rather contentious one when it
comes to African Christmas, a
matter of pride. When an African
dad buys his kid a present, the last
thing he’s going to do is give some
fat white man credit for it. African
Dad will tell you straight up, “No,
no, no. I bought you that.”
Outside of birthdays and
special occasions, all we had were
our Sunday afternoons. He would
cook for me. He’d ask me what I
wanted, and I’d always request the
exact same meal, a German dish
called Rösti, which is basically a
pancake made out of potatoes and
some sort of meat with a gravy. I’d