In the branded supermarket, about to pick up the laundry detergent, he glanced at a face he knew. Long time no see! How are you? Tell me about it, she replied. I’m alright you know. How are you? Managing affairs as we do, he said. Her trolley rammed with food and sundries and his plastic basket minimal, they faced each other and began to chat as people went about their shopping.
Do you see anyone from school? Do you still go clubbing? How is work? How are the kids? Girls or boys? 3 boys she said. They can cook, wash dishes, dust and polish, and hoover… they never have to rely on a woman. That’s excellent he nodded but she sighed.
To be honest, my eldest son’s girlfriend just sits down. He does all the work. Cooks, cleans, even irons. I can’t believe it. I didn’t grow my son up to be a footstool. He’s no fool she said. He inquisitively asked: It’s a woman’s world. Man’s power is eroding and I am not complaining.
Well, I am not happy about that she said. I don’t want a woman to take my son as a tool. With power becomes responsibility he said, shrugging his shoulders and smiling. She smiled back. Time pressed.
OK she said. Nice to see you again. She formally raised her hand to offer a handshakeshake. He expressed his surprise. I thought you only shake hands now, she said. Oh no. We go back from school he, requited. They warmly cuddled each other and went about their shopping.