My special Ramadan blues

I walked into the sitting room and saw my niece, Hauwa, so deep in concentration that she didn’t even know I had entered. ‘This must be an interesting mail you are reading’ I said to her as soon as I stood right next to where she sat. ‘You didn’t even hear me walk in.’ I said.
‘No Aunty, the message itself isn’t really that interesting. But I’m amazed at how happy some women are to share these Ramadan recipes when they are of no benefit to lots of others.’ Hauwa replied.
‘You mean because things are so expensive and majority cannot afford the delicacies listed there?’ I asked, reaching over to hug her. ‘Why didn’t you just come straight into my room? I was surprised to see you here when Cook said I had a visitor. I thought you were some stranger.’ I observed.
‘Forgive me Aunty Bint. I hope you and the family are fine. You see I was about to step in here when this WhatsApp message came in. I was intrigued by the title and the name of the sender. That was why I decided to sit and read it while Cook lets you know am here. I’m sorry I didnt  spare you the trouble of leaving  your bedroom.’ She apologised.
‘No problem, I needed to come out really. It’s just that I didnt want you to be so formal. I want you to always feel at home. How is your husband ans my twin grand kids? I asked.
‘They are all fine alhamdulillah. Maybe he is on his way home from work right now. You see Abba is the reason I am showing so much interest in this so-called special Ramadan menu. Some women’s group took the trouble to create a variety of dishes for the whole 29 or 30 days of the fast. And some wives can really achieve this because its a huge relief to have it all sorted out for you but I’m not one of them. I can’t benefit from this.’ She lamented.
‘You mean your husband will not give you the money to buy all you need to achieve this menu?’ I asked.
‘No Aunty, its more like I can’t cook anything on this 30-day menu because he won’t eat it.’ She replied.
‘You mean he’s on a special diet? Poor Abba, what is he suffering from?’ I asked worriedly.
‘Nothing other than his idiosyncracies. He started out with no snacks, because thy are kids’ stuff and not healthy.  So you see I can’t serve him. Samosa and spring rolls or Shawarma. Then he couldn’t eat beef because red meat isn’t healthy, so I have to cook only chicken. But even then it has to be local chicken because agric chicken isn’t healthy. And I can only roast or grill it because frying is too oily. For the same reason he can’t eat chips and eggs. And he can’t eat kosai or moimoi because beans doesn’t agree with him. I can’t serve kunun gyada because he is allergic to groundnut. Additionally, he can’t eat any fish I bought in this town because it is artifical fish, that’s his name for agric fish. Even fruit salad can’t be served because nature never intended all fruits to be eaten together, he can only eat one fruit at a time. In fact, whenever Ramadan comes I’m sure I develop extra gray hair because of worrying about what to cook that will not be rejected. I really envy those women who are free to serve what they want because their men welcome everything.’ Hauwa concluded.
‘But look on the bright side Hauwa. This means much less work for you. At least that’s what it seems to me. I mean some women have to do all those other things, everyday for a month. But here you are with a husband who does not want all that trouble. You should be happy.’ I urged.
‘The catch is, in spite of not eating so many of the things that normal men eat, he still wants variety. And that means having to crack my brain every day to think of something new and tasty but one that he will accept as healthy. The only concession he makes is when we have iftar guests, for their sake he will say make kunu, kosai, chips and eggs and even the occasional grilled fish. But when he is alone, I am back to my ordeal. Though he is like that even on normal months, it’s easier to manage him at such times because he sometimes eats heavy meals and that creates variety.  But in Ramadan he doesn’t eat anything heavy, which means my choices are further limited.’ Hauwa said dejectedly.
‘You know what, if I were you I will sit him down so we can create the menu together. That way you know that whatever you cook will automatically meet his approval.’ I advised.
‘That’s another thing Aunty Bint. He insists that it’s my duty to think up what to cook. That he shouldn’t be guiding me every step of the way.’ Hauwa disclosed
‘But he’s already guiding you each step of the way with his long list of don’ts. He should stop deluding himself and accept that he is a nightmare husband, period. First he tells you he doesn’t eat half the things that normal people eat. Then he insists he needs variety and then he won’t tell you precisely what he wants but expects you to magically come up with something suitable. Well take this from me dear niece you have really tried living with an exacting man like that. And from now on go to him with pen and paper and ask him to tell you exactly what he wants to eat every night at iftar. Draw up a whole week’s menu with his approval, then use it as a guide throughout the month of Ramadan. If you don’t do that I don’t know how many Ramadan blessings you will lose because you have channelled all your energy to planning his meals and worrying about him rejecting them. In the three years you’ve been married, I have no idea this  is what you’ve been going through but believe me its time you bring this nightmare to an end. You must never allow him to subject you to such Ramadan blues again. You have to find time for your other devotions.’ I instructed.
‘Yes, you are right Aunty Bint.  This year I will definitely liberate myself by insisting on a menu we can both agree on. Thanks so much dear Aunt.’ She said, smiling broadly as she rose to leave.