By
Obododimma Oha
You can picture her, returning from the farm in the hot sun, her baby strapped to her back and some firewood on her head. She is probably sweating and may be barefooted. If she is wearing sandals or slippers, be sure that they have seen times and places. If it is a pair of slippers, the footwear may be depressed on one side and have experienced weights.
You could see her also heading for the market, her numerous purchases listed in her head. A pair of sandals for Bobby. A football for Junior to play in the parlor, kitchen, anywhere, to prove to everyone that he is a star in the European First Division club. Bra for Ngoo to show that she is now a big girl. Four exercise books for Njide who likes writing everywhere. Shaving stick for Daddy whose beard now looks funny. Toy guns for the twins, or no one can sleep again in the house. Even bones for the dogs so that they could bark very well and spare good visitors. She knows she is a list itself.
Rural, African women , rugged women. I shiver when I see how that one, carrying a heavy luggage, is pushing her bicycle! I have to get out of the way. I just have to.
She knows that she is not on a business trip in her home and so must sell something to make money to spend again!
Who blames her for wanting to sell that pineapple or orange, instead of having it eaten at home? She needs money to be able to buy fish, kerosene, meat, and other needs. Who blames her if the health she is selling is the same health that she is seeking?
Of course, she knows all the market days and knows each market stall. But she does not depend entirely on the market. Unlike some, she knows that it is laughable to have to buy salt from the market and also buy pepper! Ordinary pepper that every married woman should plant in her garden and harvest whenever she is cooking, if she has space for a garden! Ordinary pepper! So, everything now is from the market?
That woman is a woman, great and unassuming. Yes, she has problems but let's hope that they are not your own problems, book person.
She has skills and knows skills. In the village, they know that she can even cook ordinary water and it would be delicious. She knows every stomach in her home and how to speak to it.
Her laughter is music, great music. She knows how to use it to light up spaces.
I like it when she is pounding food for the evening. She turns the food this way and that way with vigour and grace. She is pounding the hunger of many and she is delighted. She lifts her pestle and pounds. She strikes hunger a blow. Several blows! She wins, finally.
When I saw her going home with some firewood on her head, I knew that she was not going home to rest. No! She was going home to cook. She knew that there were many hungry bellies waiting. Those bellies had even caused their owners to yawn endlessly in the nest. So, she was going to stop those yawnings.
Is it when she makes a basket she is going to sell to make little money? Watch her fingers. She has craft and she has speed. She weaves in her being and she earns credit.
Rural, African woman, you know things, even though you don't make noise about such.
You know what one can and should do and what one must not do in life. You know boundaries and you know differences. You know what you know and what you don't know.
Rural, African woman, rugged woman. When she is weeding her farm in the hot sun, she is singing and singing away her suffering. She hardly cares for that sharp stem cutting through her fingers.
Can one forget that she does not think of a makeup kit.? Does she care for eye pencils and lip sticks Does she allow her finger nails to be long? How then could she weed her farm? She doesn't need any enhancements for her body, yet she is beautiful, particularly in behavior, for her people theorize that behavior is superior beauty.
These days of cowtime, some cows would wander into the farm to eat the leaves of her corn. If she talks, she could be raped or even killed. Rural, African woman, you know SKILL, not KILL. But do not give up. Continue going to that farm. Continue weeding it. Continue using your skills. Not to kill but to heal. Nothing, nobody, can stop this weeding.
Rural African women, you have a life.
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