On Sunday of last week, you walk down your street swinging your husband’s free hand while he holds your son with the other hand.
You stand on tiptoe to kiss him on his cheeks. He pleads with you to stop. He says such actions are meant for the bedroom and not for public display.
You chuckle and stubbornly make another attempt but he moves away, laughing. Your two-year old son giggles, stretching out his small hands and beckoning on you to make Dad laugh again. Your husband finally squeezes your hand and looks at you with so much desire that your heart flips.
As you continue to walk to the junction, your husband narrates an encounter he had with a corp member who had just been posted to his place of work. It is obvious she has a crush on him and just when he got to the part of the gist where the lady stood in front of his table, licking her lips and rolling her eyes, a car stops in front of you. A lady in a yellow dress steps out.
‘Bimbo!’ She screams excitedly.
You frown, trying to make out the real face behind the heavy makeup. She hugs you and pulls away just enough for you to see her face clearly.
‘Bimbo, it’s me Dupe.’
You stare at her closely and your eyes widens.
‘Dupe!’ You look from the posh car to the lady whose school fees you had paid in 200level. You still remember how you had called the sisters in the fellowship together to raise money for her final year project. It’s been how many years since you last saw her? 7 years!
‘Dupe, is that your car?’
‘Yes, girl. That’s the machine I’m managing.’
You hug her again before planting a solid peck on her cheek. You exchange contact with her and promise to keep in touch. You watch as she drives away.
The feeling of excitement you had earlier disappeared. You wonder how life turned out so well for Dupe and so fast. Trekking suddenly seem a gruesome task- very annoying and shameful.
‘You couldn’t even introduce me to your friend.’
You smile and say nothing. So many thoughts run through your head.
‘What’s wrong?’ Your hubby wraps his hand around your waist.
That night, he tries to cuddle you but you move away. He is baffled by the cold treatment. He knows how much you love to be cuddled and how on days when he is busy writing out lesson notes for the week, you drag him to bed.
You pay Dupe a visit the following day. You had to close your shop before noon so you could beat traffic.
She leads you into her three bedroom apartment somewhere in Lekki and you gasp, awestruck at the ornate furniture and expensive decor in the living room.
In the kitchen, a man with a clean white apron tied around his waist chops carrots on a board. He smiles and bows slightly when you enter the kitchen with Dupe. The smell of grilled fish makes your stomach churn. Dupe leads you back to the living room with a bottle of wine in her hand. All you want to sit your friend and ask her how she made it.
Her husband comes out of one of the rooms in blue jeans and white T-shirt. He looks breathtaking handsome and his skin flawless. His hands are soft as he takes yours, and you notice his diction is perfect and his words, well articulated .That minute, you make up your mind never to speak Yoruba again.
Few minutes later, lunch is served. Grilled fish. Chicken wings. Fried rice. Salad. Pounded yam. Afang soup. Carrot juice. Pepper soup.
You try not to lick your fingers as you eat. Can anything be more delicious than this?
At the dinning room, you discover that your friend’s husband runs a software business and your friend has two boutiques on the island.
You thank them for the meal. Dupe takes you home in her husband’s jeep. She promise to connect you with her friends so they can patronize your shop for baby wears.
As you step into your two bedroom flat, you find your husband playing with your son in the living room. He smiles at you and says,
‘Ekabo. How did the meeting with your friend go.’
‘Fine. Has Daniel taken his medication?’
He laughs, ‘E wo ni medicachin? Com’on speak like a Nigerian. It is medicachion.’
You are irritated. You hiss and pick up your son from the faded rug. Your husband grabs your hand.
‘What is wrong with you? Gbogbo attitude tio nhu yii, mi o like eh o. If there is anything bothering you, let’s talk about it.’
You jerk away. ‘Isn’t it time you begin to look for another job? Or are you going to be a teacher all your life? And please don’t remind me about your passion for students. We need more money in this house. Imagine, we’ve been married for three years and we don’t even have a car.’
He stares at you for a long time before quietly leaving the sitting room.
Biko, who no like better thing.
We are humans and the desire to have the good things of life is inbuilt in us such that when we go through difficult times, we are tempted to fly off the handle.
I don’t think you would be acting strangely if you wish for some of the good stuff your friends have but the wahala comes when you allow it get to you and when unconsciously, you push away those who sincerely care about you.
One way to avoid this is take control of your thoughts before they settle in your heart. Learn to deal with them as quickly as they come.
If you are battling with thoughts about how you never had to divide meat into simcard size as a single or how you are tired of putting your kids on okada every day they go to school because your savings can’t even buy the cheapest car or how some days you have to drink garri with your spouse to kill the hunger(not like garri is even cheap anymore)…take out time, hold hands with your spouse and thank God for what you already have. Get on the dance floor and praise Him…encourage each other from God’s Word.
Really, your life does not merely represent the things you possess. It is foolish to measure the worth of your family by another man’s property.
The truth is, unless you learn contentment, you will never be satisfied with what you have. Besides, your Father knows the things you need. Keep trusting Him while you remain at the center of His will.
And…yes, God is able to do exceeding abundantly above all we can think or ask. He will provide.
Read: The day Lola died