Memories

Who Was Welcome?

I guess everybody was welcome to our house. I now know it was more like a
communal house. There were cars driving in or out all the time. Sometimes it felt
like a busy train station, the sounds, people, movement and the aroma or whiffs of
spicy food.

Friends visited without notice, that was acceptable then, because there was always

someone home to receive them. Relatives, old and young stopped by regularly. They

were all welcome and gave the house a buzz. Sometimes they even overstayed their

welcome and became part of our household.

This must give you a clue the sort of parents I had. They were very hospitable. Daddy was

the sort of person that could have stood outside to call everyone in. He accepted any and

everybody. Guests frequently joined him at our eight seater dining table which sometimes

turned into a twelve seater with chairs oozing off the fringes.

I am sure you are wondering how they all had enough to eat. My mother’s sweltering

kitchen was like a restaurant’s, where cooking happened all day long. We had cooks,

young ladies, sometimes they were the hardy relatives who willingly wanted to learn

from Mama, they learned and some stayed. This allowed Mama to go out to work and

have a break from managing this ant hill, with people teeming in and out like ants.

What I learned from this is to accept all and acknowledge people, no matter where they

come from. Sometimes though I got a little annoyed as I had to share, the space, food,
my parents and my time.