Heh heh. It can only be “young mum of one” and newlyweds that will rejoice over such a “gift.” It is like being grateful to your husband for taking his own child to a hospital when he is sick. Buying the sewing machine is a calculated move, not a gift. Only women who’ve clocked over a decade in marriage eventually connect the dots. That machine isn’t empowerment—it’s enslavement with a bow on top. She’ll use it to sew clothes, hustle day and night, and pour every single kobo she earns back into the house while oga stretches his legs and uses the savings he makes on his own money from her efforts to fund sweethearts and hotel rooms.
Don’t be fooled—she won’t touch a dime of that money on herself. Not even a decent human hair wig or one “unnecessary” luxury. We naija women have been trained from birth to manage, to shrink ourself, to carry the burden “with husband.” I know, because I was her. Every so-called gift I got was something to make me work harder—broom, mop, cooking pots, lawn mower and my own version of sewing machines. I mean, what I use in my line of business. The way the guy was always buying it and asking if I need it. I thought it was love. No. It is so that cash cow can continue to produce cash and free his purse of some change to spend on side chicks. Never once a gift that was for my personal enjoyment, for my joy, for my rest. It was always about how to squeeze more work and output out of me.like this sewing machine thing
And once money entered the picture? He’d sniff it out like a bloodhound. Rent is due. School fees. Foodstuff. Generator fuel. He’d suck me dry in the name of family responsibility. Meanwhile, his private chats were full of cash transfers to women. Sums that I never received from him and I never even dreamed he had as free cash to dash woman. All the while, I was rationing money and telling my kids “Daddy and I can’t afford that right now.” One kobo I never saw from his hand except to buy “sewing machines” and pots and pans.
That madness ended the day I opened my eyes.
Not every man is like this, but if your man is always gifting you things that benefit everyone but you, general purpose items that increase your manual labor, that leave you with nothing but exhaustion while he collects the profits—news flash: that’s not love. That’s exploitation wrapped in ribbon.
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