They say men are the stronger sex and I believe them. Gwe my dad beat the crap out of a rat the other day. I just could not believe it. Me, you say ‘rat’ and I will shoot out of the house so fast even the rat will come out into the corridor and laugh its tail off. But, my dad ran after this monster, turned every piece of furniture upside out and poking every pockets in the house like Osama bin Laden in it. When he finally got it, woooo! You should have been at the sidelines watching. I was literally dancing and singing, “Go Baba. Go Baba. You are the guy.”
Now THE guy, the real one … He has me doubting this stronger sex thing all over again. One of our love’s strongest bond is the fact that he can cook and I can’t. He does not even cry when he cuts onions. He is the bomb. That is until the onions threaten to become the bomb.
Somewhere in his culinary classes, a pan once caught fire when onions were thrown into overheated cooking oil. The incident has the poor soul traumatized to this very day. Trauma makes for a class act in the kitchen – as in class act drama wise. After my man has cut onions without shedding a single tear or even sneezing, he stands a good three metres away from the pan in which he intends to fry them. Then like the true basket-baller he was back in school, he picks a palmful of them and throws a volley of the lethal stuff in the general direction of the pan on the stove. Before the onions can even get halfway to the pan far far faraway, he has turned and jumped into an even further corner of the kitchen.
Tell ya! Even if he could not cook a decent meal, I would have this man cooking dinner every day.