I love chapattis. I mean, don’t all men love them? So the other day my wife, call her Umm Amirah if you like, was making them at home and a discussion arose after a comment i made without second thought; blame it on divided attention. But again aren’t most of us like the Kenya Police…shoot first ask questions later?
I was telling her how in order to acquire the true taste of food everything has to be done in the right way. The onions have to be diced artfully; tomatoes sliced evenly, garlic cloves grated thin and all that should then be arranged neatly on a tray prior to cooking. This so that one can take in the beauty of the arrangement and nutrients on display. And yes, the chapattis have to be perfectly round.
So Umm Amirah asks a question the way all women do; ok, the way women who love their husbands do…
“Mmh…” Me busy trying to conceal my joy at seeing the little monster of a boy King Geofferey die; he of Game of thrones, the ‘Wolf Slayer’. This boy should have died a long time ago…..
“Can i ask you something?” I am half hoping it’s about Quantum Physics (i just know a little about Quantum of Solace) which I absolutely have no idea about. Just so i get back to the next episode of Game of Thrones.
I put it on pause and look at her.”Yeah; sure.”
“Why is it that you men act all (she swings her head this way and that way) once you get married?”
“Like what, hunny?”
“I mean, like when you guys are single you literally eat anything, anywhere,” rolls some chapattis. “Then when you get married y’all giving specifications on how you want your food, how you need your clothes to be pressed, how you like your boxers arranged in the closet, the specific amount of milk in your Oats, how soft your ugali should be, how your shirts should be washed. Am sure if a man had a cat he would suggest a specific way of patting it…”
I take a moment to ponder on that. It fails to dissolve into my brain. There is a whole lot of other ‘specifications’ she specified which i cannot recall!
“Well, is there something wrong with having specifications? We do appreciate the finer points of good living, you know!”
“Is that right?”
“Yap! And whatever a woman can do a man has already tried and perfected it; all except child birth of course!” (this was the comment I alluded to in the first paragraph)
She goes quiet. Am not sure whether she is content with my answer or planning to plaster my face with hot chapatti. I brace myself. I even consider how much it would cost to do plastic surgery on my face if she so decided to chapatti makeup me! but again, she loves this face of mine so i guess am safe!
“Ok. I have a test for you to discredit your theory.”
“Bring it on Baibe!” Now, my fellow brothers, never ever accept a challenge from your woman unless you are pretty sure you are capable of meeting it.
The next thing she did caught me completely off guard.
“Go ahead and make a perfectly round chapatti!” she ushers me towards where the chapatti moulding tools were, all covered in wheat flour. I regretted not going to watch the weekend games with my pal Rashid.
I compose myself and plan my defence.
“Hey hunny, si you know i have never made chapattis my entire life!!”
“Nah nah nah!” she is shaking her head. I think she is really cute when she does this. I make a mental note to mention it before we sleep.
“Ok, if you insist then I’ll do it!” Ooooh, the magnanimity of the vanquished!
Let’s just say the chapattis I rolled were anything but round. One looked like a stretched cow hide (very appetising), another like blotched ink on paper (very blogger) and the last one looked like it had some kind of hangover.
In total I made 3 terrible chapattis.
“See!” she says, holding the ‘cow hide’ with her index finger and thumb.
“Looks artistic!” I say proudly.
“But you know what hunny, it’s not the shape that matters.” I strongly defend myself. “I have made them with soo much love you are gonna fall in love with me all over again!!”