Kenyan families are proof that God loves comedy. All it takes is two uncles in the same room, and you’ve got a live vitimbi special — no subscription required.

First up: The drunk uncle.He never arrives — he enters, late of course, smelling like Pilsner and untold wisdom. He hugs you too tight, laughs like you just paid him, and randomly shouts, “Hii familia imebarikiwa!” like it’s breaking news.

Every story he tells starts with “Back in my day…” and somehow features a boda boda accident, a beautiful lady from Murang’a, and a fight he “almost” won.

But you love him. You have to. He’s free entertainment. He’ll dance offbeat, misquote scripture, proudly announce he’s proud of everyone, then borrows Ksh 200 for “fare.”

Then there’s The HR uncle.This one treats family gatherings like LinkedIn boot camps. He shakes your hand like an interviewer, smiles like an appraisal, and before you’ve even swallowed your first chapati he’s asking, “So, what are you doing nowadays?”

Say “I’m still figuring things out,” and watch disappointment spread across his face like bad Wi-Fi signals.

Five minutes later, he’s asking for your CV — not to help you, but because asking for CVs is his love language. He’ll promise to “forward it,” and two Christmases later he’s still asking if you updated it.

Put the two in one room, and behold:

Drunk uncle: “Huyu boy ni wangu, ako na akili sana, mletee bia!”HR uncle: “We need to discuss career direction. What’s your five-year plan?”You: Sipping soda, planning an escape route.

Meanwhile, in the background, aunties exchange knowing glances over the sufuria lids, cousins huddle and giggle as if watching a live play, and a tired grandparent sighs loudly, praying someone changes the topic before the HR uncle starts a mini seminar.

Someone’s always whispering, someone’s always laughing, and someone — usually the “saved aunty” — is quietly trying to mediate before chaos become headlines.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is Kenyan family sociology: love, chaos, alcohol, unsolicited advice, pressure, and laughter — all mixed together like fruit punch.