Last nite, our neighbours, our delightful sisters and brothers of the accepted-polygamy faith, were at it again. This time two of the sisters were fighting over a man. It would have made better sense to me if they had been fighting over a turkey for Christmas-but a man. The screams almost woke up my baby Zion but thankfully did not.
Have you ever felt a chill when someone’s long nails scrape the chalkboard? That’s exactly how my husband and I felt. We heard the house help adding onto the screams by threatening anyone who dared interfere and help. That meant us, the willing to help neighbours. We were actually more curious than willing to help. We heard the sticks thrashing someone’s back. Does that constitute as domestic violence if one woman beats another? That is something for NGOs to fret about. As I mentioned before, why not fight over a Christmas turkey? That would make the season a little more merrier and meaningful.
I do not know how the fighting women story ends. I just hope that I do not have to spend the night before Easter listening to the same cries. I would rather hear women fighting over an Easter bunny or Easter egg.
My daughter’s first Christmas will be at Kingfisher Resort in Jinja because Christmases in Kampala can only be summarized as cooking, cleaning, washing, serving guests and lying idle and it doesn’t get better with a baby. We want to change the tradition. Cooking not, cleaning not, working not and stressing not.
As one wise man once said, no, not wise man, wise woman. As one wise woman said, Anyway since there are many wise things that women have said I am finding it very difficult to choose just one.