I'd sensed it brewing for some time, but I could never bring myself to be too firm with Nyasha. How can a good woman be firm with a daughter that wants anything but to be a good woman by societal standards? Maybe being too firm would have prevented the fight. Maybe I try to keep the peace too much. Maybe I think too much. Yes, I reckon that's what it is. I think too much. I am too capable of reasoning and independence to be a woman with two children and a husband to look after and yet submit too. Perhaps that's why I couldn't stop that fight between Baba and my Nyasha. I simply don't have the power.
But how can I not think? All this patriarchy... it's not fair. I have as much intelligence as Baba, but do I get the credit? No. Never will I either. Is it wrong to be jealous if you are capable of hiding it behind a smile? I hated sitting there and listening to Baba tell little Tambudzai how lucky she was to have such a generous uncle. As if he earns all the money in this house! As if he is the God of this universe. However, I suppose that, in a way, he is just that. Perhaps that is why I felt obliged to sit and quietly agree with his words, emphasizing his generosity and work ethic and kindness. And perhaps my sense of the necessity of such agreeing is why I am a woman. Why I am the lesser of two halves said in some places to make a whole.
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