Exhaustion Diaries

I'd spent the last 42 hours at work, and as I stood on the sidewalk, I hailed an 'Olomore' cab. Oh God, that's like the 10th cab this morning. I'm burnt out, and a fainting spell is impending. My stomach hurts, and I desperately need to get home as soon as possible.

It's been four weeks since I was transferred to another branch at work, which happens to be the farthest from my home. I told myself I'd cope, and indeed, I'm coping, but this last week has been one of those weeks. Ramadan has started, and I'm well aware that I'm about to have another episode of severe hypoglycemia, but it didn't matter; I was determined to observe the fast.

I had two consecutive night shifts, and I thought it would be a waste of money to go back and forth after each shift, so I stayed back at work. It wasn't easy, especially with fasting, but I was determined. Normally, I make sure to clean before leaving my house so I can come back to a clean home, but I couldn't do that this time around. I barely had the energy to get out of bed that morning.

I eventually got a cab and heaved a sigh of relief as I hopped in with two heavy bags (I do not pack lightly😂). I ignored the misogynistic comments of the driver and a fellow passenger as they shamed a lady and called her 'Ashawo' just because she almost got hit by the vehicle. Oh, women, there's no winning this game.

Yesterday was International Women's Day, and I didn't remember until I resumed my shift officially at night. I made a mental note to make a post about it, and here we are. Initially, I had planned to write something different, but a lot has happened this morning.

I got to my place, and there it was – the mess I made before leaving the house, trying to pack this and that. I checked my account balance and sighed; I'd have to use my last bit of money to outsource cleaning and laundry because I could barely drag my feet inside. My nails had started growing, and I hate long nails, so I decided to clip them while putting a call across to the woman who helps me with laundry and cleaning. 'Clack clack' – I chipped my nails off as the phone rang.

She picked up on the second ring and sounded excited as we exchanged pleasantries. I hadn't reached out to her in a while because I'd been trying to be frugal and do everything myself. 'Aunty Tina, please come over to my place to help me tidy the house and wash my clothes,' I asked. She replied affirmatively.

Fortunately, she didn't end the call, and I was about to do so when I heard her husband say, 'Is that Aunty Nurse? She said yes, and he proceeded to say, 'Oga o, why will a woman outsource cleaning?' I ended the call after that statement. Little did he know that this woman had been at work for 42 hours, actively on duty for 32 hours, and was exhausted. Little did he know that this woman works hard so that she can afford to outsource these tasks. Little did he know that this is his wife's job, and she does it to support him.

I couldn't help but laugh at the irony. This is the reality of women everywhere.

To the women who are considered lazy because they refuse to clean and cook after being at work for hours, Happy International Women's Day.

To the women who choose to clean for a living, Happy International Women's Day.

To the women who choose not to work and are happy with cooking and cleaning, Happy International Women's Day.

To the women who choose not to work, clean, or cook, Happy International Women's Day.

No woman should be shamed for her choices, and that's what feminism is. Happy International Women's Day, my queens.

Love,

Adesewa.