Naturally, I write fiction and sometimes lace it with real life stories. This piece is however about me and my clownish act over the weekend.

I love my family and in this case, the healthy mix of people I live with which includes elder sister and two elder cousins. Now, that should automatically make me the youngest – the one who does the cleaning and cooking. Right?

Wrong.

We all love each other, and help as “the spirit” leads and so I don’t do the cooking by compulsion. I do it by choice and hence, when I get my “calling”, I make basic meals such as rice, chicken stew, egg, and dodo. And if my interest gets intense, I may cook vegetable stew, jollof rice etc.

But this weekend was different, I got inspired by something else; football. Don’t blame me; I somehow got a “gist” that guys prefer to watch football outside their house with their friends and also like pepper-soup while watching. Therefore, to keep your man in the house, try cooking pepper -soup on those weekends.

I’m yet to know why I believed that. I’m not married and don’t need to keep anybody at home but it suddenly felt like a married woman that doesn’t cook pepper-soup is lacking in duties. We had a brief argument over it and I told my friend that I do not cook pepper-soup. Her only advice was I’d better learn in advance, if I intend to get married.

By that time, it was 4:45pm. I got up and went to the market, to buy ingredients for pepper -soup. I only have Sundays to myself, and postponing such an event to another weekend was only cramping my next free day. I stopped at the first stall and asked a lady that sells tomatoes, “Where can I buy ingredients for pepper- soup”. She stopped was she was doing and looked at me properly; “Did you say pepper- soup?” she asked. I replied. “Yes”. She smiled and pointed to another stall, “Go to that woman, she sells the ingredients”.