As a child we all used to think the moon was following us as we looked out the car window on the drive back home from one of mummy’s ‘boring wedding receptions‘ that she got invited to and forced us to tag along because there was no one to watch us at home. Not only did she force us to go to yet another boring wedding, we had to put on that one white dress that was too long to run in. When I was a kid whenever I went to any sort of party or function one thing that was certain was I would always spill my soda on myself and my mum would then be faced with the consequence of washing the hard stain out of my white dress the next day. With my clumsy ways I was always forced to sit down at wedding receptions such as I do not spill anything on my dress. I hated wedding receptions; you were forced to listen to all the boring grown up conversations going on around the table and watch your drunk uncle act inappropriate and kissing on his wife (which any African knew was such a big deal to do in public and that I found very gross at that age) then the speeches; they seem to go on for a life time with the MC making dry ass jokes that all the grown ups were able to cord while I was left trying to crack the cryptic message behind it all. Thankfully I had my sisters with me in this hell; whenever one of us went to the bathroom my mum would let us all go and to be honest this was the most exciting part of the whole wedding. The walk to the toilet was so adventurous; we would explore all the ends of the venue before actually going to the toilet. My sisters and I were like flies on a wall as all the grown ups paid us no mind; we saw all the drunken fools in the hall ways and the excited beaming bridesmaids fix their makeup in the toilets. I loved the walk to the toilet; this walk usually lasted 30 minutes as we knew once we got back to the tables we were not to move until after we had eaten. The worst part of the reception for me was when we had to sit down and struggle through a plate of food. My reason being after eating, the opening of the dance floor followed; which meant we were then allowed to run around as much as we wanted. However my mother’s conditions were simple, “finish the food, then you can go off and play“. This might have been a very simple thing to anyone but to a group of 10 to 6 year old’s this was a battle. My sisters and I then had to help ourselves out; we would help each other out in any way possible; if one was done they would help the other with theirs, sometimes we would put the food in the napkins and drop it under the tables, any means possible to get rid of the food. It was such a “bands of brothers” mission really; to get rid of all the food on our plates. Once all the food was cleared off our plates and the dance floor was opened, my sisters and I would then get our time to have fun and make new friends with other kids on other tables. It was fun. This never lasted long though; at 8/9 o’clock it was time for the after party to begin and my mother always said, “after parties are not for kids” as if I was one; I mean I was turning nine that year. So then my mother would tell my sisters and I to go home with my grandparents while she stayed for the “after party” with her sisters. So there I am in the car with my sleeping sisters and grandparents, driving us home with the moon following right behind us. It always gave me some sort of comfort knowing the moon was coming home with us.