So, the other day, I was privileged to eat a plate of rice and stew garnished with 2-days old beans at a kind person’s house. It had to be one of the most sumptuous meals that I’ve had in days. The grain of rice mixed in a debris-like manner with the fried tomato paste stew inside my mouth as I masticated, eyes closed and my thoughts no closer to heaven than it was to its pearly gates, was a feeling I would never forget.
Normally, I eat hurriedly when I’m hungry, but there was just this beauty to the meal that needed a momentary pause and slow motion effect. I felt more alive than I have ever been for days and that’s saying a lot for someone whose thoughts run amok every minute of the day, plotting schemes on how to propose to Linda Ikeji and inherit her Banana Island Mansion. Having said that all out in the open, I must say it was indeed a nice meal –deliciously mundane, nutritiously basal– but satisfying all the same.
But, it is not the meal or the taste of it or the reminiscent thought of the much better one I was missing and used to have at home besides my mother that got me to pen this down. No, it wasn’t that at all. Rather, what has gotten me to pen this down was what crossed my mind moments after I was done feasting. It was that moment was when I had courteously picked up my plate from the dinner table, and had proceeded to the kitchen sink to wash it. And as a washed I finally got to understand the true meaning of the saying, “you never know what you have until you’ve lost it”.
On that thought, I was immediately thrown back to a time before; a few months ago when washing plates and tidying up the kitchen had sorta, kinda being my forte. I remember how much I often felt disgusted by the filth in the kitchen and how marveled I later was at my bespoke tidying skills when I was done transforming it to its conducive décor of utensils’ and food stuffs.
Thoughts of those days almost brought tears to my eyes. I never would’ve thought that for once, after everything, one of the things I would miss would be doing the dishes for a full house. It never would’ve occurred to me that somehow, I had been blind to the fact that dirty dishes in the sink was quite synonymous to there being food in the house. Sadly, like every human being, the simple truths of life only became glaring after I had been overwhelmed by its impact.
So this is a tribute to all those who wash plates or do dishes or do any type of chore that at that very moment may often seem tedious and tiring. This is a post to encourage you to keep your head up. Wash as much as you can. Clean as much, and as good as you can. Because the simple truth is that as much as you seem to hate doing it now, believe me when I say, someday, even that hatred would surprisingly be something you’d miss.
Cheers to all the plates and spoons I’ve ever washed. I miss y’all.