When we parted ways here last week, I was angry. Angry at the fact that not only had Fiolina not shared with me even a shilling of her salary, but she also still expected me to fund her lavish lifestyle. And she had the audacity to tell me that if I do not support her, there are people willing to support her in the end!
I was shocked beyond measure. Although I had kept quiet over the matter, I decided to open up and share with a few friends to understand the way forward.
“Never be a parent to your wife,” said Rasto.
I asked him what he meant by that. He explained, “You made a mistake by starting to pay fees for your wife. Even when she went to college while staying with you, her father should have paid the fees. Her family — but definitely not you.”
I told him that was ridiculous. “How do you wait for the parents to pay fees for someone you are staying with?” I asked,
I told him they were — and he wondered why I went on to pay fees for Fiolina when her parents were still alive.
“It was the reasonable thing to do,” I said. “I would do the same today.”
“And that is why you are suffering — and will always suffer. Please ask those of us who have experience in these matters.”
Hitler, who rarely joins in talks, as he is always busy serving patrons, joined our conversation.
“You made a big mistake, Dre,” he told me. “I told you, but you did not listen. You said you loved your wife so much at the time.”
“Yes, I did love her then,” I said, shaking my head.
“There is nothing like love in a marriage. You young people surprise me when you talk about sijui love. What is love, really?”
I asked him if there was not love, how come he had stayed with his wife for that long?
“It is because everyone knows their job. My job is to look for food and house her. Her job is to make sure I eat every day and my clothes are washed.”
“Surely, why do you stay together with someone you don’t love?” I wondered.
“But you can see we have stayed together for over 40 years without loving each other. Everyone just knows their job and they do it. If I were you, I would not allow Fiolina to take a job like she has.”
“You need to have the money you spent on fees refunded,” said Hitler. “You are not Fiolina’s father. You are not even a deputy parent. Why would you pay her fees?”
“Also, ask her to leave the teaching job and come sit here like other wives — taking care of you.”
I told them that was impossible. Nyayo wondered why I was even seeking their advice if I was unwilling to listen to them.
When I asked my dad, he was on Fiolina’s side.
“A woman cannot just behave like that, especially a woman like Fiolina, whom I know very well. You must have done something so wrong to her. What is it?” he asked.
As I was contemplating what to do next, I received a letter from Fiolina’s father. It was a beautiful letter, where referred to me as “my dear son” in the entire letter.
After the formalities, he said he wanted to meet me alone. We met in Kakamega last week. Before we had lunch, I took him to a shop where I bought him a new suit and a new pair of shoes. Whatever he wanted to discuss with me, I needed to soften his heart so he could listen. We had lunch at Teachers Tavern, where I ordered Ugali Mlima for him and a soda.
Mzee ate slowly, with a keenness that showed he was enjoying the meal.
“Thank you for all you do for Fionila,” he said once he had eaten. Like many old people, he still calls her "Fionila."
He then went straight to the point. He said he wanted to know when we will next visit them. If you remember, when we paid dowry a few years ago, it was just a deposit, and we were to continue paying in instalments. I have never gone back. Mzee was asking when the next instalment would come. So, I told Mzee that my family would be visiting them soon.
“As my son and friend, I wanted to let you know a few things, so you’re prepared ahead of your next visit,” he said calmly.
I was happy to have such a respectful father-in-law, who took it upon himself to confide in me instead of ambushing me. I told him I was ready to listen.
“When you come back, we need to discuss afresh Fiolina’s dowry, because what we agreed on back then cannot be compared to Fiolina now.”
“Now she is an educated woman and with a job,” he said. “You cannot say what we agreed back then still stands. We need to negotiate again.”
I was shocked and reminded him that what we agreed on should remain. And that in any case, I was the one who had taken her to college and helped her get a good job.
“I know that, Andrea. But I was alive — did you ever ask me for fees?” he asked. He also added that had Fiolina been a fool, she would never have passed her college exams, nor become a good teacher.
“Anyway, why am I arguing when I am not the right person? Our elders will tell you the reasons we need to discuss dowry again.”
He stood up and left, without even bidding me a proper farewell. This man — whom I had bought a suit, a pair of shoes, and good lunch, and whose daughter I had transformed! How could he behave like that?
The next day, I received another letter from him, this time through my dad, asking when we would visit the family.
Yes, I will go to Fiolina’s place. But I will not pay an extra shilling or even an extra cat. We will stick to what we had agreed. In fact, I will ask for a discount — given how I had transformed Fiolina. In the meantime, I am appointing a bench of eminent elders who will go with me.
