Lessons to learn from polygamists

Edward Indakwa

Democracy and equitable sharing of resources have never been part of polygamous settings. Often times, the "I love my wives equally, we are one happy family" is always a sham, a public relations exercise.

For most polygamists, trouble begins when women start to squabble for love, attention and resources because many times, the "man of the houses" always favours one house over the others.

When such a man is a tough cookie, he manages – by a measure of native cunning, a bit of ‘divide and rule’ and force – to keep a lid on things until he expires. That’s when volcanoes erupt, machetes are drawn and court battles (over his corpse) are fought.

But for most men, battles erupt in their lifetime. The women fight physically, verbally, with juju and via proxy, through the children. Often, disgruntled or difficult wives leave or get thrown out.

Such a man, if he is smart, brings a brand new wife into the fold and showers her with love, in the process scattering previous combatants into a desperate political federation. Divide and rule.

Occasionally, some unfortunate sod marries women who are smarter by a mile.

From the onset, they isolate him as the common enemy, forging a strong political and social union that constantly keeps him on his toes.

Never dump

Unfortunately, Kenya’s tribes have never learnt this trick, insisting instead on squabbling like petty co-wives. Look, the coastal strip is Kenya’s first wife. It is in Mombasa that Arabs and Europeans first docked and established a base for foraging into the hinterland. But Kenya then married Machakos and dumped her. Next, he met the "white highlands" and fell hopelessly in love.

But like every man with a polygamous gene, he went further and courted his youngest wife – Nairobi. He then met Western Kenya and Nyanza at a village dance and, smitten by their voluptuous bits, hitched them. But his heart was never there, much as he ‘visited’ once in a while – to chase mongooses away as elders would say.

Before long, he heard that North Eastern was engaged to Somalia and, just to prove he was the main bull, he sneaked up, seduced her to bits and married her. But cruelly, he impregnated her and disappeared, never to return.

Interestingly, much as he was smitten with his prettiest wives – Nairobi and the "white highlands" – Kenya has always kept his land title deed and his best suits in his first wife’s house: Mombasa.

Therefore, caution goes to Mombasa Republican Council (MRC): The first wife, harassed though she may be, never leaves, never sleeps around.

And listen Kenya: You never dump the first wife, brother. Never. Talk to her. Woo her. Remind her of the good old days. Remember she loved you when you had nothing.

And the last word? MRC’s slogan "Pwani si Kenya" is an extremely powerful message, suggesting that lurking beneath the deceptive village-looking uprising are some really sharp, smooth operators.

Be warned, Kenya. Be warned my brother.

Trouble of unplanned parenthood

A rumour wafting through my village in the late 1970s suggested that Maziwa ya Nyayo, courtesy of President Moi’s Free School Milk Programme, was laced with contraceptives.

As we burped with pleasure, some of our colleagues salivated from a distance. They had been banned by their parents at the pain of death from partaking of milk that was intended to castrate them.

One old man even walked to school and wagged his walking stick in the headmaster’s face. No way his son – whom he hoped would sire a bunch of naked grandchildren – was going to be rendered impotent.

A look at my village population today suggests it was a cruel hoax. But when I think about it, I wish those rumours had been true. Had that milk been indeed laced with contraceptives, the sad newspaper headlines we read now and then would have been avoided.

Thrown to the dogs

The last week has been awful for children. We had the 14-year-old girl that was married off by her mother. Enraged classmates frog-marched the offending woman to class – to take the place of the pupil she married off.

Next was the poor girl that was raped only for her parents to prefer to go to jail rather than take her to hospital because religion so demanded. I think we take God for an idiot.

In this matter, a father should grab a knobkerrie and head for the rapist’s house, murder in his mind.

And what can one say of the pretty little girl that was thrown to the dogs in Mombasa? Or the 12-day-old girl that some mother dumped in her lover’s house because of "customs"?