With little time before the rally, Tsitsi had to apply her mind on how to best improvise the party regalia so that it was figure-hugging, flattering, and functional. She stood the Mother in front of the home salon mirror in a red-and-yellow two-piece dress suit and headwrap—printed, of course, with the Father’s face—and admired her work. Tsitsi would be the first to admit, the style was loud, gaudy, vulgar even, but it would be effective. It would color-coordinate with the T-shirts, zambias, and dhukhus that the Mother demanded the Youth League find in time to be distributed alongside the bags of maize and fertilizer at the afternoon’s rally.
Source : You Can’t Eat Beauty
