Some men are unlucky. All their wives brought to the ‘table’ are banging bodies and colourful sex styles. Husbands who are treated like beasts of burden.
These are men who carry marriages on their heads like our grandmothers carried heavy pots of water from the village stream, one hand holding the load, the other hand swatting flies, necks bent, sweat pouring down their backs.
When you see these guys outside, they are smiling, wearing clean kaftans, spraying money at parties. They are suffering, smiling, and muttering: “God is in control.” God may indeed be in control, but Uncle Bode is burdened, tired from picking all the bills.
Look around you, too many tired brothers who are actually not married to wives. They are married to dependents with permanent subscription to enjoyment.
Now before angry women gather firewood to roast me alive, let me quickly balance this matter. Yes, there are many hardworking, supportive wives holding families together like iron pillars. Some women are feeding homes, paying school fees, nursing sick husbands, running businesses, and still doing family shopping and cooking by themselves. I salute them. But today is not their day.
Today is for those women who think marriage means becoming Managing Directors of Sleeping and Stretching after the wedding ceremony. Women whose only contribution to family development is changing hairstyles every other week, keeping spa appointments and providing great sex. All of that is cool and keeps the man interested but will kill the man in steady installments.
There are wives who spend their days in pleasure, soft wives who can finish the entire season of a television series in one sitting but cannot or will not do anything to support the home. Such wives exist and the men married to them are quietly dying.
The soft wife leaves her husband to pay the children’s school fees in full and still refuses to buy sports wear. In fact, something as little as the End-of-the-year-party fee must still be paid by the man.
Babe, you know I need to make my hair and buy a new dress for Junior’s school party.
Babe, don’t forget to send me data and ‘buy light’.
Darling, the two cars are due for service.
Babe, I need to change the pots , their handles are falling off.
The children’s snacks have finished.
My mum is ill, I need to send money to her.
My skin care products are finished.
I need to pay for gym.
I need a new bone-straight wig. All the ones I have are too long and wavy.
The beast of burden has to pay for everything. His wife is a billing machine.
When Tunde married Amaka, his friends envied him. Fine girl. Light skin. Sweet voice. Tiny waist. Everywhere she entered, heads turned like standing fans.
Tunde was proud. “God has blessed me,” he would say. For where? The gods were laughing.
