Stifling a yawn, I got up from the bed and peeked at the time. It was nearly 5.30am, time for me to get up anyway. Sighing, I got up and shuffled to the bathroom to relieve myself before opening the door to go out of the bedroom to the kitchen. I was careful not to wake my husband of 8 years by not putting on the light. He usually woke by 6.20am and from then conducted morning devotions. So I had an hour and fifteen minutes to make sure breakfast was ready and that the kids got up and got ready for school. It didn’t matter if I was bone-tired or sick, the routine never changed. Opening the kitchen door, I sighed as I switched on the rechargeable lamp that I usually left on a close counter for sudden outages. The electricity went out just before I got to the kitchen door and so my task just got harder since I would have to do everything in semi-darkness. The freezer has been bad for a while now which meant I had to warm last night’s stew and white rice and the soup I cooked two days back as well. Picking a broom, I swept the kitchen floor. The garbage truck was not going to come till the next day and my trash was already filled. Putting the soup on the cooker, I quickly washed our dirty plates that were stacked in the sink. I needed help around the house but my husband wouldn’t hear of it. His argument was that having help – paid for or live-in – made a woman lazy and the children insolent; wonder where in the world he got that from not that he lent a helping hand to relieve me a bit. The soup was beginning to boil slightly so I opened the pot, peered into it and turned it. We would have to manage the soup later this evening especially now the meat in it had finished. Everything was so expensive these days. “Na wa for this country self. A single woman cannot purchase food items with N5,000; how much more a married woman with children?” I grumbled out loud “Why are you talking to yourself in the dark?” My husband asked startling me. I didn’t expect him up yet. “Good morning, is it time for devotion?” “No, Lily is crying.” Was it not obvious that I was busy? “Did you hear what I said?” “Carry her if she is crying now.” I replied barely keeping my anger in check. “How do you want me to do that? I am preparing for devotion.” “And I am busy in the kitchen except you want to take over from me while I go and pick her up.” “What is that supposed to mean? Is it not too early for insults?” Careful to keep my voice neutral, I replied “How have I insulted you? I am warming the soup and washing the plates…” “So it would kill you to drop the plates and put off the fire?” Slowly, I dropped the plates, rinsed my hands; put off the fire and walked out slightly brushing him. Picking up the crying Lily, I shook her brothers awake. My husband didn’t want Lily sleeping in our bedroom. “Ssh…mummy is here. Lily…my…lily…the most beautiful girl…” I sang-talk to her as her brothers sluggishly got up. “Good morning mummy,” Jeremiah, my first son greeted me. “Morning dear, both you and Emmanuel should lay your beds while I get your sister quiet.” “Good morning mummy,” Emmanuel piped out. “Morning Emmanuel, please, no quarrels with your elder brother this morning. Lay the bed and then both of you should get into the bathroom; let me get back to the kitchen. Lily say hello to your brothers.” The boys came and tickled Lily and got her to smile. “Mummy leave her with us,” Jeremiah pleaded while extending his hands towards Lily. Lily, already quiet though refused the proffered hands preferring to cling to my hip. Going back to the kitchen, I tried completing my task with one hand. The plates would be dealt with maybe after I got back from work. The kitchen was still dark I didn’t want to drop Lily so she wouldn’t bump into anything and yet I was behind schedule already, the morning was already turning out to be frustrating than it was. And then it happened, the fire sputtered out. I was out of gas at 6.00 in the morning and I didn’t have a back-up stove. Well, the stew wouldn’t get spoilt anyways. Thank God I had warmed the soup earlier; the rice was okay a bit. We would have to take the rice cold perhaps with cold tea too. CONTINUE READING...naijastories/2013/09/fused-thoughts-tales-from-two-women-i/
Posted on: Fri, 20 Sep 2013 21:27:11 +0000
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