Juggling eight balls

Back in the day when I was growing up in the high density suburbs of Bulawayo in New lobengula to be exact. We used to believe that there was a soccer star who could easily juggle eight ball at once. Being a young street soccer player myself, I  mastered the plastic ball, "Umphepha". I could imagine Joel Shambo juggling eight balls at once and thought that would be a great talent. Despite the fact that the former Zimbabwe national team mid fielder and Caps United captain, also nicknamed "the headmaster" was a truly talented man. Arguable one of Zimbabwe 's greatest midfielders Shambo could not have been able to juggle eight balls at once. It was just a false story that boys passes around, just like saying that former Brazilian soccer star Pele struck and killed him brother with a soccer ball shot!

Far from the myth and tales of football, I sometimes feel like I am juggling eight balls these days. Always on crazy schedule be it at work or at home. I sometimes tell people that I am more busier at home than at work. Need less to mention that I have busy work schedule, that requires both my physical fitness and mental alertness. I work and average of sixty hour a week, which means most of the time I leave at sunrise and get home at sunset. To have a successful and productive day I have to be well rested the previous night and charged up for the next morning. I must have my game face on! Apart from maintenance, my job requires driving and sales and demonstrations. I drive from one end of town to another. I am a face of the company and my office is people's homes.

Coming home after a hectic day, I am greeted at the door by two wonderful guys who are fully charged up. Themba and Ayanda. Surely they missed me and I missed them too but the problem is that this is just the beginning of another shift. Their mother who works overnight is ready to take nap, and she unceremoniously leaves for the bedroom so that she can get every minute of Zzz! The other day I was so tired that when I got home I could hardly keep my eyes open. I went to the bedroom intending to perform a routine daily shift change, which is I ask her if she had a good day and what time she want to wake up. Or if the kids are fed for the evening, and simply things of that nature. She sometimes ask me to dry her work clothes and get them ready for her because she normally does not have that much time before she live for work. I try to help her in as much as I can. She does that for me too. Since we do not have a baby sitter, we have to do it all ourselves and do the best we can.

The idea of having someone else watch our kids never well with both of us. Its one of the few things we totally agree on, thank God. However, we have to pay the price. Maybe the price is worth the prize! So I went there intending to do a routine shift change but I was too sleepy, so I laid next to her on the bed with my work clothes on. Apparently she was reading as usual. She reads a lot. Yes she does. She can finish a book in two days. I have never seen anybody who reads book like that. Mostly romance books. Being sleepy as I was, little did not know that she was reading a certain marriage book. She had just bought it couple of days prior. The book had a questioner section, whereby one has asks they spouse some questions and so on. She started asking me questions on that page, I answered but I told her that was so tired and could use a few minute's nap. She obviously did not buy into that, she continued asking me more questions, and I was gradually dozing. My answers started showing that I was half asleep, but as a good man trying to please his wife I struggled to stay awake but mother nature was too strong.

I probably did not answer the last question and this attracted her fury, and she banged the door twice and left the room in protest of me not listening to her. I was awakened by the loud noise. "Oh my God , I got myself in trouble as usual" I consider myself a brave man but not against women. I have a terrible fear of that that race. Eve's race! How in the world can I fall asleep when I am supposed to receive a such an important lecture? Not just on any subject but on "Christian  marriage", I must be doomed. I thought to myself! I would have thought that she was going to understand at least that I work long hours. That "excuse" did not work. "You mean you can not give me fifteen minutes of your time? She lambasted me. To this day she has not forgiven me for that. I ruined an important quite time lecture! I think man, and women behave differently under the same conditions or circumstances, no matter how you can try to make sense of it. God made us differently, and its one thing we must learn to accept and move on.

I have a lot on my plate in this house, grass , errands, cooking, cleaning and dishes. Sometimes the house literally look like a war zone, because my youngest Ayanda boy does not want to see any form of order. He runs amok and teaks anything that is organized. Themba is messy too , but he is far much better. Older kids Jessica and Alex are on another level. They can literally walk on debris in their rooms without a problem. It does not register whatsoever that they might be in danger of living in trash. Being the bad one, I have to constantly stay on top of the situation to make sure they live in a presentable place. I bother them a lot. That does not come without a price. I have seen their facial expressions many times, when ever I tell them to clean their rooms. I am not talking about cleaning their dishes, or sweeping the kitchen. No, ugly wars have been fought over that and evidently I am the biggest loser.

There are good and bad things about America like any other country. Kids here take thing for granted. They do not appreciate. The culture of hard work has long vanished. That is a shame. We live in the microwave age. Instant results. No hard work , no sweat. A friend once taught that there are three laws of harvest, you reap what you saw, you reap later than you saw, you reap more than you saw. I do it all with great pleasure. Hard work is in my blood. My late grandfather Jeremiah Ndlovu, told a long time a go that hard work does not kill. "Umsebenzi awubulali mtanomtami" He said. Many times he was accused of witchcraft by other villagers because his crops always came out well. He told me that while they chasing beers, and other pleasure, he was busy in his fields, preparing the land. As soon as the rains hit the ground he was the first to plant. But to his peers, he was using witchcraft to achieve that kind of success.