I was having an epiphany and with it came a eureka moment of just how much I love food. Food actually accepted me as one of its own! We love food, and we hope food loves us with that same undeniable abundance. What is life without food? Suicide. So it is safe to say that if some bimbo is clueless about striking a matchstick to fix a meal, then, they should at least know about hunger-strike and how best they can practice the same.
Let’s break the ice here. One of the reasons some relationships and marriages head to the dogs is because one soul in that couple can only cook up excuses rather than cook a kick-ass dish (Could this be the reason Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt broke up?). For them, ordering pizza, chicken wings and smoothies makes the best for a thanksgiving to a rumbling stomach. Don’t mind about her, she can actually eat a burger perfectly without spilling some. Never misses Burger, Pizza or the Cake Festival. Her nails are well polished and long enough to dig her grave so she can’t cook lest she breaks her multipurpose nails. Of course a sane man who has nothing to show for the day but blood, toil and sweat, will scarcely relish that sappy snacky junk. Ironically, she will want this same man to give her a powerful raunchy beastly performance in bed later that night. As if peanuts and spinach burger can fuel that raging stamina to last them both for an acceptable period of a not so rookie nookie.
Don’t dare mention that she can’t cook because an attitude as bad as stale bread will slap your face, and maybe a frying pan will follow, flying towards your man junk. Calming her down will be as successful as trying to baptize a cat.
That man will one day stray into another woman’s dungeon, only to be met with an amorous aura that will make him consider quitting breathing in oxygen. Served to him will be a proper meal with love on the side. He will taste it and feel invigorated. An acknowledging nod will follow and he will destroy that tasty meal with a renewed robust appetite. That savour will be one helluva savior to his bowels which have always suffered digesting an underwhelming concoction of inedible herbs. The meat he eats back at home is usually so undercooked, sometimes he wishes he could have just run down to a cattle dip and took a bite off the steak of a damn cow. A breathing cow! But this meal was different, marinated and soft like some these light-skins. He will wipe off the sweat after such a sumptuous meal and drink gallons of holy water. Probably from the red sea because this is the Promised Land. Then he will wonder why he didn’t just fall from heaven right into this woman’s house. That cuisine he just ate is nothing compared to manna from heaven. That lady probably took forty days and forty nights to come up with that delicacy. Maybe she used up all her brains in the process of showcasing her culinary skills. That man wouldn’t mind taking the raw meat she might offer for dessert! That is how you lose your man fair and square.
You will marry a woman who has a pierced nose, even worse with half a kilo of a nose ring hanging by her nostrils, food will be burning but she won’t smell shit. Of course she will have treated you like a god because she is just about to serve you burnt offerings. Tell you what, If you can’t cook and your man sneaks out to go visit some other mistress with culinary skills, that is not cheating. It’s survival for a bloody life’s sake! Donald Trump and the devil will understand. The gods will pardon the man’s misery and save him from an eminent calamity. God will let you have her play the trophy wife. See… I told you, the one’s we love hurt us the most, like pizza burns the roof our mouths.
Education has emancipated many as is part of the plan to liberate the marginalized souls. Ladies and gents are nowadays well-endowed with life lessons to that point you can hardly challenge their entitlement to political correctness. The moment you mention that a woman should be well acquainted with the kitchen, feminists will go on a rampage, burning schools and burning even more food in the kitchen. They will collaborate with the government to make your death slow loud and mysterious like that of Kabetes for being an audacious chauvinist. And just like that you will be dead for saying something that was misinterpreted as something like-a woman’s place is in the kitchen. You won’t even know that you are dead and worse is you won’t have a hunch of what exactly killed you.
In this century, men can actually cook in this part of the country (including the author of all the above mischief yet he’s not even a chef). And that’s a milestone towards gender harmonization. Nevertheless, there is this succinct intrinsic instinct given to women that brings out a natural endowment to nurture. Like they religiously nurture their babies. It is inevitable, and most men wish cooking was given the same attention. A woman and her kitchen maketh a home. If a househelp is advertently involved, then at least inculcate in her some basics once in a while.
And just to be clear, forget all those additives that revamp the taste of food to levels only Chef Ali can unravel. Forget Royco, hoho, dania or kitunguu saumu. Forget coriander ginger or turmeric. An enthusiastic woman will cook with her very soul and not necessarily her hands. The tears summoned from her eyes by the propanethial irritant in onions should flow right into the cooking pot as part of her secret ingredient. The warmth of her soul should reek and mix up with that soup. That right there, is a broth brewed with love.
Times have changed. Men are cooking their own meals because women want to fix the electrical systems in the house and risk burning the entire house rather than burning just the kitchen while cooking. You can bet they can’t fix a meal because they are erudite who have masters and degrees. Isn’t that what we’ve all been fighting for? Educating the girl child? Well gender balance is okay but it does zero input to change your biology. Have some chivalry towards your gender and accept that with it comes a set of responsibilities.
Good food and a good sex always wins the test of the ever experimental life in marriage. Take away the two and what are we left with? Infidelity, room service for two in hotel rooms and a debacle paved with divorce settlements. Love is overrated. Cook him a meal proper! Make the sex apocalyptic. It’s that basic. No witchcraft needed.
Out here, there are a few remaining sober people who are less worried about a fairy-tale romance and are only concerned with finding someone who can cook first-class chapos. Chapos that can make Uhuru and Ruto never to eat in a kibanda while being photographed in a deliberate attempt to boost their public relation and rubberstamp their humility. Chapos that can make Zuckerberg forget about Mama Oliech’s fish and make Kenyans move on from the fact that a geeky mzungu ate fish in this country!
People out here are not preoccupied with huge diamond rings, over-the-top wedding and a ridiculous love story to tell a friend. People want good food served with love that precedes a mother’s love. And for those who wish to tie the knot; marry someone who knows how to cook, looks go away, Hunger doesn’t!
Read also ; She can’t cook? she’s a rookie go grab a cookie.