It was weird. The food, the music and her attire that evening. What was on her mind? There was something odd about her movements as she served the food.
The food tasted nice. She didn’t use most of the spices on the market. Chemicals. And chemicals have become the bulk of what we eat these days.
She hated processed foods. She detested European fashion and her aversion to Western politics and politicians seeped through each conversation we held.
While I stared at the wilting dreadlocks of the single lady in her forties as she began ranting and raving as usual about how aloe vera is the best replacement for body lotions, about how white people are plotting to finish blacks and about how she dissuades all her friends and family from entering politics, I wondered which man would marry her.
She’s forgotten, perhaps, that there are white people who seek the welfare of black people more than most black people do about their own welfare.
And she wouldn’t pause for breath for me to chip that in.
All her long sermons that evening, if they were meant to evoke admiration for her, she was in for a rude shock.
I wasn’t moved. Neither was I seduced by the odd show and attire she had put on.
Besides, I never intend marrying a woman much older than I am. When I think of a wife, I think of someone I can showcase with pride, not someone I feel too ashamed to introduce to my circle.
Mowabites Worldwide 