Can you fight with some love, please?

We fight, I fight, Jesus! I curse! we almost want to stab each other at some point. We hate those we love the most because we love them that much. However there are things, a many that we forget. Fights in relationships are inevitable. Fights, they say are healthy, in fact, the more you fight, the more you understand each other. The more you fight, the better you get when you make up! I am struggling to keep the thought off the next thing that rhythmically comes to mind…the more you fight, the better you get at it! Oh my, that’s evil! This is however not how we feel in that instance when a fight starts. Its systematic, often kicks off with a stupid word or grunt that we usually regret to have said later…that one cotton-picking word that just sets the whole place ablaze. (Forgive me, I got some rub-off from my favourite writer) From what I know and have seen in the news , with my neighbours and with my husband, it always starts with a bad mood followed by a wistful feeling to quarrel.

Mr. and Mrs. Dog

This is how it starts with us, and exactly how it started at my neighbours’ despite frantic efforts to talk in low tones. I contemplated singing a loud misplaced song, one kind of zilizopendwa that they like playing so loudly on weekends making us unwillingly nod rhythmically to the tunes even when our minds want out of the tunes. couple-fightmy intention would probably be in an effort to make them realize that whatever it is may not really be worth it. Still, I remembered how that wistful feeling must pass before any reasonable thoughts are reached. So I listened. “Woman, did you just call me a dog? Me; your husband? A dog?” the man sluggishly spoke. Clearly he had had enough to make his tongue heavy. Wow, that was wrong, I thought. She didn’t feel wrong though, “ You come in here all drunk at this time of the night and won’t let me sleep! Yet I will leave you here snoring like a train with a broken engine in the morning!” Ouch! I thought. She wasn’t making this any better. The guy, drunk and sloppy seemed to struggle to get his balance, which he lost anyway and hit something, that went sprawling to the floor. “You called me what?” he muttered clearly struggling to focus on the latter insult. He would deal with the train one later.

Socks and matchboxes

The dog punched his wife somewhere near her mouth, as the next words that came out of her were, “Oh, what’s wrong with you?” But they sounded more like Oh! hats hang ith yu! A struggle ensued and the dog proved himself stronger than Mrs. Dog who eventually conformed into begging him to calm down so they don’t let the neighbours hear them. We heard from the part where you called him a dog! I was tempted to say, instead I checked to make sure al my girls, Viv, included were not party to my eavesdropping. As I did so, I couldn’t help but think of all the tiny things that have made Justin and I fight almost to hell and back; As a smoker, he would steal my matchboxes, use them and place them in places he would not remember later(in his pocket, on the TV counter, in his other pocket or on my dresser). He still throws his socks and misses the laundry basket… and sometimes even when he cant tell me a juicy story with all the juice in it I cause fire, but a dog? No, I would never call him that.

That moment when you feel so mortal…

The night was sombre, cold and weary; dark with the clouds swaying so low you could literary smell their thickness in the air. The rainy season was fast approaching and as usual my family and I kept warm from the chill. Meanwhile, Vivian, (I would like to change her name to Presley- I risk getting caught! Remember the name changing episode I told you about?), worked herself off in the kitchen frying, stirring and making sure to fully own the kitchen space. She wore her favorite apron that she would simply tie round her waist and still show off her girlie top. Pesh was warmly dressed as she took to the floor racing her plastic chair like she would a car; from the kitchen and straight to the end of the living room. We happen to have an open kitchen plan that at some point we regret especially when particular foods are prepared. Pesh raced on, driving us mad as we struggled to watch the prime time news amidst all the noise.

It was on a Thursday and the menu read rice and beef stew. All seemed well till I heard a knock on the door and immediately stood up to get it. I felt a pang of dizziness that sent me back into my seat, leaving me both confused and terrified at the same time. Justin’s attention was with me and Pesh loudly voiced, “Mom! What is it?” Presley got the door. It was no one worth rushing for; the monthly security was due. Justin sorted it out and came back to sit next to me although I felt better already. Pesh went on playing and occasionally ran up to peer into my face and make sure I was alright.
The following morning, I went to work at my usual time; however I felt unusually hungry. I could not hold it any longer so I stopped by a supermarket in town and bought me some queen cakes. I carried them in my bag and took my second bus to work. I constantly kept having the urge to pull one out; something I was not used to doing especially if it was meant to go down with some hot beverage at my office desk… this was getting interesting… I let my hunger rule and quickly pulled one cake out. Without a care in the world, I munched it up systematically pulling out another and taking it all in three huge bites. I surprised myself when I felt OK and full enough to get to work before I could eat again.

I seemed OK at work; except the part where I forgot it was time to send out monthly invoices for our clients. My boss sent me a reminder; not too pleased that for the past two years I have always been on time, and then suddenly it didn’t seem as important anymore. I apologized remorsefully and went ahead to send an invoice that read 0.00 in a neat PDF document. It read paid in my records and I only realized this grave mistake, four hours into the day. Just when I found out I had made a mistake and began rectifying it, the telephone line by my desk rang. The extension number that read on the screen was enough to get my heart on a marathon race and I had this dying urge to ignore it and pretend I was in the bathroom. Unfortunately, I happen to be a bad pretender. I picked the handset up and answered it meekly. His booming voice on the other end wasn’t helping much as I quickly explained that I had just dispatched the correct hard copy (which I still held in my trembling hands. He sounded like he was trying hard to understand me; for some reason, he seemed to comprehend me better than I did myself. I was creeping myself out.

By midday I was already ravenous and surprisingly, I didn’t fancy any food. I held my hunger two more hours and by the time our lunch lady came in, I was so hungry, I never thought fasting could happen while still on a heavy meal. I felt disgusted by my own saliva and the food could not go down. “It must be the hunger” I thought it’s that feeling one gets when they starve too long and suddenly have a heavy meal. My tummy could not hold it so I rushed into the bathroom and it all came out. Scared and confused, I opted to have fruit salad till my body got normal. The salad went down well despite the metal taste in my mouth and every time it landed inside I felt a sense of reassurance. That evening, I went home peacefully and all seemed well till I got off the bus in my hunger surge, I went straight into butchery and bought a large chunk of mutura gobbling it all with a lot of chilli. This was getting too much. I picked up a dozen pregnancy test kits from a chemist nearby and slowly trotted home.

Auntie Moody

Moody as the clouds
Some days can be quite refreshing and pleasant; others just choose to be void and just….there. This is one of those days when everything is just plain and obtainable. That’s actually what I feel like right now. It’s empty with no problems to solve and no exciting news to cheer me up. Everything including the bright lime colours of my kitchen and our food time-table is suddenly boring. Not even Pesh’s funny faces or break dances can make me laugh today, leave alone Justin’s attempt to tickle me. In fact, the latter makes me very irritable. I am a walking time bomb. This is just one of those days when my boss knows best not to expect any tea till the office assistant is back from errands. I have neither sweet cakes nor cookies hidden in my bag and I dint feel like having the snacks they brought either. I pull my face and wear a frown, allowing the numbing feelings get the best of me.
I suppose it could be because of the boring weather; it rains and it gets all muddy; and we have to wear these heavy sweaters, scarves and sometimes those abhorred mismatched socks at home…We all look the same with jackets, hoods and trench coats so if you are a lover of bright coloured sun dresses and fitting t-shirts like I do, you start feeling as though grandma just played dress-up on you! Now that I mention that, I pity Pesh. I put the whole closet on her and only spared her from a monkey cap when Justin promised to burn it up. I think she got a heat rash.
Troubled Me
I am afraid of the cold. I don’t know of any plants that survive well in cold wind so I can have something to thank Jesus for. All I know is it awakens the sicknesses that have been quietly asleep in us; from tooth aches, to malaria, pneumonia to tooth- cracks. The old aged lose their battles to diseases in the cold season and children flood into wards as they get admitted to hospital for all sorts of air and water borne diseases. Each day I live troubled by the mere thought of a phone call from Vivian telling me how high Pesh’s temperature is.
It makes it worse to bear when I get calls that my nephew got admitted when he got a convulsion from high fevers… how does anyone sleep at night when even turning a head leaves with you with scratch marks of trepidation? It’s as though the grim reaper visits to mock me with evil thoughts. He pretends to hook the people I care about with his scythe and after a few heart wrenching sways accompanied by a thunderous and controlling laughter, he drops them and leaves silently, head hung low and without a single look back; as though he suddenly got scolded by his boss to stop playing with humans like they are toys.
A tinge of hope
Seemingly, God understands what I go through as he never fails to give me hope. Occasionally during the day, he lets the sun peep out and send its warm, soothing rays through my window. Its gentle cascade seems to whisper sweet words to my ears, sending happy hormones rushing through my veins. I can finally afford a smile. He clearly understands that at this point, the rainbow could be on the other side of the hill, furnishing the people on the slopes with memories of His love. At this point my spirit ceases from being low and I get lifted high to enjoy the little warm air that escapes from the steam in my kitchen. I realise once again that this life is just being true to me, proving its natural self to me. No one is perfect, not even the best or the richest. It is actually up to us to make the most of the time we have. Since I realise we will always have two rainy and cold seasons each year. Life need not stop till the sun shines. I will prepare to enjoy it and live up above it. I will get exciting things that my family and I will only during the cold seasons and others for the sunny one. This had better work. I will put in all I can to ensure it does. If not, and I continue getting these low energy episodes…then I better get checked! A little someone could be setting camp in me!