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| Illustration: Didier Millotte |
“When I grow up, I want to be a housekeeper.”
That is what I used to say as a teenager. Not that it was my dream. But as a homebody, I wished to have a career that would keep me indoors. Deep in my heart, I dreamed of being a writer, but I would not dare to say it aloud, because I thought being a writer was not a real job.
Often what we say is what we end up doing. Some years later, I did become a housekeeper in a guest house. I have sweet memories from those days such as the chicken with mushrooms dish for which I received applause. Despite these experiences, my secret dream came back with full force founded on a new motivation: serving God through literature.
Often what we say is what we end up doing. Some years later, I did become a housekeeper in a guest house. I have sweet memories from those days such as the chicken with mushrooms dish for which I received applause. Despite these experiences, my secret dream came back with full force founded on a new motivation: serving God through literature.
One catch though: I was 24.
Because of this, my relatives were persuading me to think about marriage. In addition, myfather had spent a great deal of money for my hotel training. He rightly expected his
investment would provide me with adequate work to support myself .
Given these realities, I thought, “Wouldn’t it be selfish of me to drop everything and go back
to school?” I prayed, asking God for assurance. Finally, I resigned and enrolled at the Faculty of Arts. Then came the flood of criticisms: “You will be too proud to be a good wife! You just want to boast with more degrees.”
