Skip to main content

A FRUSTRATED HUSBAND'S REPLY


Dear Friend, (And I call you this in the strictest sense of the term)

I am in receipt of your well worded letter and I have to admit that you still have that knack for stinging words. In your discourse you come out as suave, complicated and feminist. The people who don’t know you and read your letter can also discern a strong feeling of awareness of your gender identity, coloured by your professional background, pedigree breeding and maybe social position.
You blame me for all manner of ills from my drinking habits, my toilet eccentrics and insinuate strongly that Iam a useless do nothing not even aware of the schools my daughters attend.
You however conveniently forget that you indeed have a share of the blame for the path am now taking- sharing the blame in a big way because in no small measure you have contributed to it.

You remember when we started, 15 years back, the days when I was young tall and handsome. You were then at university, fresh from the village, shy unsophisticated, loving and well ...slim? Those were the good days; you remember heartily joining me in our Friday evening joists-partaking nyama-choma and enjoying the full support of my three best friends then Nyundo, Komeo and Kipenga and still my best friends. You remember how you were so close to my sister Ruth? You remember the 14 year old Alfasud saloon? The one you had baptised-Mpenzi-The lover? You recall my favourite drink? And my occasional blackouts?
You accepted all this and  wormed your way into this circle of friends, winning over my relatives –particularly my sister –Ruth- whom you had cunningly identified to be most important  seconder for your corner.
Out of the goodness of my heart, I accepted you; I could have left you then as periodically the Jezebel in you sprang out. When I attempted to walk out, Ruth stopped me with a look, My friends stood up to me for you; I stood d by you and you took advantage of me-having the predatory instinct of animals, you had pre- prepared plans to counter my habits and my beloved relatives and friends.
And you won.

The wedding photos attest to this- You look dashing and happy – having won the race…I look shell shocked disbelieving-suffering from PTSD- PRE traumatic stress disorder.
You remember, how through one of my many friends and drinking partners, I fixed you a job. Coming especially after the many failed ventures you had attempted in setting up businesses. I stood by you- a permanent safety net-absorbing your stresses and perennially a ready shoulder to cry on.
And I was still there when you sent the house helps packing in their Dozens- They could never do anything good to your satisfaction. I tried reasoning out with you – you turned rabid on me heaping unfounded accusations on my sexual relations with the maids.

And as your career openings improved , You also  opened other war fronts in your social circles starting  against my friends and my relatives including of all  people my sister  Ruth. And you did not even attempt to be subtle about it, it was double barreled and at point blank distance and worse in my presence.
 The final straw was during your chama meetings when I came in late after a breakdown. You literally jumped on to me, with your chama friends watching. Your lips were dripping profanity, tearing me to pieces, and lumping my relatives and friends in the bargain. And you talked, No you shouted. The neighbours merely watched-No surprise in store, they were used to it. Your Chama friends gawked, our daughters looked lost.  You pursued the slaughterhouse line, thinking you were winning- well you did but only for an instant in the sprint. You forgot that Marriage is a marathon and short dashes rarely make a big change in a marathon race.

The other name for love is sacrifice- I have sacrificed for you.

You orally castrated your husband and robbed him of solitude in his own house without providing him with any companionship.
You deem it fit that I walk away…Indeed I will do so … literally, one foot after another until out of your life but you forget that institutions outlast individuals and unlike you  as a man I remain always  an institution...
Maybe mankind should adopt the sex life of the spiders-they have a tumble -she bites his head off…

Your Friend,
Zack


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Musings of a Close Protection officer

It had been too good to last; We (I and 5 others) had been diligently performing our close protection duties to our principal.  until early in October when we got the short, succinct directive that we had been redeployed from the very important Persons (VIP) Protection wing to the less savoury general duties section (GD). GD for police work is a calling without a job description; everything goes almost like that of a domestic house worker…but then I’m digressing. The redeployment signal also indicated that I was to report to my new workstation which was at Kondele Police Station in the politically restive city of Kisumu. For some violent reason, Kondele has been nicknamed “Republic”; It is a tough neighborhood and the youth there are said to be extra tough. Their muscles have muscles. It was too good to last; but then it had been a good break. After having been headhunted from GD duties, spruced up, retrained and finally deployed as a bodyguard for the top principal. The fac...
Post a Comment
Read more

I AM THE NATIONAL HANGMAN

I, a journalist, was privileged to have a one-on-one session with the official national hangman of a country in the southern parts of Africa. The government in question has a long British colonial history and has been appearing in the international press for all the wrong reasons. The interview session was held at the maximum security jail; as expected, the condition of the prison is colonial derelict and, with minimum maintenance over the years, now casts a sad look. Every building in the expansive vicinity is roofed with corrugated iron and in various advanced stages of rusty erosion. The central prison is encircled by a 9-foot-tall wall with various guard towers at intervals. The prison cantonment is set far from town in an undulating tropical rainforest with massive acreage where the inmates spend their hours tilling the land under the watchful guard of armed warders.   It is a dead place, and any visitor, like me, could sense the claustrophobic feeling and some noisome c...
Post a Comment
Read more

SEEKING BALANCE-EMBRACING HARMONY

  THE ORIENT PHILOSOPHY It is very likely that you who are reading this will not cross into the next century. This sentence maybe processed in any manner of ways by different people; many will process it with shock and a few others with stoic indifference depending of course on the personalities, situation, age, state of health, occupation, culture, and gender and so on.  Strictly speaking though, the presented information should not matter much, because the journey is the destination after all. But then hope springs eternal. A recent scientific journal points out that the person who is likely to live well into the next century and depart aged at about 150 years is already born and up and about. It is also likely that this person may have been born in the orient and is presently being schooled in the oriental way of thinking and living. Why the orient?  There are many varieties of Eastern thought: Hinduism, Buddhism, Confucianism, and Taoism among others. Their comm...
Post a Comment
Read more