Young Woman Found Out Old Man Has A Big Cock Why Grandfather Iliaja, Hates Christmas

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Why Grandfather Iliaja, Hates Christmas

Iliaja is happy when he hears the word Christmas being mentioned. He looks like someone who has caught ice without realizing it.

Grandpa Iliaja has never been happy or excited about Christmas day since he was invited to his daughter-in-law’s house many years ago. He went there dressed in his usual attire: a dyed shirt, a pair of short trousers that made him look like a petite, and a half-torn hat that had a green cloth on it.

When they got there, the whole family was busy eating a variety of food that Iliaja thought was a mixture of mushrooms, millet and meat. Everyone was smartly dressed. This reminded Iliaja of the white people and their children when they lived in the line that they called the reception of the governor.

He stood next to the busy family. He leaned on his long staff like a shepherd tending his sheep. The children laughed at him and someone said to the mouth of the rice, “Look, Grandpa doesn’t have any… “be quiet” as he tells his children.

“You can’t talk with food in your mouth, Lily,” her father said after calling Iliaja to a bench away from the main table. Iliaja sat down, crossed his legs and put his hands in his pockets as usual said, “Eiye leiye leiye leiye,” which was a sign of tiredness mixed with deep thought.

He took a drag on his cigarette and sneezed. This process causes the brown noses to come out of the nose like a two-way drainage during the rainy season.

However, he took a few minutes to look for a black scarf whose color was between black and purple. It was somehow inside his big bag.

He was moving his hand from his right pocket to his left and looking up at the ceiling in the hallway as if trying to guess the cost of the dining room. All this time the pus was long.

The abusive family in front of him was looking at him with extreme disgust. Intuitively he saw that something about him was the cause of confusion in the family because no one was talking.

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He did not greet them because he believed that it is not good to talk to people who are eating. He had to wait until he finished eating. He was busy “looking” at the large and well-furnished dining room while tapping his left toe on his knee and wiping his nose with his right hand.

“Give the old man some food,” the servant was instructed by the head of the family, a tall brown man with a large bald head. He was a primary school principal. The servant brought a small round table to Iliaja. On the table was a plate full of rice and lentils. Salt in a bottle similar to that of Iliaja’s tobacco, spoons, forks, and knives, were also placed without contamination in their proper places.

Iliaja’s eyes were looking around the servant up and down the room as his mind was far away from years and years ago when he was roasting beef and deer in the bush. So they were really men.

“You can continue. We have already prayed,” said his daughter who was surprised by Iliaja wearing a body hugging blue suit with long jeans. This made it easy for Iliaja to estimate exactly how her daughter grew up. She was a wasp woman who drowned in the high life of the city. He was Iliaja’s youngest child and since his marriage he had never seen his father on land.

Iliaja looked at the food in front of him and said, “What do you call this?” “That’s grandpa,” John the ugly little boy replied after killing the chicken leg. He thought his grandfather was pointing a knife. Iliaja was silent for a while and then he picked up three small pieces of rice and put them far away from his nose and plucked them with great anxiety.

The whole family stopped eating and looked at him. Her daughter who couldn’t stop laughing out loud came out of the house to cough up something that got into her stomach. “Oee! Oee! Oee! That old man is not a smoke,” said a child who did not hesitate to stay silent when his father looked at him with threatening eyes. “I’m sorry, my brother-in-law,” Iliaja said after smelling all the food that was laid out for him. “I don’t eat this,” he added as he pushed the food away with all his might.

All the soup was poured inside and the knife, fork and spoon all fell to the carpet. Iliaja tried unsuccessfully to protect the situation. Even the glass broke and fell to the ground and together with the others made a big pile on the ground.

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“If there is ugali, I will eat it, but if there is none, then it is fine with me. I have fulfilled my promise,” Iliaja said sadly while the servant who was still laughing continued to clean up the mess.

However, there was no ugali, mushroom, black-nightshade, and millet paste

it was Iliaja’s favorite food. He ruined the Christmas fast for nothing. Every time Christmas is mentioned, Iliaja vividly remembers her embarrassment at her daughter-in-law’s house.

It was the late afternoon of the perfect Christmas season in Kapsuser, Kenya. Iliaja, a vain but funny old man came out of his old round house surrounded by acacia bushes.

He had been sitting there on a slightly elevated black log for hours and hours. One would easily think that he was reminiscing about his good old days when he was still a teenager.

As he sat there, he moved his shaky unsteady hand from one overstuffed coat pocket to another – the same but with different contents. His probing hand moved deeper into the explosive bag that contained its contents; rusty razors, small empty bottles of almost every color of the rainbow, small sticks, curled up sheets of paper that are fading, and a whole host of things that one might call trash.

His loosely contorted face gave him a sinister look like a rock of ages. He was busy looking for that snuff with pride and lightheartedness that it had already been given to you by someone well-known in the area as a medicinal and pain reliever. Since then, the exact day no one knows, he has been sniffing.

When he got really upset, and he often found himself there, he would smoke the tobacco to calm himself down and calm down. Tobacco, he could tell you with a bright, hanging smile, worked traditionally.

Iliaja, frowned in disgust as he picked up the paper or bottle he didn’t want. He looked like a frustrated person who has just read a letter of complaint from the head of a company he loves.

He was a strong cock of a man who was steady and tough. He was known as one of the best warriors of his time. He was bald-headed, like a famous leg-fighter. The look of the children in his brown and intelligent eyes that he was always searching for, reminded one of the first Europeans who moved to the country.

On his pierced ears hung round pieces of ornate brass which, when he shook his head, dangled cheerfully as if hugging the temples of the wearer. And sure enough they did.

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“Hey! Chebet, look at my mushroom,” said a child’s voice from the other side of the western thorn that bordered Iliaja and the neighbors.

“Let’s take it to grandma and grandpa,” said the voice of a child. This time it was clear about the girl.

Iliaja and his wife were waiting for their grandchildren since dawn. These children go to boarding school there and often visit their grandparents during the holidays.

His wife was picking millet outside when Kiprop and Chebet arrived as the shepherds read from the Bible. Between the children was a large brown basket whose ropes each held tightly in their hands. The contents of the baskets were covered with a transparent white cloth, although the head of a locust was visible on one side.

Their grandmother removed the burden from them and before they could say anything, she took the basket and brought it into the hut and placed it safely next to the water jar. When he left the house, he crossed his arms as usual and greeted the two children nodding inside.

Kiprop gave him a big-headed mushroom. When their grandfather caught it, he said, “This is a good promise my grandchildren – a fresh white mushroom. Where was it?” he looked at the mushrooms and cleaned the dirt. “I got it from my grandfather down the road,” said Kiprop, who laughed when he saw his grandfather nodding happily.

“Let’s go inside my children, it’s cold outside,” the old woman said as she let them in. “Why didn’t you bring Kiptesot with you?—he must have been tall these days,” he added. Kiptesot was Kiprop’s brother whose bow legs made him look like Iliaja when he was younger.

“He’s still short… oh that one. He hit mom with a stone yesterday and wasn’t allowed to accompany us,” said Chebet, a seven-year-old girl with curly black hair, happy eyes and a shapely body. She wore a short blue skirt that showed off her toned brown thighs.

As soon as he entered the small house, Chebet dared to say, “Tell us a story, grandpa.” Some of our grandparents used to tell us sweets at night. Chebet had shown great interest in stories since he could speak.

He and his brothers and sisters often went to their grandmother’s house. He was a widower and a fan of storytelling. However, he had recently grown tired of the silence. When a

children went to his court, he threatened to beat them. He often complained that the children were making too much noise. The children had sneaked to his house late.

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There was no child in Iliaja’s court. It was as calm as a pool of water all day. His wife had given birth to seven children, four daughters and three sons, but unfortunately they were all boys

he was dead. Two of them died in battle and one contracted an unknown disease. The only children who came to Iliaja’s house were her daughters and brothers.

“Sit down, my grandchildren,” said Iliaja, who sat comfortably beside the fire. “How is everyone at home?” he asked. Twelve-year-old Kiprop pioneered the ability to speak while standing on three rotating legs.

“It’s fine at home, grandma. Mother promised us that we will return home on Sunday.” When no one spoke, he added: “Our father is coming home on Monday from the city. He will bring us shoes and clothes for Christmas.” Iliaja was very angry when he heard the word Christmas mentioned.

Chebet smiled widely as he imagined himself wearing shiny shoes like those of the white girl he had seen in town last week. However, he immediately closed his mouth as cold air filled the gap where he had been cut twice that day.

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