FATHER’S SHAME

Your mother was never a good wife to me!”
“Shhh! Stop, father, don’t say such things…”
“Why not? Uh? Tell me why a man cannot say if he
was cursed with a wife?”
“Because mother will hear you and she will be
angry.”
“What are you talking about?”
At this point there is some movement in the
kitchen.
That will be mother, I tell myself.
I know because she usually gets back at this time.
I try to listen closely. The sufurias are making that
clanking noise again. That will be mother putting
dinner on the fire.
I know it’s fried fish as usual. Every day we eat the
fish that remains from her sales at the market,
except on the days when she has sold all the fish—
a good day she calls it.
Then, if she doesn’t buy something for the house
like Panga soap, or salt or cooking fat, she gets a
quarter kilo of meat. I pray for such days. But I can
tell today that it is fish. The aroma that rises from
the kitchen need not tell me so.
I sit there next to father as he smokes his usual
Sportsman. Not Rocket, not Super Match; he
instructs me with a firm voice each time he asks
that I go to the shop to buy his cigarettes.
Like a mad man I run along the dusty path to the
shop, keen not to provoke father’s anger for he is
not a very patient man.
The smoke is not good for me at my age, mother
says, but father insists that I sit next to him every
time, even when he is smoking.
So I always sit, and cough quietly.
Where else would I sit anyway? Of course not with
mother in the kitchen. That’s no place for boys,
father has taught me. Doing so would amount to a
thrashing and father doesn’t joke with his
thrashing. He handles it proper, landing every stroke
squarely on my buttocks, so I know, the kitchen is
not my place. Here, next to father’s cracked sole, I
must sit.
Every day he goes on about how mother is not a
good woman. But he keeps on saying was. I wonder
why Mother doesn’t seem to mind this. She never
speaks back to father.
She used to and father would beat the living light
out of her, but then one day she stopped, and then
her voice just became more of a whisper. Frail and
distant, only heard in the dark when even the
chiming of the clock sounds like the machines down
at the sugar factory. I hate it because I have to
strain to get what she is saying.
She doesn’t speak much nowadays anyways. Only
at night when she comes to ask me if I have taken
my medicine and if I have said my prayers. She
says one must say their prayers for God to bless
them. I say my prayers without fail. She kisses me
goodnight on the forehead. It’s usually cold.
Mother always gets in through the back of the
house. I still wonder why. Maybe father told her not
to use the front door anymore. I think that’s why
she only speaks to me and not father too.
I only respond when father is not around to see her
talk to me. Father has told me not to talk about
mother.
Aunt Merab who stays with us also tells me not to
talk about her. I don’t understand why. What
mother did to upset them that much? But I still talk
to mother when they are not looking and she tells
me everything will be fine.
Aunt Merab is mother’s younger sister. She started
staying with us when I was still a little boy – barely
two. I don’t like her very much, but she helps
mother with the chores. I think father likes her, Aunt
Merab.
Nowadays, mother cooks and Aunt Merab serves
the food to father and me. Mother doesn’t eat and
she just sits there watching us gobble down the
lumps of ugali.
I don’t like it that way, but father and Aunt Merab
insist that I shouldn’t speak to mother who just sits
there and look on.
She must be hungry, I say to myself. I’ll sneak
some food to her when they are not looking.
But even when I do, mother doesn’t eat and so I
end up being scolded by Aunt Merab who says I’ll
invite big rats into the house.
***
I sit there now, next to father, stroking my beard,
and father goes on and on about how mother was
never a good wife.
He hasn’t stopped. He never will.
Aunt Merab, who is now father’s wife is inside
making tea. I will not drink it. Father is still
smoking; I bought him the cigarettes from the
Supermarket in town.
His hair is greying and he has lost so much weight
that his skin clings tautly to his bones. He coughs a
lot now too.
The folding chair is old and creaks every so often. I
look at the sky through the window. It is dull and
grey. I think it’s going to rain soon.
I was to leave an hour ago but father insists I have
to wait for the tea. I told him no, but even in his
frailty he still has a firm voice and the child in me is
still scared of it. Still trembled at the sound of it.
The same voice that told me no so many times
when I asked if I’ll be going to school.
My son, Junior, is outside playing with other kids
from the village. My wife, Pauline, and I need to get
him a sibling soon.
I should have had a sibling too. I hope I never
complain about his mother as my father does about
mine all the time.
He goes on with his grumbling and his muted words
cut deep like a sharp blade. He speaks of mother
with so much hatred that I ask myself if he ever
loved her a single day.
But I know he did. Once, perhaps, I think. I’ve seen
photos of them as young adults. There was
happiness and peace in it.
Aunt Merab walks in with the tea in a kettle and
rusty mugs. I can’t drink tea from a woman who
replaced my mother.
I get up to leave. Father tells me to sit down.
But I won’t.
I am not a child anymore. Not that child anymore.
I wish I could tell him I loathe him with every fibre
of my being.
He says he will tell the whole village how bad
mother was. I smile.
I know it’s all bluff and mother in her grave knows
it too.
She’s been dead twenty five years now and father
has never told anyone of how he was less a man
and mother had to lie with his younger brother to
get me.
He never will. He has to cloth his shame this man.
***

Prince patrick onyeka is a  nigerain writer and engineering Student
at caritas University Enugu state. Writing is his passion
and he believes through writing he can explore the
world in depth.

The Apex of Cruelty from most Ladies as seen in this Modern Day Slavery example.

Hi real peeps.

Warning: This article loaded with bitter truths and facts!!!!What a man can do a woman can do better. Has been extend to the act of wickedness. I have honestly noticed from experience that when women decide to be wicked, it’s something else.. Close to manslaughter, especially to their fellow ladies and you all can testify to that.

I don’t understand why. I went to by a product from a shop and a nice marketer if the company approached me to see if I could be serviced by her so she get some bonuses on the sold product.

Then all of a sudden a staff (female) of the same company stood up from her sit shouted, insulted, and embarrassed her in front of many waiting customers.

OMG I was so furious I already was speaking when I felt a warm grasp on my had pulling me back and a voice begging “please sir, don’t worry, please sir, calm down, it’s a woman thing” I kept my cool, I pondered over that highlighted phrase over and over.

I did my purchase and left. Just went out with my mum to drop her at the saloon,I saw  a  woman who brought her maid to a nail shop.

Lemme Give you stories  about what i saw.
A lady came to fix her nails in a jeep with her maid (13 years of age I guess). Who had a hand fan she used to fan this “Queen Bee” for over 2 hours in the shop in front of other customers.

In 2013, a similar situation occurred, when a girl resumed a private University with her maid. Who swept, washed and arranged her detailed room surprise a lot of onlookers (fellow girls).

Another again is how female student give out undies for women to wash especially in Enugu state……women who shout early in the morning….any job……

Review/Analysis/Questions
A closer look at the woman and  the maid the following.
1. The satisfaction and pose on the madam.
2. The dejection and tattered ness of the maid.
3. The tired from the fanning. Notice she switched hands.

Questions.1. A woman with  such class should be fixing her nails in a cheap  AC shops.

2. This shop would at least have a fan in it. Especially a nail shop, in order to quickly dry the glues and all that.
3. Notice the undiluted callousness, she made the maid stand throughout.
4. After they keep fighting for the girl child/women’s rights.

With all this from fellow WOMEN?BAFFLING QUESTION–
Why did she bring the maid to the shop?

Why do I feel the maid might have been fanning her from the car/all the way from home?

What was she trying to prove by bringing her to a shop with customers(women)?

Why wouldn’t she wear something lighter if hot?–

How does she want the maid to feel?–

What makes you thing this maid won’t retaliate sooner or later to her, her husband or children? (after dem go say house girl wicked)

WHY IS THERE SO MUCH HATE, WICKEDNESS, CALLOUSNESS WHEN IT INVOLVES FELLOW LADIES??

Say No to Slavery.
Say No to Modern Slavery.
Say No to Callousness.

Please let’s discuss this. Share With friends on:

Excuse me, can I have your number?

No, this is not a guy asking for a girl’s number. It’s the girl asking for a guy’s number.  This occur in Mr Biggs agbor-obi  Delta State. During independence  period in October this year. I went with my younger one to have fun….i was about getting to where i can get the food and make
payment  suddenly i saw a girl approaching me…i was thinking may be she knew me somewhere

She came closer and me…are you single….i was surprise…i could not answer…….the rest of the story is private…..lol…( una won make i tell una every thing)

Yeah…yea…. I see ladies doing taking oath over their heads saying God forbid. Me,ask a guy for his number?

From the days of Adam, a man goes after a woman not the other way around.Ehn Ehn… remain there until you are 50 with grey hair down there,

We shall readdress this issue at that time and you can tell me if you still feel the same way.

I just had a discussion at lunch with my friends about a girl toasting a guy. I love seeing people come together in a healthy relationship and honestly, I don’t even care anymore how it happens. It is the end result of an issue that matters, not the beginning.

When am in an event, I make it a point of duty to single out the ladies, and tell them to shine their eyes for they are not there to eat jollof rice only. Stop waiting for the boys to initiate a conversation, because by the time he figures which girl is the prettiest or most attractive in the room the party will be over.

Can I please use this medium to beg all those people who handle lightening at events… your lights are getting darker and darker and making it impossible for the men   to see the girls and for women to see boys . Please there is enough confusion already with the wigs, makeup, false butt etc., don’t compound their problems abeg.

Let there be correct light so they can see the girls or men. This issue of who should ask who out is always going to be a bone of contention.

I personally have grown out of that mindset and I really don’t see anything wrong with it.  I believe minimization is key. Am a boy ….but again girls should try and ask guys out…..Don’t go overboard with the whole thing.

Just say something so he knows how you feel and let him take it from there if he wants to.

Most would argue that during a future dispute the man would throw it in your face “After all I didn’t ask you out, you asked me out”. While this could very well be true, I can also say that if such a guy does the  toasting he could still say to you “get out here, there are plenty girls out there waiting for me”.

This whole thing just depends on the quality of man you try it with. My friend Angela now pipes up saying, “ah I’m for it o, I asked Philip out and it’s working our perfectly for us.”

So the story is this right, Philip is a proper guy. I mean the kind that would be standing there and attempt to open a door for any sweet lady

he has this list of expectations that I can’t even begin to deal with he has choice of girls  and things. Philip  was my departmental in school then…..we are just close friends…..nothing much…….(i know reader will be thinking nonsense)

During our days in the university….We went out to a lodge one day to celebrate a friend’s birthday, the friend’s fiancé came with his own crew of friends and  Angela was one of them.

I won’t lie though; Angela was all over  beautiful well groomed and very quiet. While the other girls  were turning’ up Angela was quiet most of the evening, smiling and laughing when appropriate.

Philip and I spotted her,  immediately exchanged looks, and a nod (the nod means get on your phone NOW).

We start texting about Angela and how reserved he was but oh so good-looking etc.

I ask Philip to go talk to her since I don’t want …. to break my head now.

Philip throw some this look like me ke, for what now, patrick  abeg it is not that am not interested…..I shook my head and said okay o I’ve heard.

Next thing I know, we see this well-endowed girl approach  Philip and I promise you she literally had her chest in his face, and she was being very touchy feely.

I was surprise…a girl meeting or asking a guy out…..whooaaaaa………

Ahhh, I looked at Philip with serious look…no fall my hand oooooooo
and sent a text to him…..(look, chest of life babe ) is taking your destiny away…. you better do something.

Angela whispered something in his ear, and he got up, excused himself from chest of life and hit the dance floor with Philip….The rest is history and they are getting married soon.

So Angela toasted him…..and Philip fell for her…….so it up to ladies ….don’t always wait for the guy

Angela claims she doesn’t know what made her make that move that day according to what he told Philip my friend……It turns out Angela is a very shy person but something motivated her that day….she has always been this way and has literally asked one guy out his entire life which was my friend Philip……she meets guys  she likes, but cannot bring herself to do the needful.

Her friends have actually been the ones talking to guys on her behalf and they turn her down because its never normal to ask a guy out….

Now, I’m not saying you should go and be toasting  guys up and down o. I’m just saying  what’s so bad about it? Is it such an awful thing to do the unnatural?

I mean, countless “natural wooing methods” have ended up in the gutter anyways.

Have you asked a guy out before? Or told a guy outright that you like him and want to be with him? How did that work out for you? Is there a guy you really like, and is taking forever to say something to you but you know he likes you as well? Will you send him a text or something about how you feel and let’s hear what his response is.

Happy evening peeps