Every chore I helped my wife with became my job. I helped her do laundry one day and I became the man who rinses and hangs the clothes in the dry line. I sliced vegetables for her and now she waits for me before she cooks the stew. She tells me, “I like your company here that’s why I wait.” She’s lying. I call her “Do it once and you do it forever.” In response, she says, “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

We are a young couple. No child. No relative living with us. We live alone and it’s just alright that we do some of these things together. Love is like that. A hand goes so a hand will come but I never for once thought helping her do this one particular thing will eventually become my job.

She doesn’t know how to shave very well. She will shave down there and there would be standing spots and sections of hair as if they serve a living God so the blade misses them each time she shaves. I told her, “What kind of shaving is this? Is that a punk on top of your distin? You say you’ve shaved but see hair all over there.”

I was laughing at her while she tried looking at it with a mirror. She told me, “It’s not intentional ooo. I don’t see there clearly when shaving that’s why.”

I put her down on the bed and shaved it clean for her. Guess what, currently, whenever there’s hair there, she brings me the shaving stick, opens her legs and tells me, “Do it clean for me like you did it the other time.”

I’m now the guy who shaves without leaving a punk on top of the hill so she comes to me every time. When I say every time, I mean every time without fail. I could be sleeping and snoring. I could be praying in tongues for angels to descend. I could be in a coma. My wife will resurrect me from the dead, give me the shaving stick and open up.   

I’ve realized she’s not going to stop so I’ve learned to make lemonade with the lemons thrown at me. I asked for favours before doing it. She does them without fail because she needs my expertise down there. And since she’s not going to stop, I’m using it as an opportunity to learn barbering.

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Very soon, the kids will start coming. They’ll grow as fast as mushrooms in the rainy season and I will be the one to barb their hair. One day, Joel will ask me, “Dad, how did you learn to become this good at barbering?” I will stoop to his level and say, “When you do things for your wife, you can become good in everything. I mean everything.”

He won’t understand but one day, he’ll grow up to know that I didn’t lie to him.

—Bruno

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