When I cook, I am made to stand by the curtain and watch you eat. I have to tell from your expressions if my meal was good or not.
If I can, I am supposed to genuflect when I drop the food after I hold the bowl for you to wash your hand.
When you nod your head as the food travels down your throat, I am supposed to rejoice as I have won a good wife batch.
I am told it is a crime to make you wait for food.
As you knock on the door to announce your presence, I am to welcome you with a gentle massage and genuine inquiry about your day.
I have been told and taught a thousand and one things to do to be a good wife, but I am scared. I am scared the lessons ended with me.
No one bothered to tell you how to become a good husband.
You picked a few points from friends with no experience, in conversations they might forget so soon. While it was sung into my ears every time I allowed food to burn, I forgot to rinse a plate twice or dry clothes in the wrong side.
By Marycolette Matiki