Sunday, 18 March 2012

Cinderella...

I was listening to Steven Curtis Chapman on the train home from visiting some friends, and even though I'd heard this song before, the words struck me again. Here's the song, and the lyrics to the chorus below;


So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don't want to miss even one song
'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone...

As I listened to it, I thought of mothers' day, and my mum. She really is a great woman, and I love and appreciate her deeply, but I know I don't tell her that enough. Even though the song is about a father spending time with his child because she'll soon be grown and out of his house, I realised that I could apply the same principle to me and my mum, and all those close to me. 


You see, we just don't know how long we have with those closest to us. I spoke to a couple of people this weekend that don't have their mums with them anymore. I also saw a couple of facebook posts, and a letter in the paper that I must say, reminded me of how blessed I am to have my mum with me. I don't get to see her or talk with her as often as I would like, but today as I listened to that song I found myself praying that God would keep her, but not just that, that I would also learn to show more appreciation towards her, and everyone else I claim to love.


'All too soon, the clock will strike midnight, and she'll be gone...'
Unfortunately that actually happened to Steven Curtis Chapman not long after he wrote that song- his daughter died in a tragic car accident. I pray that our stories would be different but the truth is that none of us know the future, so whilst we still have our mums and dads, brothers and sisters, friends, etc, why don't we make sure they know how special they are?


Happy Mothers' day...

Saturday, 17 March 2012

Wanted: A man that can cook!

Last Sunday, I spent a couple of hours cooking. I cooked two dishes to last the whole week cos I can't be dealing with cooking when I get back from work; I'm way too tired. Anyway, as I was slaving away, I thought of what it would be like if I ended up with a guy that couldn't cook. When I was younger, some of my friends and I always said we wouldn't want to marry a man that could cook. The reasoning was that food was one way a woman could exercise some sort of authority over a man, seeing as in a traditional African family, the man is the one that brings in most of the income, and pretty much has the final say in everything; the woman does all the cooking. So, if you happen to marry a man that can cook as well, then he has the upper hand in pretty much everything, plus he might be more critical of your cooking. And woe betide you if the kids prefer his cooking! But if you marry a guy that can't cook, if you guys have a fight, you can refuse to cook and therefore let him go to bed on an empty stomach, or go elsewhere and find some food. We were so wise in those days; why would anyone refuse their husband food?


Anyway, I think it's fair to say I no longer think the way I used to when I was a teenager. I come from a somewhat traditional African family and having watched my mum and some other women too, slave away for their husbands in the kitchen, I've decided that please, abeg, ejoo, biko, I want someone that can cook. At least a little. Is it just me or do guys that can't cook have very high expectations when it comes to food?  My dad is one of them (I love you daddy- just in case he reads this!) He usually knows when there's too much salt, or too little pepper, or the egusi isn't quite cooked, or the rice tastes a bit burnt. I mean, come on! He doesn't even know where to find the salt in the kitchen! So, I've watched my mum, week after week, cooking assorted dishes (because African men can't eat the same dish more than once or twice in the same week); she spends literally almost half a day cooking sometimes, and afterwards, she needs a proper lie-down to get her strength back- you know what some African dishes are like.


Now, my mum doesn't complain about this mind, she takes pleasure in fattening her beloved husband. So much so that when my dad is trying to be healthy and lose some weight, she still feeds him eba and all his favourite foods so that people won't think she's not feeding her husband properly.


After seeing all this palaver, I really can't see why any woman would want a man that can't cook. Apart from giving me a helping hand once in a while, a guy that can cook would be able to take care of himself when I'm not around. Back to my parents; if my mum goes away for even a couple of days, my dad has to eat out, or starve. He traveled without her once for a few weeks and when he came back, my mum almost wept at the sight of him; you would think he was suffering from some wasting disease! Whilst some might see this as some sort of compliment to my mum's cooking, I just think 'men, seriously, for your own good, please learn how to cook!'


Anyways, here's what I made on Sunday afternoon...You like?