The most sure-fire way for one to survive a family dinner (at least without permanent damage or scars that will forever haunt) is to simply not show up. Take it from me, a person who truly dislikes a significant majority of their extended bloodline. As a result of ‘respect culture’ and the need to please elders, this option is unfortunately obsolete for many of us. As the end of the year draws closer, there are going to be many more gatherings with family that a lot of us are expected to show up to. With luck, the food would be good, the soft drinks will flow and your fun cousin will allow you to sit in the driver’s seat of their new car and pretend to steer the wheels.
Family dinners are at their best are filled with laughter and flowing conversation and at their worst, they end in shouting matches on the table while the disgruntled party hastily makes a retreat to the delight of their opposition. We find the usual characters at these dinners, such as the uncle who gets so drunk at dinner that other family members have to restrain him during said arguments. Sometimes, this same uncle might have had so much to indulge that he even forgets his wife’s presence and begins to reminisce on his younger, unmarried years and an ex he used to have that was close to the family. There is the scholar uncle who pesters you incessantly about grades and whether or not you have thought about your major for university. Usually, there are at least two aunties commenting on the weight you have added since they last saw you. They want to know what you ate that has you ‘blown up’ like this. You have not travelled for college, so it is definitely not the oyinbo man’s burger. One usually assumes that this aunty in question is also big and uses the defence of already having children as a ‘justification’ for her body. You yourself have not had kids, so has no excuse for already having a belly.
What is lesser acknowledged is that these comments hit different when they are coming from the second, smaller aunty. This aunty was a size four before marriage and has now remained below a size 8 after having four children. Your mum points her out to you constantly, as a means of ‘encouragement’. She reminds you that men will look outside if they are not getting what they need at home. As usual, you balk at their comments, make hurried responses or excuses and promptly leave the area. You feel better if their comments are only heard by a few people, but on bad days the entire dinner party is there to witness your subsequent shame. At the dinner, there is a friendly older cousin, the one who encourages your parents to loosen your curfew and regales you with tales about all the mischievous things they did in high school. They remind you that compared to them, you are even better at your studies and more obedient. They never comment on your changing body and they always find ways of changing the conversation when aunties number one and two strike.
There are the little kids, screaming loudly as they play. One, in particular, has a nose filled with mucus, usually aunty number two’s child. She is too busy commenting on your growing body to look after her children, you see. Mucus child gets red in the face and cries even harder since his mama has not been away long. When she emerges, he grabs unto the lapels of her wrapper with one tiny fist and then lifts the other hand to his mouth in order to vigorously suck the thumb. After what seems like hours of noise, a few of the children will promptly fall asleep either on the floor in random couch pillows or upstairs in the bedrooms. This works for the parents as they can have a few minutes of peace of mind afterwards.
When you are eventually called to sit at the table for dinner; you make your way to the seat farthest from your aunties and if you are lucky, closer to your nice cousin. There are many bowls, filled with different rice’s, beef, plantain etc. Prayers are said in a droning voice, usually by the only uncle or older man who is not drunk at the time. Then everybody digs in. This is a time few voices are heard, as there is no space with which to speak and the only sound coming to life is the harmonious chewing of several hungry mouths.
To be quite frank, the most fool-proof way of surviving a family dinner is to make yourself as scarce as possible till it is eventually time to eat. Relatives may pull you in for conversation, to which you keep those as light and short as possible. If your family is hosting the dinner in question it is harder to escape as you are expected to assist with the cooking or setting the table. This is best achieved at dinners hosted by other family members. Luckily, Nigerians generally have an excellent hand at cooking skills. Imagine having to sit through all this for bad food??
