He takes you to be his only one. Wait, can he do that? Can a man promise fidelity? More importantly, can he keep that promise? And would you like such a promise to be made to you and to be kept like one’s life depended on it?
I hate broken promises. BUT I can handle them. I like people who keep their word, not to say that I have never had to deal with those who don’t. When you say that I am the one you love, I better be the only one you love. I will however not burn down your house, stalk you, call your mother, nor will I douse you in paraffin and set you ablaze should you not reciprocate my love for you. If we enter into an exclusive relationship, and should you decide along the way that I no longer tickle your fancy, I expect you to have the decency to let me know of this new development and thereby, give me the chance to make an informed decision concerning my future with(out) you.
I am your typical woman; she who loves jealously. She who expects love to be said, proved, showed. I share stuff; jewelry, clothes, food. I borrow stuff too; books, VCDs, shoes. But in the same way that I don’t borrow other women’s men, I don’t share mine either.
I don’t, can’t. WILL NOT share my man.
If I am faithfully yours, then I expect you to be faithfully mine. Either that, or we have a problem. This problem will have to be solved one way or another. Seeking a solution to the problem will involve you getting your act together, or me seeking the exit door. I just believe that life is easier (and safer really) that way.
These are some of the values I have held onto ever since I entered my first relationship. I don’t believe that I am the meanest person to walk the face of the earth. I most possibly could be, but I don’t believe so.
This conversation started at the Storymoja Ideagasm this past Saturday. We were discussing “Who is Writing our History” and it lead us systematically to issues infidelity. You don’t know how these things happen, they just do. My stand on relationships and infidelity was considered ‘standard’ and I was blown.
I am not the kind of woman who has no problem sharing his man with another woman. I know that I will get emotional and jealous and I might try to scratch the other woman’s face to make it unsightly. (She better be pretty – ier because it is kind to upgrade). Downgrading will just make me look bad. And I don’t like to look bad.
I look for the exit door when infidelity knocks. She enters as I leave. I can’t face her. I have grown up afraid to look infidelity in the face, and so I always let her see my back as I leave. I never confront her because I know that she has the ability to hurt ever so deeply.
I fully understand that I can only control my reaction to certain situations that I find myself in. I cannot make a man love me when he would rather not. I also expect the same man not to expect me to love him, and stay put while he loves another woman. In my books, you can love two or a hella lot of people at the same time, but you cannot be in love with more than one person at the same time.
Why do I want to be loved faithfully? Is it because I witnessed the negative effects of infidelity during my childhood and I forever sympathized with the ’cheatee’? Most probably. Could it be because, as someone pointed out during the ideagasm, I come from a family with a majority of girls and therefore my sentiments are wonted from such a family set up? Could be.
But then again, I ask myself why another woman has no qualms sharing her man with another woman? Could it be because she is not really in love with him and therefore her emotions are not stirred enough for infidelity to cut and hurt? I don’t know. I truly believe that if love is present, then infidelity should hurt. So why is another man ready to forgive and be friends with a lady who cheats on him with his friend? Why is he readily willing to look past an affair and forge a friendship even after being put through a betrayal? Is it because he believes that she will come around some day? That she will come to realize that he loves her so much and reciprocate, eventually, the love that he holds for her? Will she ever? And if she doesn’t will he be willing to continue the friendship? Don’t look at me, I honestly have no answers.
Clearly, we don’t all perceive love in the same way, nor do we want the same thing from relationships. If I did not know it before, then the Storymoja Ideagasm drove the point home.
I therefore came to the conclusion that;
We all perceive infidelity differently. One person sees it as betrayal, while another sees it as the free will (that we are all entitled to) to love whomever we love and not to suppress our true feelings for fear of offending.
Infidelity in the strict physical, sexual sense being different from emotional infidelity will have some people preferring the former and other’s the latter. One man’s meat…
When it comes to love, you are better off doing what you feel is right for you as long as you find a likeminded person and let them know what your expectations of the relationship are.
And finally, relationships vary for the simple fact that we are all different people with different upbringings and different experiences. So to each his, her gonads really.
First Published on the Storymoja Festival Blog
The Storymoja Ideagasm this past weekend was one that left me thinking. As I boarded the ‘City Hopper’ bus heading towards Ngong road I had a lot of questions in my head.
I label myself a defender of women’s rights. A feminist. But who exactly am I fighting for? Do the people whose voice I claim to be, need my voice? Am I helping them or am I making their lives difficult? Or could it be that I am just helping myself?
I reached my destination close to 8pm in the evening. My family had all assembled at my sister’s house for dinner and all were wondering where I was. I explained that I had gone for a Storymoja thingy. ‘Thingy’ because you only give my mother a word like ‘Ideagasm’ when you have a couple of hours to kill explaining what you mean.
“Story moja huh? I will give you my story moja,” my mum promised me.
She honored her promise a few hours later after we had quenched our hunger and thirst. She started on a story about monsters who devoured some woman whose husband used to work far away in the city.
“Tell me about FGM.” She was leaning on folklore while I wanted the real stuff.
“FGM?” she asks
“Kalenjins practiced FGM right?”
“Sure! We practiced FGM.”
She then told me a story. Her Story moja.
Back in the day, when a girl was considered old enough for marriage, she was circumcised and yanked into (Ok, maybe they gently tossed her with sympathy given what she had just gone through) a hut where she was to live for some time as she was fed and healed. She was thereafter, ready for marriage
It was, however. not uncommon for a man to ask for a girl’s hand in marriage and even settle the bride price while she was still in seclusion – I guess demand was high with some girls? Seclusion could take anywhere from one month (which was ideally the time required for her wound to heal) to one year. ONE YEAR! My reaction to this was: “Ile ne?” which was the closest Kalenjin words I could come up with for “What the hell?!” A whole year!? January, February…the whole 12 months?!
My mother patiently waited for me to get a grip before going on.
Should a man come and ask for your hand in your absence, your parents only had to say yes to the cows and you would be his wife when you were well enough to be someone’s wife. After healing from the mutilation, you would pack your bags and go to a man your parents had ingeniously selected for you. You had to believe that they had your best interests at heart and did not just dispose you off to spend your lifetime with a jerk just because he offered the highest bid.
One year! Forgive me, but I am still stuck on the one year seclusion.
My mum then told me the story of this specific young girl who went through pretty much the same ordeal. While this girl was inside the ka-hut, healing the wounds in her nether regions, wondering all the while about her future with her husband and the many children she was going to bear him – what else could she ponder about anyway – a man came along and asked for her hand in marriage. She was to make a technical appearance during the negotiation of bride price. A deal was struck and from that moment, she was considered the young man’s wife. She was fed and fed some more. She grew healthier and healthier (the word I really want to use is ‘fatter’ and ‘fatter’) for her prospective husband.
While still serving her time, something happened to the young man who had been pronounced her husband not so long ago. He was arrested for cattle rustling. Hehe…I laughed hysterically at this point, don’t know why I found this so hilarious. Young girl in seclusion, young man arrested for cattle rustling. He was to serve 5 years in jail. The young girl waited (faithfully) for this man she barely knew to get out of jail and come and take his place in her life.
Thing is, cattle rustling was an ego booster and it put a stamp on one’s manhood in a big way. Having been arrested, the young man held a lot of clout in the community. Time went by and the young man’s mother, now living with the young girl – her daughter in law – realized that time was running out. The young man’s mother knew that being the ish, one wife was not going to do him any justice. She therefore did what any mother would do at the time. She mobilized a bunch of elders to betroth another woman as her incarcerated son’s second wife.
They visited a certain family, whose daughter she had eyed for a while, I don’t know…weird? They proceeded with the bride price negotiations. This other woman was to be circumcised as well, and so she served her time in seclusion having become the second wife to the jailbird.
“It was nothing really. This happened all the time.” My mum said. Men could ‘marry’ another wife while their (first) wife was still healing. It’s not like he needed the first wife’s approval or anything.
Suffice to say that when the young man eventually got out, he was presented with two very healthy (ahem!) wives. Voila!
jailbird man was my maternal grandfather (RIP), and the young woman who had a co-wife shoved down her throat was my grandmother. My grandfather later added another wife to make three and they all lived their happily ever after.
This story from my mother told in a jovial, carefree mood did not do much to quell my thoughts about the ideagasm we had had that afternoon. I wondered, did these women feel oppressed at all? Did they know any other way of life? If not, who then decided that things needed to change and why?
I frowned, gasped and almost popped my eyes out unbelievably as I listened. It did not make sense to me that a man would ‘stock up’ on women just because he had the means. And that the same women were like pawns in a man’s world.
I wondered. When we fight for women, when we protest against certain ‘injustices’ as we see them, are we still doing so for that woman who is ok with having a co-wife because she believes that men are naturally polygamous? Are we still fighting for that woman who looks forward to being battered by her husband because then it will mean that he loves her? When we insist on having our voices heard, does that voice include the voice of the woman who lives for BDSM? If we fight for all women alike aren’t we infringing on the rights of those who have taken the face of oppression and made it part of their identity? Are we denying some woman her right to a co-wife? To a black eye, which according to her is a medal of love? Her right to sexual
Still, I wonder.
First published on the Storymoja Festival Blog
We need to come up with a list. Yes! A list of excuses for the other man. You know, the man who cheats on his slim, fun, adventurous (perfect?) wife? It isn’t fair to provide excuses for the fat woman’s husband, and leave the other husbands hanging. This borders on discrimination, if you ask me.
The man with a fat wife is taken care of courtesy of the article written by Njoki Chege on why men cheat. He can now sit pretty, have his cake, eat it, and have another one. The missus might come up to him, all crushed, teary-eyed, asking “Honey, why would you cheat on me? What does she have that I don’t? Why would you do this to me after everything that we’ve been through? I’ve been there for you bla bla bla ….” Normally, he would be beside himself fumbling for words to explain away his despicable actions.
Oh, but not today!
Today, all he has to do is lift his heavy frame, protruding tummy and all (he’s been eating loads of cake, remember?) and walk briskly towards his special cabinet where he keeps his treasured reading material. He adds a spring to his step as he whistles the song;Guantanamera, guajira Guantanamera… Guan-tana-meeeera, guajira Guan-tana-mera… He will take out the key to the cabinet from a bunch in his pocket and open it. Slowly, without saying a word to the fat, sniffling wife standing in front of him, he will remove THE precious newspaper sitting atop some playboy magazine. He will grab the paper with both hands and give it a kiss. He will open the page with the words “LADIES: It’s all your fault that he is CHEATING!” scrolled across the page and he will give it another bigger, wetter kiss. They should get a room right? Smiling, he will hand it to his sobbing wife. “It’s all in there, dearie. The answers you seek are all in there” he will pat her on the back sympathetically; lips pursed, and leave her to it. She will read the article from beginning to end. She will stop asking questions. Her husband will go back to eating his cake. Having it. Gobbling it. Growing fat. Obese. Nobody cares if he is fat. No one will cheat on him because he is fat!
So things are cut out for that guy. Lucky bastard! What about the one with a slender, slim, beautiful, high-heel donning, gym-attending, fun-loving wife? What is he supposed to say when he is caught cheating? Who will speak for him when he is faced by his angry wife? Doesn’t he have a right to some excuses too? Well, I think he does! I think we should give him some material to hand his wife too. In all fairness people. In all fairness!
It’s not going to be easy though. This woman hits the gym on the regular, dresses to kill, loves to have fun. She is a busy career woman and has no time to nag or keep tabs on her husband. She gives you your space and you (unbelievably) get to do you! She will be a tough one to crack. What to do… what to do? There sure must be something about her that is not right. Think people. Think!
I suggest we make this as brutal an attack as the one we did on her ‘imperfect’ counterpart. Where we called the other woman fat, we will call this one skinny – a pack of bones, if you like. Where we said that she stuffs her face like a pig, we will say she is an irritating nitpicking nibbler. We will focus on her obsession with beauty and fashion. We will point out how superficial she is! She is so vain, we will insist. Like, who the hell does she think she is?
Let’s do this people. Let us accord the ‘perfect’ wife’s husband the same courtesy we so graciously granted the fat, boring, nagging wife’s husband, shall we?
LADIES: It’s all your fault that he is CHEATING!
- You are too thin. A man wants to hold some flesh when he touches you, not to outline your skeletal framework. African men like voluptuous women. A woman with a well rounded behind drives her man crazy, haven’t you heard? Sadly you don’t have that. Can you therefore blame him when he cheats? Here, wipe your tears and munch on this chicken drumstick.
- You make your man insecure with your good looks. When you walk down the street, men stare at you like you are still single, disregarding the ring on your finger. Men are waiting to pounce on you…you drive him to cheat.
- You don’t act like a married woman. You still insist on having fun. Always coming up with ideas on where you should go for holiday, for dinner every Wednesday? Why don’t you grow up and gain some sense of responsibility? Your children are in school, so think school fees! Think mortgage payments! Think retirement benefits! Having fun ended with singlehood so get with the program!
- You have too much to say about everything. You should chill a little. Let your man be the man, you know? Talk less. Let’s see you more and hear you less.
- You don’t even call him to check up on him when he is out with the boys?! Do you even care about this husband of yours? Other women nag, but you just don’t care! If he cheats on you, it is because he wants someone who needs him.
- Look at what you wear. Should we even go there? You don’t dress like a married woman! That dress is too short, for chrissake! Stop exposing your cleavage! And you wonder why he cheats on you? You embarrass him with your slutty dressing. What do you want to achieve? You want his friends to hit on you? You want to attract the attention of other men? You whore?! (Too harsh?)
- Ask yourself woman; what is he supposed to do when you are out there living your life like he doesn’t exist? Cheat? Well…
I believe that all bases are covered on matters infidelity, don’t you? Should any man feel left out probably because he is unsure where to categorize his wife – maybe she is slightly fat or slightly skinny – please understand that it was not our intention to make you feel that way. We however beg that you don’t despair. The bottom line to all these excuses is in this one statement:
‘He cheats on you because you are his wife’- Use that. Remember to milk it dry.
Now please pass this list urgently to any man out there who is married to the ‘perfect’ woman.
He will need it soon.
First Published on the Storymoja Festival Blog