She dreams

I believe that a woman looks her best crocked
somewhere in the arms of a big bold man, who honours
and respects her, loves herto bits and treats her like
a jewel.
But every woman must also find her feet, somewhere in
the world that her heart chooses. Between nurturing
her children, and breastfeeding her man,everywoman has
a dream, and too often, in our culture, she dies with
those dreams.
The woman of Africa is invariably an amazon. Whether
she is dimunitive,or tall, robust or slim, she is a
master multitasker, akin to a hundred limbed robot.
Routinely she combines the tasks of fetching water,
grinding pepper, cooking, farming, hawking,and
trading, washing platesand clothes, sweeping,and
scrubbing. What happens to the woman's dream in the
perpetual grind of staying alive?
Described in the Yoruba culture as the ultimate god,
next only to the almighty, a mother is reverred
because she serves, appreciated because she bears it
all.she is expected to sacrifice all including her
ambitionand dream on the alter of the love that she
enshrines for her children, and much less often her
husband.
We have known mothers who are also fathers , and
fathers who are stuck somewhere in their sixteenth
birthdays.They spend their month's stipend in one
weekend and all leisure time with teenage girls. Yet
they have homes where they rule as autocrats and eat
free meals at the expense of wives who have been
taught to expect little more.