Bob Kisiki
Go to town, sir, and buy a gorgeous maroon or black or gold or peach or mauve (my arsenal of colours which only women are equipped to know and isolate one from the other has run out) flowing dress and match it with some equally gorgeous shoes.
Get a decent clutch bag (your wife will help you with the choices, if you will convince her that the purpose you purport to buy it for is genuine). Or you consult your big, working class daughters, if you have any. When you have those items, call your daughter who is at university and fix a dinner date with her.
Before I proceed with that thread, let me tell you a story.
When I graduated with a bachelor’s degree, I was excited. I invited all my friends from the different fields I belonged to (the school where I taught; the arts, being an actor; the extremely tiny circle of long-term, no-frills-attached friends and so on) and carted them all to my home village to attend my party.
It was going to be the party to end all parties; I had to have fun. Which I did, till it was lunch time, when I was told I was going to sit at the high table with my father, among other people…
Now I can’t say I didn’t know my father. I had been born and raised in his house; I knew his name and even if he spoke in a shouting throng of five thousand men, not counting women and children, I could pick out his voice, so distinct was it to me.
But I did not know him beyond that! We had never sat down to chat over non-administrative matters, where he questioned me over this or that issue, and, sweating in both public and confidential zones, I answered him.
I had never gone with him to visit a relative or friend or just sit on a shop veranda and drink fruit juice as I used to do with my siblings and even some of my teachers.
Nothing like that had ever happened between me and my father. Then on the day when I really wanted to celebrate life and make real merry, bam! I was ordered to sit by his side at the lunch table!
Do you know what that does to a child? Totally messes up their day! But you can work against that today. Now. Which is why this date I am proposing between you and your daughter. Because know what? The stage wings are teeming with guys (and, these days, even girls) itching to take her out.
They will go to the fanciest places in and even beyond town. They will feed her on the most exotic of culinary delights.
So why don’t you show her that it is okay, those things are nothing out of the ordinary, and nobody need use them as bait? Of course even after your date with her, someone else will take her out, but it will be just that — a dinner date; not a bargaining chip.
I will never forget the dashing look of my daughter when she arrived for our last lunch date. Dressed simply in denim pants and a cute little top, she had done some simple makeup and done her hair in some alluring way, and jumped onto a boda to come have lunch with me.
That did magic, and when I showed her that I was impressed with the overall picture, her glee was unmistakable. These things make a huge difference to both of you. Develop the habit of taking the girl out.
The writer is a parenting counsellor and a teacher
