How long does it take to peg out a load of clothes, having washed them by hand, in the early morning with a wondering promise of sun but with visible dark clouds in the horizon, onto a hang line?
How many hours of a woman’s day are swallowed up in washing, cooking, cleaning, getting children ready for school, collecting them, scrubbing and scouring grease off pans, digging and harvesting?
Maybe as many as she can spare, but most time every day. And she has night duties to keep in mind. She must not forget those or fights break out. For if he might appreciate her sacrifice of time and dreams to keep the home clean and welcoming plus giving him same, there was harmony; but mostly scorns and quarrels about her lack of beauty and being lazy were the stories that sent her to sleep.
Does he even know that the money left on the table for home supplies is not enough, doesn’t he wonder how she manages to get all the many items in those few shillings? Why he is so blind to the queen – she was one before, in the early years of courtship, so beautiful and determined, focused and inspired – once of his heart that she is wasting away in his house of low inspiration?
Home management. House maintenance. House sitting. Home warming. House, home, house, home!
Milly did all the above before she set up her banana vending business. There was need for supplementary funds in the house, as the youngest of the 5 was sickly. She was blamed for the child’s sickness. The burden for medication was on her. Oh and the money left on the table had remained the same for 7 years.
It was hard for her to determine time. She forgot to pick up those who were in school. She stumbled through the day like a deep-sea driver on an ocean floor. But still needed more time. Up at dawn, or what passed for dawn; and the routine would start.
But there was, even in the hardest day, the promise of reward. The thought that one day he will remember his promise to her, like a diver groping through the murk sustains himself with images of pirate’s gold shining through the dark bones of shipwreck, Milly clung to the prospect of the time her life will change.
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I claim these socks!
They are a bit big… will you fit?
Tehehe… Nara, the ‘socks’ privilege.
How to explain, @Nev, Help!
I need to understand this concept
Socks. You’re supposed to give them to the first person who comments on your blog post. So, find your best pair and pass it to Lynn 🙂
hmmm Let me go buy a dozen, I am sure she is working on taking all my socks
Hahaha
Patricia. Socks belong to the first commenter. Better give a pair to Lynn!
Illustrates well the importance of women becoming a part of the economic systems of the household. We are taking this concept to heart trying to do something tangible in our sector by focusing our coffee production only on women farmers. Hoping others in other industries will follow suit.
I like what you guys are doing returning to the women who invest the hard work and time.
Interesting post, but not true for all women, not even in Ug.
For the sake of balance, will you leave a similar post stating the hardships that some men face?
I will try to come up with one… I see I composed from what I see around me. But you can share your views with me and I will post them.
Nice one. I need to step up my game and claim socks. Kirabo kyaba too much!
that chic on the socks collection mission