It was Tuesday evening after work. I had had a long day and was so glad it had ended well. I drove up to the gate and waited for it to be opened. Meanwhile I admired the fresh bloom of dandelions that lined up the sides of the gate. The spring air was crisp and fresh. A man walked his dog past my gate. He smiled and said hi, I smiled back and waved a hearty hallo to him. It was so beautiful to have kind neighbors. The kind that always greet you with a smile. Down the road were two young boys heartily laughing as they rode their scooters round and round, enjoy the energy that coursed through their veins. It was good to be home and finally rest, away form the crowds and to some quiet space. To catch up with myself.

The gate slid open and I went down the driveway to the garage. I waved at the guard and smiled, he waved back with a smile and busied himself closing the gate.

I parked my car and as I was about to step out, my phone rang. It was Moana. She was hysterical and sobbed uncontrollably. I called out her name thrice so she could calm down. “I can’t take this anymore, I am done. I am going home” she sobbed on the phone. What had happened? She was complaining about her marriage. They had been married for two years and were expecting their first child. She was a campus student who got married at the tender age of twenty. I am not sure she even knew what she was in but was a wife, and all that pertained to the role of a wife fell on her. she was studying engineering and the lessons were demanding, with her needing to put in long hours at school to avoid getting supplementary exams. Paul was a career man with a well-paying management position. They had a beautiful home and they seemed to be in love until you got to know how their every day was like. It was a struggle. They quarreled and fought on most days over almost everything. From what to cook to what to wear to what to do with their free time on Saturday. For those of us who still came home to our empty nests and were still in the single and not-so-available club, that was not what we wanted. It was not worth the hassle so we decided to wait, not sure till when but for now we waited before walking into suck a mess. I calmed Moana down and eventually convinced her to stay and talk to Paul for them to consider seeing a counsellor. At least to get someone to help. She agreed and I purposed to follow up with her at the end of the week if she did not get into another fight.

My conversation with Moana got me thinking. I imagined the transformation that society had gone through. From the days man was a hunter and gatherer: roaming the earth in search of fruits to a sophisticated creature who operated machines and drove cars. But one who was struggling to find their balance in life.

Paul was the perfect African male. The kind that does not step in to the kitchen lest they turn into a woman. The kind that ascribed to the fact that home and any associated duties were to be done by the wife and he was to be a supporter. A cheerleader of sorts. He brought the bread home and expected Moana to make the home. A role she had accepted but which she needed help on. If she was going to complete school, she needed a partner who would help her around the house. But not Paul. He also could not hire a help for her. what kind of woman hires a help when the children have not come yet? Unless a lazy one.

Moana’s day began at 5am. She woke up and gave Paul his ‘morning glory’ before preparing breakfast for both of them. She then showered and packed her books and lunch. She took a bus to college since lessons began at 7am sharp and lateness was not acceptable. She would shuttle between the various lessons in college and had a full schedule with discussion groups in between.

At 5pm, she would hurry from school to go home and cook ad make the home. On the way she would stop to buy groceries and anything else she needed for dinner. At home, she would first prepare evening tea so that when Paul arrived, there would be something to take away his fatigue from the hard day at work. Sitting behind his big desk on a rolling chair and with a bell which he rang to ask the secretary to pour him his cup of tea. Then he would drive home and arrive so tired of sitting in traffic for an hour. It was such a hard day. Thinking is such hard work. Notwithstanding that he had not read his newspaper all day. You see, he needed to catch up with the current affairs of the nation. At 7 and 9 pm, he also needed to watch the news to further this knowledge. I guess in employment school they take current affairs exams. Just maybe.

After making tea, Moana would then prepare dinner and proceed to clean the dishes from breakfast. She would then shower, eat and iron her clothes and Paul’s for the following day. Then she would clear the table and settle down to do her assignments and read around 9:30pm as Paul watched tv and caught up with his newspaper. At 10pm Paul would proceed to bed. He was rested, well fed, and well informed. On the way, he would pass by where Moana was reading and take her by the hand. She knew what that meant. There was ‘dessert’ to be served and Paul liked it served in his room. She would follow him like a sheep to the slaughter, only that unlike a sheep that would bleat on the way, she would cry in her heart. This felt wrong. It was too much. But her attempts to get Paul to assist had fallen on deaf years. Was she accepting she had failed as a wife? Her mother told her that all women go through that and were expected to make their homes and make their husbands happy without complaining. If she had done it for over 30 years, Moana too could do it. In any case, Paul was a ‘good’ man. Notwithstanding that her mother was a housewife, not a student and had a nanny to assist her.

Moana ‘served’ Paul his dessert and went back to her desk. He did not even say good night. He dozed off as soon as he had ‘eaten’. It was now 11 pm. Moana sat down; her energy completely gone. But she had an assignment and a project that were due the following morning, and a CAT in two days for which she had hardly read. She felt her baby kick in her womb and smiled. She had to do this no matter what. She was a fighter, a winner. The power had gone and it was time to switch on her generator to see her through the rest of the evening. It was not until 2 am when she finally crawled to bed. She was tired and all she wanted was to sleep. She tiptoed into the room and groped her way to the bed, keeping the lights off not to wake Paul up. Paul had just finished the first phase of his sleep. He heard her come in and turned and as soon as she landed in bed, the rest is history. At 2.30 am she fell asleep and when her alarm rang at five am, she got out of bed to go and make breakfast so that when Paul woke up at 6:30, he would find something to charge him up for the day. As she left for school, she wondered where she could get lithium batteries. The kind that last and last and last…. She needed a recharge: a super-strong recharge!