How to know if she is a ‘wife material’

The population of men to women in this country was once touted to be 1:3. This, therefore, means that for every one man, there are three women jostling and angling to catch his eye.

Unfortunately, young women who are seeking husbands do not know that how they behave while at their men’s rural homes is vetting of sorts.

There are things women do that make men outrightly write them off. Look, woman, you are not ‘wife material’ if, when I take you to my rural home and ask you to help my mum milk her cows, all you do is start taking selfies with the animal and then dash to Twitter to post hashtags like #milkingtings #whitemilk #exportmilktoUganda #shagstings and such like things. My friend, you are not ‘wife material’ but a big joker!

What do you think my mum will be thinking as you take those pictures? Then despite my earlier warning that you will need to carry respectable clothes, you insisted on carrying those short skirts that you flaunt to your pals during Blanket and Wine sessions.

I mean, I knew you would occasionally join my folks in doing house chores that would require you to bend. How can you sweep the house in such clothes in my old man’s presence?

Granted, he may be an old cat, but old cats drink milk too. Or have you forgotten that? Then when you join my mum to cook in her smoke-filled kitchen, be advised your whining must be kept at bare minimum.

Kitchen department

Actually, I do not expect you to complain at all. Girl, you have been in that kitchen for just an hour. How many man hours do you think my mum has spent there preparing food for us ever since we were babies?

By the way, it’s also important to note that as you struggle to manage your running nose, my mum will be keenly observing you to see how hygienic you are. If you’re the type to carelessly blow your nose or use your fingers to clear it while handling food and before washing your hands, be warned.

Be warned a lot of vetting takes place in the kitchen. If you’re a joke in that department, forget joining the family.

Come Sunday, do not expect that you will join me and my old man as we drink whiskey under the mango tree. No way. You will accompany mum to the local church.

And please do not say you will go with the car. My mum would prefer you walk so as to give her longer contact hours to ascertain a few other things.

She may not have been inside any psychology class, but believe me you; half an hour of interaction with her will bring a reliable verdict on you. Remember, I warned you about those high heels? I told you to spare the high heels for going shopping in the mall and you would have none of it. Now you have to go to church three kilometres away on foot.

If you dare say that those paths that we have used for years going to school and church are impassable, you will tell my folks where I passed on my way to school, college and eventually the ‘city with many lights’.