The age-old tradition of women cooking for their husbands is being redefined.
Some women argue that cooking for a husband is not part of marriage vows, neither is it the glue that holds the marriage. That there are hundreds of career women who have never stepped into the kitchen save to chop lettuce and cucumber or to boil an egg, and their marriage has lasted 50 years.
The debate around whether cooking for a husband is an essential part of marriage continues to spark contrasting opinions.
Some men hold firm to traditional views, desiring partners who can cook meals reminiscent of their mothers' kitchens. That if it is chapati, it should taste as his mother’s did or even better. If a woman cannot cook, then it is a marriage deal breaker.
Duncan Mutua, now 32 and a manager in a leading insurance firm in Nairobi, is one of the men who says he ended his first serious relationship because his fiancée lacked culinary skills.
Duncan’s story begins with a whirlwind romance that took him all the way to Kerugoya, Kirinyaga County, for dowry negotiations.
Within just two weeks of meeting, she had invited him over, treating him to a mouth-watering meal of freshly made chapatis and refreshing mango juice — an experience that made him certain she was an exceptional cook, for in his mind, anyone who could make perfect, layered chapatis could surely prepare any meal.
However, this assumption was put to the test just a few months later when they moved in together, and Duncan discovered that his fiancée had no interest in cooking.
What had started as a romantic spark quickly fizzled, as Duncan realised that despite his initial impression, his soon-to-be wife never stepped into the kitchen once.
“I had to buy food from supermarkets and butcheries almost every day, and it became too expensive. I even discussed the issue with her, but she simply said she didn’t know how to cook. I wasn’t great at it either, and she wasn’t willing to learn, so we ended things,” Duncan says.
His decision to leave her behind wasn’t just about the financial strain; it symbolised a growing frustration with shifting roles in relationships that left him feeling disconnected.
Now, he is dating a Tanzanian woman, whom he proudly describes as a wonderful cook, perhaps reflecting the deep-rooted traditional expectations that many African men still carry — that a wife’s role, especially in the kitchen, remains a cornerstone of a successful marriage.
For generations, cooking for the family, and particularly for one’s husband, has been a symbol of care, love, and dutiful fulfilment of wifely responsibilities.
However, as more women enter the workforce, climb the career ladder, and embrace personal ambitions, this age-old tradition is being redefined, leaving many men, like Duncan, grappling with changing dynamics.
The rise of food delivery apps, prepared meal start-ups, and even personal chefs have made access to meals as simple as tapping a button, further challenging the notion that women should spend hours in the kitchen preparing meals.
Companies like Uber Eats and Bolt Food have reported surges in food orders such as yellow beans coconut chapati and chicken salads, taking the place of home-cooked meals.
Yet, it isn’t just convenience reshaping these roles; it’s also a reflection of shifting expectations in relationships.
For some women, like Sally Wanjira, a mother of two and a professional who has been married for over 15 years, the idea that cooking is solely a woman’s responsibility is outdated.
When Sally got married, she was already a working-class woman, and from the start, cooking for her husband wasn’t a priority.
Today, she only steps into the kitchen when absolutely necessary — typically when her house help is on leave during the holidays.
“My husband also cooks for me and the children. We take turns,” she says, her voice steady with confidence, as she explains that in her household, meal preparation is a shared responsibility.
With a demanding full-time job, side hustles, school commitments, and church activities that keep her swamped, Sally doesn't see the need to conform to the pressures of daily cooking, especially when she and her husband have found a balance that works for them.
“I’ve come to understand that marriage is about partnership. Sometimes, my husband serves his food himself, and there’s peace in that. I don’t have to be the one serving him every day,” she adds.
For generations, cooking for the family, and particularly for one’s husband, has been a symbol of care, love, and dutiful fulfilment of wifely responsibilities.
While Sally takes pride in being organised — planning the family’s meals and even hosting the occasional nyama choma — she no longer feels compelled to carry the burden alone.
“It’s all about balance,” she says with a shrug, unbothered by societal expectations.
But not all women feel the same sense of balance. Stella Omari, a mother of one, recalls how cooking for her husband once brought her joy, especially when she would prepare his favourite chapatis.
However, everything changed one evening when her husband came home with chapatis from a friend’s house, ignoring the ones she had just made.
The hurt ran deeper than the meal itself; it was about feeling undervalued, and compared to another woman. Since that day, Stella has stopped making chapatis entirely. Although she still enjoys cooking for her family, the incident has shifted her approach.
“I want honesty in our marriage, but not in a way that makes me feel like I’m being compared to someone else,” she says, noting how delicate feedback can be when it comes to household roles.
Milka Kebaso, another woman who juggled a demanding career and household responsibilities, took a different approach. For 12 years, she believed that rushing home early to cook dinner for her family was the key to keeping her marriage intact, even though her career required long hours.
But her efforts weren’t enough to save her marriage. Her husband’s infidelity and lack of involvement in their children’s lives made Milka realise that no amount of cooking could mend the cracks in her relationship.
“I was more of a single parent than a wife,” she admits, looking back on the emotional toll it took on her. Eventually, she made the difficult decision to leave the marriage, focusing instead on providing a stable, happy environment for her children.
For Zawadi Mwele, a mother raising an autistic child, cooking is not something she does regularly, but her situation adds a layer of complexity. With strict dietary needs for her child and a husband who appreciates her meals whenever she feels like cooking, Zawadi’s approach is one of flexibility rather than duty.
“I only cook when I want to, and my husband understands that,” she says, laughing as she recalls her husband’s aversion to spices despite his fondness for alcohol. “I tell him that spices are my alcohol, and life is too short to keep trying to please everyone—even your husband!”
As more African women choose to focus on their careers, personal fulfilment, and raising families, the pressure to conform to traditional roles is slowly fading. While some women like Sally and Zawadi have found balance with supportive partners, others like
Milka and Stella have had to navigate more challenging paths, realising that cooking isn’t the glue that holds a marriage together. Whether it’s stepping out of the kitchen for a break or stepping back entirely, the modern African woman is rewriting the script, finding her place in a society that is slowly embracing the idea that a woman’s worth goes far beyond the meals she prepares.
