with balloons and toothy grins. Sunday afternoon sunshine. And, as evening sets in, there’s a magnificent view of the sunset.
The tagline of The Fun Place is ‘Transforming Families.’
So there you have it.
If your family needs a bit of transformation, just go to The Fun Place. If there’s discord between you and your folks, go to The Fun Place and iron things out over by the swings.
Maybe your mom found pot in your handbag. Maybe you came home at 6 a.m. from a night out at Milan. (Yikes). Maybe you got a bit drunk at a family gathering and broke a glass and said something naughty to your cousin.
Whatever, just go to The Fun Place.
Ride the Ferris wheel.
Bring your own toothpick.
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What naughty thing did you say to your cousin? Haha
Hehe. Slide into my DMs I tell you.