I love entertaining. I mean, I really love throwing a good party. My partner Haresh too really loves to have people over. Kavita loves them too especially if she can perform a song on her guitar.
Haresh: "Please stop talking. Kavita has to perform for us."
I have started to imagine that I host wine-infused intellectual discussions, memorable dinner parties and, unforgettable hospitality. Having lived in Monrovia for so long, I believe I'm a veteran resident who can bring together an eclectic mix of people from all walks: NGOs, UN, corporate sector and even the odd local. I especially try to seek out artists, academics and writers to come to my soirees. I was even lucky to meet a world traveller by chance at Mama Susu's and, threw a dinner party to show him off to my friends.
Even though I love spending all day in the kitchen and cooking up a storm (secretly feeling proud and self righteous that Asians are so hospitable compared to "Western" friends), I exhaust myself and forget to relax and, enjoy the party itself. I end up arguing with Haresh over putting on a new shirt.
Haresh loves hosting friends and, if in a good mood, even offers to cook one contributing dish like his famous butter chicken. He often frets that we don't have enough of a stocked bar or food and, I often have to tell him not to go overboard shopping for a party.
He gives detailed tours of our apartment and gives detailed history on every objet d'art and why and how we purchased that piece. He makes a point to take everyone to the store room and, recount the story of how much I resisted spending so much money on a fancy shelf for storing rice and milk cartons and, how hard he had to fight me.
We make everyone sign our guestbook and, then pore over it after everyone leaves.
"What a nice comment to make. Awww.'''
"This one just signed their boring name."
Sometimes, if the dinner party turns out boring, Haresh asks guests to leave because it's his bedtime.
At other times, he starts complaining to guests that we host dinner parties so many times but never get invited back. He goes into great length in describing how much cooking we do and, how hard it is to put together a good party.
But mostly, Haresh thinks our parties are a hit and, that people tell him our apartment is the most beautiful one they have ever seen. He glows with contentment.
I think despite all the hiccups, a few boring parties and, even if we don't get invited to the type of awesome parties we ourselves throw, Haresh and I love entertaining. We love having people over.
Sometimes we even offer our spare bedroom to friends who need a room. We are that kind.
I'm in Pakistan at the moment, visiting parents. There's a guest we are expecting but this one will stay for the whole month. I'm really dreading this guest.
It's not so much that I hate having someone over for a whole month but when this guest is over, we can't feel free or relaxed. This guest wants everyone to do what they want. There's no chance of non conformity or room for difference. We will all have to appear in a certain way. Change our daily routine. And pretend to respect or fear this guest's long lectures, silences and protocols. A whole month.
We will all have to dress the way this guest demands. What time we have to eat or not eat. Whether or not we can enjoy music or watch movies. Be quiet or be loud. We all have to suffer through their morality.
We have to suffocate under this pretence. But our elders want us to bear this guest. For a month. Why ? Who knows. Because we are born in this house.
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