I was going to work in the morning when my wife asked me to buy her shoe polish on my way back home. I was in a hurry, so I didn’t ask questions. In the afternoon, she texted, “Please don’t forget my polish, oo.” I asked, “What shoe do you need to polish so badly that you won’t let me be?”

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She didn’t answer. On my way home, she texted, “Did you buy it? I forgot to say, but I want black polish.”

I got to a shop and asked for polish, and they said they had the liquid one. I asked them to give me the black one, and they brought it. Immediately I got home, she stretched out her hand. “The polish…”

I went through my bag, took it out, and placed it squarely in her palm. “What kind of polish is this? Ahh, liquid? This is not what I asked you to buy. You don’t listen when I talk. I want the black polish in the flat can, the one you use a brush to fetch and smear on your shoe.”

“But babe, aren’t you going to use it to polish your shoes? What difference does it make?”

She threw the polish on the floor and angrily went to lie on the sofa, crying. “I will go to my parents’ house. It’s obvious you hate me. I have to leave before you k!ll me and the baby inside me.”

She needed that particular polish because of the scent. That was what she yearned for, to smell that polish and relax her nerves and mind. I quickly dashed out, moved from store to store until I got one, and brought it to her. She opened it, slouched into the sofa, and held it close to her nose. All evening, that was what she smelled.

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I’m beginning to believe pregnancy is the devil’s idea. God is not an author of chaos, because what is this? From day one of this pregnancy, the only thing she hasn’t asked me to buy, which I believe she will ask for soon, is the intestine of a living lion. I’ve bought incense, I’ve bought mosquito coils, I’ve bought kerosene, I’ve bought that white clay they eat, I’ve bought a new goat, the smelly one.

All of a sudden, it’s looking like this pregnancy has lasted over a year, but she’s now in her third trimester. When does it get easy?

—Barnabas  

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