Excerpt from my novel FATE. 

 

                                                        Hard to Be a Woman 

 
                                 
As for the women in the village, they saw the mood changes taking place in their menfolk when they could not go to sea. Women, often with limited influence both within and beyond their cottages, would turn to prayer for solace and comfort, allowing them to voice their hopes, fears, and desires. It was where they felt they had their say, and besides, it was what they did best at times, when prayer served as a vital outlet for their emotions and aspirations.
      
Praying for the intervention of a Divine to direct nature itself, so human nature could benefit from a Divine Nature so they could work in nature.
      
If the women prayed, no doubt God Himself was listening, and the men were quite happy to leave that responsibility to the women. Siding with the compassionate forces of God is undoubtedly more advantageous than siding with the malevolent influence of Lucifer, who would be biding his time for an opportunity to assert his power. And that too was always debated in the Men-Only bar, with the unfortunate undertaker being put through the wringer as being suspect in having answers … because he was closer to Death than any other walking man in the village.
      
But hope and silent prayers are what kept the women buoyant.
      
Hard to be a woman.
      
The women would pray with all their will in the expectancy that the weather would break sooner rather than later, so their menfolk could go to sea. The weather served as a crucial backdrop in maintaining harmony between husbands and wives during prolonged periods of their men being on shore. It could either foster a sense of unity or exacerbate tensions between spouses. Coupled indoors, frustrations might surface more readily in a small cottage, with children running hyper, sensing the mood swings between adults, with some being scared into thinking that the bogeyman would come knocking at the door if they did not keep quiet.
      
Hard to be a woman.
      
Women are apprehensive creatures by nature, just like most women would be when their menfolk go to sea for long periods. This instinctive wariness can be attributed to a variety of factors. The inherent dangers associated with life at sea, the uncertainty of their husband’s safety, the emotional strain of everlasting separation in death, and having to rear the children on their own. Also, the absence of regular communication during such extended periods at sea can exacerbate feelings of isolation and worry, as women may find their minds running away with their worst fears when on their own.
      
Hard to be a woman.
      
It was a complex interplay of love that may not have been spoken about in a long time, and the instinctual desire to protect those they held dear. They loathed it even more when their menfolk were ashore for longer spells due to the weather or an ailment, but they knew it was a more callous attitude to try to change their men and their ways. Men who face the dangers of the sea and their family commitments are put to the daily test once they wake up to face another day. Some women tried. But they knew how dangerous it was to be a whaler, and how lonely it was to be a whaler’s widow. They endured it all in silence as part of their fate and God’s will. Otherwise, what to do?
      
It was hard to be a woman.
      
Everything regarding the family fell to the women. They were strong and self-sufficient. These women of the whaling village managed alone in keeping the family together when their menfolk were at sea, acting as decision-makers and carers of children, goats, hens, and maybe a milking cow, and some women had the extra burden of a widowed parent to care for. When the women were not mending nets, collecting shellfish or seaweed along the shore, or processing the catches from the fishing boats when they returned, it was all done while trying to keep kids fed with scarce cash in circulation. It was a daily juggling situation in any household, always left to the woman of the house, bean an tí, to do the necessary, even when the men were on shore.
      
Men had other worries on their minds.
      
On a good day, Brewis, which was made up of stockfish and hard soda bread, and if luck were to come knocking, salted pork, was bought with cash or bartered from the local midwife, who bred and butchered domestic pigs alongside her other unsavory activities.
      
That's another story to be told later.
      
Brewis could be relied on to keep hunger down, but trying to keep a roof over their heads was always challenging for everyone. It’s not that they had mortgages to pay off, because the majority of the cottages were passed down in families from father to eldest son.
      
But it was hard to be a woman.
      
It was all about keeping the family together under one roof, which brought stress levels up between husband and wife. Couples who might have started married life out in a love relationship were the rare few you could count on one hand. Rarely would 'love' last until death-do-you-part in any relationship that had more to endure when rearing a family in a whaling village where superstitions could still have a say, with a Jinx of Retribution running around. And God Himself would have a say if He wanted to take a child or two. Reaching old age together as husband and wife was a miracle in itself.
      
As time progresses in a relationship, an increasing number of couples find themselves struggling to maintain the deep emotional connection that initially characterized their relationship. The passionate love that once flourished, if it was there, often declined, leading to a situation where partners began to rely on a more superficial understanding of companionship and God Himself. When a marriage resembles an unspoken agreement, where physical presence and shared responsibilities take precedence over genuine emotional intimacy ... that’s when Lucifer will show himself.
      
It was hard to be a woman.
      
Many couples clung to the hope that the spark of love would reignite, yet they often discovered that the complexities of life and the passage of time had dulled the vibrancy of their initial feelings, and it was bye-bye love, dissolving into a mere coexistence marked by routine relations rather than the heartfelt connection that once defined their bond. If the truth were to be disclosed in the open, in all its ugly nakedness, that most men and women were providing for their future by keeping loneliness at arm’s length by getting married, there might be a better understanding between couples where pride could stand in the way of love.
      
Should the reality be told.
      
However, when the accepted myths of a relationship backfired, and the proven reality of marriage showed its face, the ability for love, in any of its many disguises, was hard to come by. Men and women were then at a total loss for how to navigate their way through their sentiments. But few couples would talk about their first feelings for each other after getting married, in doing what everybody else did, in having children. So … they got married for the sake of having that companionship in life. Love or no love.
      
It was what was expected of them if they did not want to be scrutinized in local gossip as being abnormal. But if a man decided to live as a bachelor, it was often viewed with unspoken envy by other men in the village. If a woman ended up in her lifetime as a spinster, and not by her own choosing, it was typically met with sympathy from other women, and by some with jealousy.
      
It was hard to be a woman.
      
Some marriages could, and some did with hindsight, evolve into a day-by-day tolerable partnership 'for the sake of the children'. Just like their parents, and their parents before them, they had to tolerate their humanness within a relationship where survival, in its true meaning, was put to the test every day. And so it was that couples waited for that deliverance until death-do-them-part made its choice on who was to die first.
      
And just like the sparrowhawk that hovers over her nest, where the not-so-foolish cuckoo, in its instinct for its young’s survival, has taken up occupancy with the sparrowhawk ... who is obliged by its very nature to feed the young cuckoo ... men and women enter into the bond of marriage in the same way. It came with its problems, but if a solution is found, it will likely create its own problems too.
      
Marriage was a blessing and a curse, and it all depended on God Himself … so the women would tell you.
      
Life was not so different from the life of a sparrowhawk and a cuckoo for a man and a woman.
      
Hard to be a woman.

   

                               

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