It’s the festive season again…
Another year will soon bite the dust. And so, with the festive season on our doorsteps, I, like most people have a little excitement brewing inside. It’s that euphoric feeling of love, of family, of laughter, and just being. The anticipation of that moment of reconnection with loved ones, the warm familiar hugs, and laughter from tales told till dawn. I get a little choked up thinking about it. Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen my parents in a very long time. However, that fuzzy warm feeling is quickly replaced by my defiant streak as I ponder on the meaning of ‘the holiday’. I cannot speak for other cultures, but I can confidently say that for most Africans ‘holiday’ means going home, to one’s village of origin. A journey that entails traveling hundreds or thousands of kilometers just to see the smiles on the older generation momentarily forgotten because of the toils and hardships brought about by the blue-collar job life in the cities.
For the most part, in western culture, ‘holiday’ means a time of touring, exploring; just being away from home entirely. But it is without a doubt that for most cultures across the world, the festive season or Christmas and New Year holidays embody a similar meaning; that of a family reunion. Bearing that in mind, but with my thoughts still churning, and a little chuckle escaping my lips, I get lost in another universe. The quest to unearth the real meaning of the festive season for women. Those Kitchen Traditions. As a mother, I cook all the time. As a woman, patriarchy has decided that cooking is my role. As for me, being the artistic individual I am, cooking is something I do well. But that does not mean I want to do it all the time.
Christmas cooking in the village
It means bonding time with the matriarchs…
I could never be a chef, it’s too daunting a task and I envy people who cook for a living. Honestly speaking, I hate domestic chores. But, when we talk about holidays or the festive season, those words can never have true meaning without food as the infusion. Holidays are always associated with celebrations, and this is more true for the end of year holidays, hence the phrase ‘festive season. It is truly a festivity of endless feasting with an array of dishes on display. The tradition in my family is such that whenever I arrive at my hometown for Christmas, my mother, and aunt; both in old age, pass the cooking baton to me instantly. It is not done maliciously; rather, it’s an accolade. They pass the baton on proudly and also with a tinge of relief that finally, they get to sit back, relax and enjoy a meal prepared by hands other than theirs.
After literally a whole year of the monotonous, uninspired dishes and ingredients they concoct, they are truly happy to see a different pair of hands whipping up something in those old pots and pans they have been hoarding for years and refuse to get rid of. Talk about the vintage collection. The kitchen for my mother and I signifies something bigger than just a place for cooking. It’s our bonding space, the only opportunity we get to catch up; just the two of us. So, as I peel, slice, cut, dice, and stir, she is either by the sink washing the cutlery and juice glasses that magically reappear and keep piling up throughout the day. If not, she is seated by the old rickety wooden table marvelling at my cooking skills or pinching the diced raw veggies, her vegetarian pallet totally failing the gluttony test. I haven’t heard a complaint yet, but I am certain that our laughter gets carried far by the wind to the neighbours across the gravel road as we gossip and enjoy the simplicity of rural life.
Feeding the family at Christmas
And then the patriarchy rears its head…
But as beautiful as all that sounds, I can’t dismiss the niggling thought irritating my ever so overzealous feministic mind right now. You see, my mind keeps popping the question; when do I get to rest? When do I get to have a ‘real’ Christmas holiday? Is it still considered a holiday when I am still slaving away catering for the patriarchy stomachs? By I, I mean us, women, females, or the “other gender” as they refer to us these days. How are we on holiday when we still wake up on Christmas day before everyone else to prepare a scrumptious breakfast followed by the immediate peeling and prepping for the big lunch meal? No rest.
The funny thing is, as irritated and robbed of a holiday by this tradition as I may feel right now, given an opportunity, I don’t think I would change a thing. There is a high chance that I would complain till my dying day, but I would still continue doing it. I certainly would not want to be the Grinch; the one wiping away the smiles of ‘palate satisfaction’ from my children, my mother, and other family members present. Their tongues licking their lips in delicacy pleasure does something to me. It unearths that warm fuzzy feeling from the pit of my stomach, and I don’t want to lose it.
Women are inevitably expected to cook for the whole family
And so…
Their happiness is my addiction I have come to concede. It is how I have been socialized, raised, cultured, brainwashed, and been convinced that ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’. So even I, as strong as my feministic views are, find myself bowing and still catering to patriarchy. Not because I am commanded to, but because the act brings pleasure to my soul. Patriarchy has indeed successfully tricked me by soothing and massaging my ego into believing that only I can make that meal befitting to be called the Christmas meal. I can honestly say, cooking during the festive season is a selfish act for me, contrary to the meaning of Christmas. I am, after all, catering to my bruised ego, that, of not being appreciated. And yes, I am cooking this Christmas!
a good thing for one to feel the need to address social ills, especially those related to Gender based violence. A lot of this scourge was and still is initiated and sustained by our social norms (e.g. the man is the provider), which the victims themselves have internalised and taken as given.” Activists” are quick to apportion blame on perpetrators at the expense of not enlightening the victims of the active role they played in the development and sustenance of such violence. Indeed if we could instil feminist values into our girl’s minds we would not have a gender violence surge to speak of, and indeed if we could have living and breathing role models of feminism, a lot of young people both male and female would shun this idea of oppressing one gender by the other.
A lot of females find themselves in distressing relationships because of the choices they made and indeed the lack of ambition from a young age. It is common and acceptable (especially by mothers) to find a female of any developmental stage and age whose ambition and goal in life is to BE A WIFE & A MOTHER. In this case they disregard the financial implications of being a mother or even a wedding event, despite the fact that they would want all and sundry to know of their wedded bliss, by a so called “white wedding”. Such individuals relegate the duty of providing for themselves and their children in the future to their prospective husbands or boyfriends. It is for this reason that even girls who have the intellectual capacity to succeed in education and ultimately in the corporate world, defer or even abandon their educational endeavours. After deferring their educational quest, even if they eventually attain any higher learning qualification, they would not make an effort to join the job market because it does not fall within their ‘’assigned’’ activities in life. They would rather assume a domestic role, while the husband provides. This goes for the unmarried ladies too. Popular media is not helping the situation; we have shows like “The house wives of Johannesburg” e.t.c, which stereotypes the role of women in society as to only being pampered without putting any effort, except to lay down and spread their legs. This is also the reason why we have high rates of teenage pregnancy. The fairer sex is complicit in this; if a mother sees her daughter with a school boy or a man of below average means, she would scream for all to hear that ngwana wa diiwa. On the other hand if the same girl is seen being dropped off by an Amarok VW or any other fancy car, all is well and the girl or woman for that matter is encouraged to fall pregnant by the older women of her house hold. I hope I am not biased against mothers, but as a father, I know a great many if not all fathers, are not looking forward to their little girl getting married if they are still schooling or a young adult without their own means of support.
True and exemplary feminists need to up their game, be visible and educate the young girls that at times one cannot get out of an abusive relationship(including marriage) because such a union is the one that guarantees them three square meals in a day, clothes on their back and shelter. They should urge them to look forward to providing for their own selves, rather than be comfortable with being bought toiletries as a child and well into adulthood.
I acknowledge that we do have some shining examples of good role models like Ms Bogolo Kenewendo and many other empowered working married women, who were not taken lock-stock and barrel like children by their husbands, but chose to make their autonomy known by assuming double-barrel surnames. This might seem trivial to some, but rest assured that, only assertive and feministic women can keep their maiden surname in addition to their husbands after marriage. We should be seeing such women in the forefront of feminist activism: women who preach what they have lived and still live.