I can bet my right arm. No slay queen, original or faked will willingly trek to their ragtag villages for Christmas. And you’re asking why? Isn’t it obvious?
- Makeup: Think about it. Which slay queen will sink their made over nails into the ground to harvest groundnuts after Boxing Day? Some churches will deny entry to anyone who looks even remotely close to Sheebah (she is the example village parents give for a spoilt child). Basically, any appearance that looks TV-ish is intolerable. A normal girl should be able to peel matooke, slaughter chicken… blah blah and all our slay queens know is eating them when rich men are paying.
- No internet: First of all, there’s no mo scratch airtime. This means that one has to walk over 5 kilometres to get credit for data. Then there is no network and they have to climb up the hill to open Snapchat. Even worse, how will they even walk bare feet to post those SnapChat filters with dog ears?
- No camera: Everyone in the in the village hates pictures, if she plants her front camera into the old man’s face and it shows him with cat whiskers, he might summon the clan saying her phone is sponsored by the devil or the famous Illuminati. She is only left with taking ugly pictures of her grazing but with the local background, she can’t post it. Urrgg!
- Church: As a rule, children from Kampala must go to church. The slay queen who last stepped in the Lord’s House to confess removing Timothy’s pregnancy will not want to repeat that haunting experience. Even God would be angry. Who are you who only shows up in his presence when you’re confessing sins as if the good deeds are impossible.
- No expensive alcohol or money: In Kampala, she is always posting photos of Johnnie Walker Double Black on her Instagram. How will she arrive with Eagle Lager – Darker this time? Plus, the best blesser in the village is buying Nile Special and a jug of . Life is hard!
Anyway, Merry Christmas slay queens.