The things we do for love

‘You know what Hubby dearest? For the first time ever, I think I am ready to believe why a poll said we, Nigerians, are the happiest people on earth.’ I said to Tahir, smiling up at him. ‘Really, did you run into facts and figures backing up that claim?’ He asked, walking into the sitting […]

‘You know what Hubby dearest? For the first time ever, I think I am ready to believe why a poll said we, Nigerians, are the happiest people on earth.’ I said to Tahir, smiling up at him.
‘Really, did you run into facts and figures backing up that claim?’ He asked, walking into the sitting room to sit next to me.
‘No, who needs facts and figures when we can see the proof, before us, anywhere we look.’ I replied, handing him the three souvenirs I held in my hand.
‘What do these have to do with what you are saying?’ Tahir asked again, lifting the calender and two notepads I handed to him.
‘Why don’t you just look through them and see for yourself.’ I urged him with a short laugh.
‘Ok, ha ha ha. I see what you mean.’ He said within laughter, ‘this is really funny. What is wrong with us Nigerians?’ He asked, rhetorically.
‘It’s more like what’s right with us Darling Hub. This must be the secret of our success. I mean our ability to celebrate everything. To see every event as worth marking in a special way, and with a souvenir to boot, is what makes us the happiest people on earth. Well, I don’t know whether we still hold the title, afterall it was 11 years ago that we won it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if we still do.
Just look at this calendar it says ‘Hafsat has returned to her father’ and see the cute little girl posing with a flower in her hand, not having an inkling that she was being celebrated because she was the subject of a custody battle which he won. I believe he just wasn’t content with telling friends and relations that he had snatched his little daughter from her divorced mum, he had to do it in a big way. By gloating over the poor woman’s loss and dancing to his own victory song. But you can’t blame him. Only God knows what a hard battle he fought before he gained custody of his beloved daughter. And the things we do for love are sometimes better imagined.’ I concluded.
‘Yes you are right Bint. But if Hafsat’s father is celebrating his daughter’s return, as an act of love, what is Shafa’atus friend doing by congratulating her on the end of her iddah (the three months waiting period after divorce)? Is that an act of love or of advertisement?” He joked.
‘Well it depends on the way you see it. From a feminine point of view, it’s an act of love. A lady who got divorced is normally not in the best of spirits. If at the end of the compulsory 3-months period, someone decides to cheer her up by organising a little get-together and sharing printed souvenirs then that is an act of real love and loyalty. The friend is the type you can call a friend in need. She probably stood by her in her darkest moments and was now willing to launch her back into society after her iddah was over. She is certainly a true friend.’ I declared.
‘And the little girl who did what every normal child does in this life, that is getting weaned from breast-feeding. Why does she need a souvenir for that? What is so special about graduating from breast-feeding because you are old enough to eat normal food? And don’t tell me its another act of love. I think love has nothing to do with it. We are talking about ostentation here.
Our people have grown so ostentatious that all they want is to have their private affairs being splashed on calenders and note pads and plates and cups. Yet these same people will say to you times are hard, that the cost of living is very high. Why won’t it be high when they engage in expensive pursuits to the detriment of what really matters?’ He queried.
‘You may not know this Tahir but even traditionally, the weaning process has always been celebrated. I remember eating both at our home and from our neighbour’s homes the gumba, a sweet, raw millet snack, that was usually shared when a child has been weaned successfully. So doing it with the souvenirs today is just enhancing what has always existed.’ I argued.
‘Whatever you say Bint, you can’t convince me that sharing the gumba and printing souvenirs to say your child has been weaned are the same thing. It’s just that you women can find any excuse to cause a hapless man to lose his hard earned pay.’ He noted.
‘Well just remember that Hafsat’s father is a man. And there was no woman breathing down his neck to say ‘do the souvenir’ because he had divorced her.’ I countered.
‘Yes you are right. But he must have picked the habit from being with you people. Women like to show off and it’s a pity that some men just like to oblige them.’ He insisted.
‘Tahir, I had no idea you still have this kind of male chauvinism in you. Hasn’t it occurred to you that in this day and age women actually earn enough to pick their bills, necessary or otherwise?’ I protested.
‘Yes I know but you can’t deny the fact that some men are made to pay for what they never planned to, out of sheer manipulation.’ He claimed.
‘Maybe, but you are definitely not one of them. So remain of good cheer, lucky husband.’ I joked.
‘Even if I am one of them, I can never tell if you play your cards well.’ He alleged, smiling.
‘Ok, the day you find that out for sure, lets do a souvenir saying ‘Bint uncovered at last.’ And we will share it to family and friends, in the Nigerian spirit of eternal happiness.’ I replied.
‘Yes that’s a great idea. And taking about great ideas, do you know that we are all alone in this house? Well, I can think of a thousand and one games spouses play when its just the two of them. How about you?’  He said rising up.
‘I can think of only one hundred and ten games darling husband.’ I said, putting my hand in his outstretched palm.