As a housewife, Eunice’s day begins long before the world around her awakens.
She stares at the crack of dawn, the weight of another day pressing down on her weary shoulders. She doesn’t need an alarm clock; the cries of her “kaakyire” (last born) Sikayena pierce through the silence of daybreak, pulling her from the brief sanctuary of sleep.
Agyekum, her husband, lies undisturbed in their bed, his heavy snores a permanent alert of his lack of concern to the burdens she carries alone.
In the kitchen, the hum of the refrigerator is the only sound accompanying her as she prepares breakfast. The cold floor bites at her feet as she moves through the familiar motions boiling water for porridge, slicing bread, cracking eggs.
Each task she performed with precision, her mind already racing ahead to the meals she must prepare for lunch and dinner. There is no room for error, no space for rest.
As the morning inches closer, the house begins to quiver. Her three children, still sleepy-eyed and clutching to the residues of their dreams, shuffle to the bathroom.
Eunice forces a smile, concealing the weariness that threatens to drown her. She knows they see her fatigue, but they are too young to understand, too innocent to carry the knowledge of her struggles.
Once breakfast is done and the children are fed and sent to school, Eunice moves on to the next task. She tidies up the family area, her hands moving swiftly as she dusts, vacuums, and mops. The cleaning is relentless, an unending rotation that leaves her with little time to breathe.
The bathrooms demand her attention, the kitchen counters need scrubbing, and the bedrooms three in total, including the guest room that no one ever uses must be meticulously cleaned. She pushes herself through the motions, her body throbbing from the constant strain.
Eunice sets aside the cleaning clothes and sits with them, her mind shifting gears. The grocery list is already forming in her mind as she organizes closets and cluttered areas. The shelves are nearly bare, and the pantry running low on essentials.
She will have to go shopping again, striding the crowded Madina market. The thought of it fills her with dread, but she has no choice. Her family needs come before her own, always.
She stretches every cedi, every ingredient, trying to create something filling and wholesome for her children when they return from school. The meal planning is a twisted dance of balancing nutrition with the meager budget she manages amidst the Country’s economic hardship.
As the day drags on, Eunice finds herself in the kitchen once more, preparing lunch.
The saucepan on the stove bubbles over, and she wipes her brow, sweat mixing with tears she refuses to shed.
By the time dinner is served, Eunice is running on fumes. Agyekum returns home, his presence a heavy tsunami that dampens any warmth the house might have held. He eats in silence, barely greeting her and acknowledging her efforts, as if the food on his plate magically appeared without the hours of labour she poured into it.
In the midst of her chores, her children call out to her, from the family area needing help with their homework. Serwaa sat on the chair as she watched her three children wrestle with their homework. Her eyes, heavy with the fatigue of the day.
She leaned over her eldest, Odensi, her voice gentle yet firm as she guided her pencil across the page, the younger two, Maafia and Sikayena at her sides, their little brows furrowed in concentration.
After the last equation was solved and the final sentence penned, she gathered them up, leading them to the bathroom where she bathed each one with tender hands, scrubbing away the day’s dust and sweat. The scent of Geisha soap filled the air as she wrapped them in warm white towels.
She tucked them into bed, pressing a kiss to each forehead, whispering promises of a better tomorrow. (promises she wasn’t sure she could keep). The room fell quiet, the only sound now the soft breath of her sleeping children.
Serwaa stood in the doorway, a single tear tracing the line of her cheek.
As always, Agyekum was absent, lost somewhere between his two phones and the bottom of a beer bottle.
Once the dishes are washed and put away, Eunice tackles the final chore of the day: laundry and ironing. The pile of clothes seems to grow larger each day, a mountain she must conquer before she can rest. Her fingers ache as she folds each garment, the iron hissing as it smooths out wrinkles. Her mind is deprived of sensation, her spirit crushed beneath the weight of endless responsibilities.
When she is done, in the dead of night, Eunice takes a shower and allows herself to collapse onto the bed. Her body screams for rest, but her mind is already racing ahead to tomorrow, to the duties that will start all over again.
Agyekum is beside her, unmindful of the silent tears that wet her pillow, to the pain that gnaws at her soul.
Watch out for Part 7
To read previous parts, follow this link https://ghananewsonline.com.gh/story-story-the-maids-desire-part-1/
By Nana Ama Asantewaa Kwarko
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nana Ama Asantewaa Kwarko offers a wide range of writing services, including:
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