Aurora
"Aurora, you certainly took your time coming into the office today. What's your excuse? Please indulge me," my MD's voice echoed in the room.
But I couldn't utter a word. I was dumbfounded, lost in thoughts about my journey to this point in my career. I reminisced about growing up as an only child for fifteen years until my mom gave birth to twins, a girl and a boy.
Their arrival not only changed my life but also altered how my parents perceived me. I was no longer their precious daughter; I was simply their first daughter. In a Nigerian household, being the eldest child, whether a boy or a girl, came with immense responsibilities. I had to mature quickly.
My days were consumed by chores, endless chores. It was either helping my mom prepare breakfast for the twins before school or bathing and dressing them before my mom woke up. I'd return from school to a sink overflowing with dirty dishes, reminiscent of what you'd find in a bustling eatery.
My life revolved around mommy duties, and my dad offered no assistance. He merely issued orders, expecting everyone, including my mom, to comply.
I hoped university would offer respite from the chores, but my dreams were shattered when my father announced I'd attend the state university and commute from home. His reasoning? "Who will help your mother? Who do you think will do all your work? Certainly not me."
I cried for weeks, resenting my father's traditional mindset. I argued, begged for a house help, or pleaded for relatives to assist, but my father refused.
The cycle of mummy duties persisted until I completed university and ventured to a distant state for youth service, beyond my father's influence. When a job offer arrived post-service, I seized it eagerly, despite the modest pay and below-par qualifications. I was determined to escape the domestic burdens and aimed for the business manager role, which I eventually attained.
Yet, today might mark the day I regretted nine years of toil, sleep deprivation, social isolation, and absence of meaningful relationships. My decision to bury myself in office work instead of household chores might not yield the happy ending I envisioned.
However, I wasn't one to sulk or fear challenges. This situation shouldn't even qualify as a challenge. So, I cleared my throat and addressed my MD directly, though I could sense another pair of eyes piercing into my soul.
