Magreth Nunuhe
Eto, I can’t believe the year is over and I have done fokkol with my resolutions for 2014. But I am sure I am not alone and that gives me a little bit of comfort – you know misery loves company mos. With the remainder of 12 days left before we jump into a new year, there is really very little I can do, because even if I wanted to do some soul searching, there is nobody on Facebook to share my thoughts with; they are all gone ko sea.
I can imagine how they are chopping the life there; cooler box out, cold 061s, dark shades to watch the swimmers in their bikinis and Speedos hoping they don’t get caught by their better halves salivating over other people’s kamborotos.
Please don’t ask me to join Skype, WhatsApp or whatever other social sites there are because I don’t have a smartphone and it’s not like I am going to buy one any time soon. Is it not enough that MTC is chowing our N$2 left and right with their kamastige data blunders, bundles, whatever. We have been doing just fine with the way things were.
Now you get woken up by an SMS at 01h00 in the morning hoping that a faraway relative e-walleted you some nyuku or your bank accidentally deposited moola into your account. Is MTC doing this on purpose because our minds have switched off and we are in holiday mood, po?
Nee man, we also care about our cheap change because you know what happens in Janu-worry month, togoba.
I was hoping we would end this year on a high note and step away from all the horrible things that clouded our first quarter of the year, where women were being killed like wild animals and babies were being dumped in Shoprite plastic bags. That was until the last episode this week of a woman who torched herself, kama over a boyfriend.
Eina! Who does that? They say we should never judge others until we have walked in their shoes, but Kalunga kange, this is the most bizarre method of committing suicide I have ever heard about. Most of us only know of the conventional ways people kill themselves, such as hanging themselves on a tree with a rope, jumping from a bridge, drinking hordes of Dispirin tablets or shooting themselves.
Needless to say, I feel very sorry for her and I hope the burns were not so severe and she will recover speedily.
But on the brighter side of things, domestic workers got a minimum wage (N$7.02 per hour), even higher than security guards who only get N$5.30 per hour. Omake, omake!
Now, we can hopefully get the crème de la crème of domestic helpers who are really interested in taking care of children and the home, unlike the Ugandan nanny who was thrown in jail for four years after a chilling discovery on a video that she was mercilessly beating up a helpless child.
Being a domestic is a hard job and I take my head off for those who diligently take care of others’ offspring with love and care. But some of you nannies are also to blame for the disastrous things you do that make a well-to-do mother become regretful they ever conceived a child. When you work at the laanies, you respect your job and know your place, but when you work for darkies, you hear things like the nanny was seen parading at Herero Mall with your expensive Burberry outfit you just bought last week.
Or the nanny gets preggies and when you ask her who the father of the child is she doesn’t know until you are the last to find out that all along she has been getting cozy with your hubbie on the deep end of the xamadulas.
With that I say bye, bye 2014. I hope I have made this column worth your while this year, but if not, Sorry Ngo!
mnunuhe@gmail.com