You're a superwoman!

It’s almost noon, and I’m in the kitchen washing up the dishes from breakfast. We’re a family of six, and we had tea with jollof rice for breakfast, so the number of dishes in the sink is quite puzzling. When I catch the person(s) who sneak into the kitchen to eat leftovers while I’m asleep ehn, they will really be sorry. I sigh and focus on washing out the clumps of milk and milo at the bottom of the teacups.

In the middle of rinsing them, the water stops running. The water filter must be stuck again. Irritated, I drop the teacups as gently as I can and march to the living room to tell my older brother to sort it out. He was supposed to clean out the filter yesterday, but apparently he forgot.

I find him in the living room watching Focus Nigeria on AIT. He and Papa are discussing animatedly about some new scandal in the polity. Politics brings them together, these two. For a moment I reflect on how my father and I have no common interests that get us discussing for hours. We only talk about school and even then it’s more of an interrogation.

‘Are you done washing the plates?’ Papa cuts into my reflections, a slight edge to his voice as if my presence is an impedance to their conversation. I do not answer him. Instead fold my arms and turn to glare at my brother.

‘Segun, there is no water.’

‘So what should I do?’ he asks, gracing me with an eye roll. I don’t blame him. He knows Papa will support him so he can say whatever he likes.

‘I need water to wash the plates.’ I say through my teeth.

‘But Kike, shouldn’t you know how to fix the filter by now? Will you rely on your brother all the time?’ Papa fires.

I want to say that I have never learnt because the chore hasn’t been assigned to me before. I also want to point out that since my brother loves to eat so much he should also learn how to cook so that he will not rely on me all the time, but I do not. Papa is kind of right. It wouldn’t be half bad if I learnt how to operate the borehole and fix the filter anytime the water stops running. As a matter of fact I would love that, actually.

Much later in the day, I am sitting cross legged in my bedroom, struggling with my CSS3 tutorial and equally brainstorming the project that lead me to learn web design in the first place. My brother is proficient in all the necessary web languages but he won’t teach me any because he thinks women have no place in the tech world. That’s no problem, I enjoy proving people wrong. I am so going to shock him and the rest of my family when this website takes off.

My parents come out of their bedroom and stop at my door and I look up.

‘We are going out.’ Mama informs me. I shut my laptop and raise an eyebrow. They’re all dressed up. It’s obvious they’re going out.

‘Cook.’ She carries on, ignoring my expression. ‘Cook okra soup. Use only pepper and crayfish, then fry the ice fish in that bowl on the sink. Make sure you grate or pound the okra so that it will melt properly. We’ll be back soon.’

‘Me I need help oh.’ I grumble half-jokingly while still processing the instructions. I have a splitting headache, and besides if I’m going to be fast I need a helping hand.

‘Segun help her cook the soup.’ Mama says to my brother who is entering his own room.

‘Can’t she do it alone? Me I don’t know how to do all these things.’ He snaps.

‘She can do it alone. Or is it pepper he will pound for you?’ Papa interrupts in a condescending tone. I know that is a conclusion and not a question, so I do not answer.

But still I feel the tears coming on from the sheer unfairness of it all. Suddenly I wish I had made that retort earlier in the day. I want to say a few good words to my brother too, but then it occurs to me that if I finish all the tasks before my parents get back, it will prove to my dad that I don’t need anybody’s help to cook a decent meal. He will never admit it, but he will be impressed and more importantly, proven wrong. I place my laptop gently on my reading table and head for the kitchen.

You see, in our world today, guys are excused from knowing how to do some things, but girls get more than the basic training and then some, probably because society thinks girls need to be equipped with far more skills in order to measure up to the male gender. Society thinks that by creating this imbalance I will develop an inferiority complex and squarely focus on measuring up to every guy I come in contact with.

But you see, society’s plan has already backfired on society, because all these extra training will make me into a completely independent female. A resilient soldier, a superwoman, a girl who doesn’t need to compete with the next guy or the next girl for that matter, because she is working on making herself into the best version of her. Dear society, thank you very much. As we say here, nothing spoil❤❤.