Fresh Soup

He gets home. She is tired but managed to prepare dinner; a dish of Egusi and Pounded yam. He looks really hungry. She asks “will you eat now or after your bath?” He replies with a question and a sneer on his face “Is the soup fresh?” *Pause. "Is the soup fresh?"

*Deep breathe. I'm very tired, you don't ask about my day, you don't ask how I feel, and you don't even lift up your eyes to look at my bone weary face, the least you can do like a status quo husband is greet me with an endearment but those are to difficult for your ego to form. I go out and look for a means to support you making sure we never have to beg for anything, I cater for the children we both have, I clean them, feed them, try to instil a good character and the fear of God in them because the society has stated that as a woman that duty lies solely on my shoulders. You ask "Is the soup fresh?

The house we both invested in is kept by my keen eyes and my feminine touch is its nucleus. Every time you need me I'm right there and I reply to your calls with an urgency that words can't explain and yet you ask "Is the soup fresh?" In prayers you are the first thing that pops up in my list, cracked are my knees in intercession for you, my tears never ending when asking for the  blessings of God to rain upon you and you ask "Is the soup fresh?" The money for the soup that I heated up for you was from my purse and you dare ask "Is the soup fresh?"

Deep down in my heart, the saddest form of laughter I can muster rises but remains in me, for tradition commands that I submit to my husband in all areas and never rear my head up in defiance against him. I dare not disobey, lest I try to know what my punishment would be. So I reply in the gentlest manner “No, it isn't fresh” and ask “what soup do you want?”

"Because I am female I am expected to aspire to marriage." Adichie.

@nkemoyaghire

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