It was 'mothering sunday' yesterday and my time lines were assaulted with all the praise poetry to the best mothers in the world.
We all love our mothers: their's is the 'purest' form of love. They are beautiful, (even when they really aren't,) selfless, the biblical virtuous woman who always puts her family first. she will not eat until her kids have eaten, she will magically lift a car to save your life, your very own fairy godmother (just less glamorous)
Something nags at me all day and I ignore it because hey, it's the weekend until I come across a Facebook post from a friend.
His, is a song writer's ode to his mother, who I must assume must have been a saint. The best mothers are of course the dead ones. (I hear they make the best mothers in law too.)
While his thoughts of his mother are of course valid, I cant help thinking of all the words I know this same 'friend' describes other women. The all too familiar 'hoes' and the 'bitches who ain't loyal'. it is the first time he has shown a tender side but I am not suprised.
The dichotomy that is woman to the Nigerian man is baffling: MY mother and MY sister and MY daughter are clean and unsullied . Because they are mine.
All others are pigs.
Okay,okay, maybe not pigs. they are at least entertaining beings that sate you temporarily, an underhanded trap in itself that leaves you yearning for more. And only your sperm can release them from hoedom, transforming them into mothers and giving them a chance at sainthood.
Well, colour me saved.
To all my fellow saints -let's raise better sons.