GRATITUDE: MY EXPERIENCE AS A WOMAN

Being a woman has always being a subject I thought easy to handle and such times when my wife, sister or mother would complain; I would be like ‘Oh! Please, spare me the pain.’ Though I know when it comes to child birth the act of becoming a woman is a bit difficult, but every other feminine activity for me can’t me compared to the masculine tussle I undertake on a daily basis, in affirmation to the assertion that ‘to be a man is not a day’s job.’

Well for me, trouble started last week Monday, when I tried preparing jollof rice to eat for dinner, I was jostling between parboiling the rice and preparing the ingredients to use, when I remembered that I forgot to buy onions when buying the groceries. I left the oil bleaching on the fire and quickly dashed to Mama Shedrach’s shop; a petty trader that sells groceries a stone throw from my house, I got the onions and quickly rush back, I didn’t wait to collect my change just to make it in time to continue my cooking, not suspecting the least that the oil had over bleached, I poured the blended tomatoes and every other ingredient all at same time, the outcome of my experiment was quite a mess, the tomatoes and everything I had mixed into the bleached oil turned coal black. I ended up buying jollof rice from a fast food joint even though I’m not a fast food type. The most annoying part was that, I ended up throwing away the parboiled rice. Tuesday was quite prepared for, I had closed earlier from the office and had wanted eating porridge yam with vegetable and dried fish for dinner since I had eaten lunch at the office. After buying the groceries, I went home and set about the task of cooking myself some yummy porridge absent my wife who has been out of town to supervise an ongoing project she was handling, she is an architect I must add and my kid sister that had been standing in for my wife and doing all the cooking and house chores, left for school two weeks ago, I had to make due of the food she prepared and stocked in the refrigerator until they were exhausted and now I had to go about cooking for myself whatever I have to eat, which brought about the unfolding episode in the first place. After the rigorous process of preparation and cooking, the porridge yam was ready and quite enticing to eat that I had to start eating from the pot while on the fire. It was time to get the pot down from the fire, when I noticed that the rag used for such purpose was no where to be found, I forgot I washed it the previous night and had not returned it to the kitchen, I thought about going to get it from the court yard where it was hanging on the clothing line but dismissed the thought after recalling how my few minutes dash for onions had marred an entire cooking process, I resolved to bringing the pot down with my bare hands, as I have seen my wife, mother and sister do on few occasions. I must have gotten the biggest brain wave of my life that I didn’t know when I drop the pot containing the porridge yam face down on the kitchen floor.

 “God! This isn’t happening” 

I felt like crying, but there was practically little or nothing I could do, I had to stay hungry that night and went to bed that way, I was awoken the next morning by the sharp pain of hunger and was already running late for work. I had to share Jamiu’s break fast at work in a bid to rid myself of the bitter hunger raging inside my stomach. Honestly, these days I appreciate good food the more, not that my wife doesn’t cook good food, but because of how hard I find it to prepare one. I took Ndubuisi’s advice and stocked the house with noodles, but grew rather tired of eating noodles every now and then, besides it makes me fart a lot. It didn’t take long before I assumed the position of an unexpected guest in the house of some of my friends; the married ones whose wives can cook very well and Jamiu was top on the list. You can’t imagine how I keep begging my wife to come back home, because I was fed up of the situation, my fingers are really looking haggard from the scrubbing and mopping I do around the house. For laundry at least the dry cleaner takes care of that, I got angry the other day after narrating my ordeal to my wife, and all she could do was laugh me to scorn over the phone, I had to end the call. 
How could she should be laughing at my calamity instead of sympathizing with her beloved husband?
Well for the toilet and dish washing I fare better in that area, but still terrible with the cooking and had long given up and resorted to my regular visits, however Jamiu’s wife Fatima has been kind enough to sometimes package some extra food so I can take home and microwave whenever I am hungry. Honestly speaking these past few weeks had made me realize what my wife goes through on a daily basis and why she sometimes complain the way she does and still manage to beat deadlines and set about her day’s activity quite early in the morning. I mean I give it up to women, in spite of all these, they still tend to the children, most times contribute to supporting the family financially, bear the anguish of labour, bear our burden as men and we still find ways of messing things up, being the men that we are. I thank my creator, that I’m not a woman and wouldn’t want to come back to this world as one.

All hell nearly broke loose when my wife called on Thursday afternoon to inform me that there her return has been delayed due to new developments with the project she is handling. I don’t think I can last another week in this manner, I am grateful to God that we have not started having kids that would have been a different ball game entirely, please if you are reading this, join me in prayers for the speedy return of my wife! This is a passionate plea.