Just Look At You

Imagine how many times you were woken up from sleep and pushed or dragged into the bathroom when you were a kid just so you can go to school.

Imagine how many times you missed the bus and had to trek or jump buses to go to school.

Imagine how many times you were flogged because you failed a test or assignment.

Imagine how many times you fought in the playground or the street behind the school.

Imagine how many times you cried for coming behind or failing a particular subject in school.

Imagine the thrill you felt when the questions and topics you read came out in the test or exam.

Imagine the excitement when you came top in class and became the envy and cynosure of all eyes.

Imagine the uncle or aunt you admired, because of the special attention they gave you for being smarter than the others and being more knowledgeable in a particular subject.

Imagine how proud you were as you stood by the door, desperately waiting for your dad and mum to come home so you can show them your report card, the one you took the first position or among the top 10 in class.

Imagine the party threw on your behalf after you passed Jamb and was offered admission into the school of your choice.

Now, imagine how much your parents spent on school fees, projects, excursions, accommodations, feeding, textbooks, fictitious lies, and clothing.

Imagine the photosynthesis lies you told.

The pain you went through.

The risks you took.

The joy during your convocation and graduation ceremony.

The prayers and tears dropped, and nerve-racking panic felt when you were posted to Kaduna or Zaria to serve.

Imagine the bruises, the tears, the laughter, the kisses, hidden smooches, experiments, sex, parties, bonfires, orientation camp, first-year parties, Ajuwayas experiences, and beautiful memories!

Just to have and own the degree you worked so hard for all your life.

Imagine everything you did and all the sacrifices too numerous and illegal to even name, just to be called a graduate, finally.

All this for what?

Only for you to forget and leave all to be a full-time housewife.

To become Mama Ibeji or Iya Glory.

Imagine dumping all these in the trash just so you can be called a Mrs, and wear the crown of a housewife.

Imagine abandoning all these all because of big preeq.

You could be a teacher, lawyer, engineer, you could be an Entrepreneur, a speaker, a Writer, an Author, social media manager, accountant for an IT firm, Movie director, dance instructor in a school, Finance  personnel in an oil company, creative director and a wife and mother...you could be any fucking thing you desire and still be a wife and a mother for the exposure and expertise education and internet gave you.

You could even be Alakija or Kim Kardashian West and still be married with kids.

Or Oprah and Genevieve, happily unmarried and stupendously rich.

But you chose to just be a housewife, and only a housewife just because your husband, the Oga patapata forbade you from working and commanded you to take care of una children, so men won't look at you.

And you agreed.

You obeyed and submitted so society and family won't call you a bad wife and label you an evil mother.

Just look at you.

Imagine you.

Submission keeps you there but stupidity will kill you there.



Kingdavid Chinaeke Ofunne