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MR SURVIVOR: My marital nirvana comes at a high price

Couple

After the Valentine’s hangover was over, I was shocked by the vows I made to Queen during the romantic intoxication of the evening.

Photo credit: Shutterstock

If you have been with me on this survivor series, then you will remember my telling you how I took my Queen out for a Valentine’s Day dinner against the wisdom of the men of Happy Valley and particularly the followers of men’s conference.

Because I ‘adulterated’ the sanctity of the brotherhood, I have already received summons from the Sanhedrin of Happy Valley. In preparation for the duel, I have procured the services of Mrembo, my business partner, as my lead counsel; but that is a story for another day.

The sweet fruits of the Valentine’s Day dinner were my immediate reinstatement to marital nirvana. I had hoped that the romantic rendezvous, which dug a big hole in my already torn financial pockets, was sufficient bonga points to last me up to the Easter season when I planned to top up. What I seemed to have forgotten was Queen’s words, “Valentine should not be a one day ritual but an everyday activity,” she had said.

I can now understand why, unlike her, Queen had readily accepted to go out on a pagan ritual. What I failed to read from that abnormality was that I was being baited. In other words, I had got myself right into ‘Queen’s box’ headfirst.

You see, this is the season of chama elections and Queen is in the thick of highly volatile campaigns. As it has happened every other year in the past, Queen is abnormally good to me during this season. This is because of my invaluable political stratagem and my terrain hardened Volkswagen Beetle. These are two election weapons that Queen has heavily relied on to retain the coveted position of the super chairlady of Aberdare’s conglomeration of chamas.

Now, after the hangover of Valentine’s Day was over, I was shocked by the vows I made to Queen during the romantic intoxication of the evening. One of the vows, and the major one, was that I would from that day wholeheartedly and without persuasion and hesitation support her adventures with all my resources.

“You do not support my ideas because you fear that I shall outshine you,” Queen said then.

“I have always supported your ideas. It was only recently that I took the hustlers’ fund loan to assist you revive your supermarket,” I defended myself.

“Yes, you support me but I have to wash your feet before you do it. A man who loves his wife supports her ideas without waiting to be bribed,” Queen said.

“From this very evening going forward, I shall support all your ideas with all my heart, body and soul,” I said.

So, when the reverie was over, I realised the mess I had gotten myself into. And because of the fear of being banished back to marital Siberia, I had no choice but to play ball. I was better fighting one war—the Sanhedrin of Happy Valley.

From Wednesday, I have been at the beck and call of my Queen. As usual, it has come at a high price. The first thing was to give my Volkswagen Beetle, aka Concorde, a thorough facelift befitting a woman of Queen’s social stature.

“Please ensure that our family car does not embarrass us. It can make me lose the seat,” Queen said.

You see, when we are in good terms, she calls it our family car but when we are in a shouting match, she calls it a tortoise.

Now, apart from the cost of the facelift, I have to fuel the car and buy Queen heavy lunches at good hotels in the name of supporting her political adventures. I am not complaining, and as the loving and caring husband I am to Queen, I have been traversing the entire Aberdare countryside with her to campaign.

Despite my invaluable contribution towards making her campaign a success, she has never introduced me as her husband. My brain tells me that she tells them I am her driver or a taxi driver at the very best. A woman who employs a male driver or hires a taxi will certainly look very independent minded and therefore a reliable leader of the women’s chama.

That notwithstanding, I shall continue supporting her, as I had promised, in the hopes that she will also support me by reinstating me to my position of depositing the chama money. If she can trust me to offer her psycho-social support in the campaigns, then she should trust me with the lesser role of depositing the chama money.

And that is how I suspended my taxi business so that I could concentrate with Queen’s campaigns. That is a cheap price to pay for the marital nirvana reigning in the Palace. In the meantime, I am waiting for the Sanhedrin of Happy Valley.

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