James Munyeria Photo 2

Once upon a time good men.

Dear Mrs, I have full intention of keeping this discussion short and hopefully sweet, so I am going to require you to ‘vuruta stool’ and listen.

First, you took all the good men and turned them bad. You snatched them from all the single girls and proceeded to parade them down the aisle for all to see, some of you demanded for cows and goats and fancy ‘ruracio’ ceremonies, some of you announced impromptu arrival of pregnancy, some of you arrived in your men’s houses on one random Sunday to help with the cleaning and you have never left – ten years later- some of you just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought it wise to say ‘hi’ to the fine young man – you have never left the hood years later – some of you decided to hang around his house as you waited for your KCSE results to be released – years later you are still waiting in his house – some of you escaped from your mother’s house at night with nothing on save for see me through night gown- you have never stopped being pregnant since then, some of you were hit –on point – by an overzealous City penis that had come home for the Christmas holiday, on some maize plantation in the village and you decided to follow the said penis to the city for a constant reminder of December, some of you went to Ukambani and deposited his boxers and pubic hair in a black pot full of dried up chapatis –yes I see you, Some of you followed the wallet, family fame and fortune, some of you waited for your pastors to dream for you and point out a young man to breed with, some of you just woke up married, whatever way it happened, in whatever fashion, more power to you girl!

Now you are married, you have beautiful children, a beautiful home and a dog called ‘simba’ or ‘rufus’ depending on which side of the street you live in. Woman, you have sizzled down now, you bake, you run things, your husband looks fat from all your kitchen efforts, look at him seated in that beautiful house weaving his hands through a stream of blonde weave, listening to ‘bae’ cheer his dreams on. Woman, you know that is not you resting your head on his shoulders, you know you have no blonde weave, neither does your husband call you ‘bae’. That is his other one, his plan of the side, his once Friday to Sunday now turned Monday to Sunday, his other woman now turned his only woman.

You are no longer your husband’s cheerleaders
Since the day you got married, you have successfully turned into your husband’s biggest nightmare. You nag worse than an ill prepared Opposition party. You are a non- appreciative buzzing mosquito that never appreciates any efforts made by Dear Husband. You are a leech that takes and takes but is never willing to give. You want him to compete with other men in church or in your work place, he is doing the best that he can to keep up with the kardashian, but you silly self does not appreciate it, Your man dreads coming back home every evening, he is wary of sleeping next to you, the walls cave in on his soul whenever you appear, he cannot face you with a sober face, he regrets his choices, you are on top of that list.

If you have a man who is trying, this man wakes up earlier than the proverbial worm, he is always on the road chasing that paper to feed and sustain you, if you have a man who has never smelled fresh and clean, all he is, is sweat and dust in the name of his family, if you have a man who stays up all night dreaming and cooking up new strategies to elevate you – no matter how rough and rugged those dreams are- if you have that man in your house, you had better treat him right.

You stay up with him all night and brew those dreams together, you clean his shirts and soak his smelly socks in sweet perfume water, you clip his dirt clogged nails and oil his cracked lips daily, you feed his soul with love and warmth, you do that because if you do not, there is a woman out there willing to bow at you man and call him king for every little thing that he does, that woman will become your husband’s biggest support system, your husband will flourish because of her, whenever he closes a deal or accomplishes something new she will be the first to know not you. And you wonder why your husband has suddenly changed, rich and successful from nowhere and now you want to flaunt to him to your friends after years of pulling him down with your words and actions…it is not you honey, it is her, all about her- the other woman you gifted your husband! That is why when your husband’s die there is always some woman who appears with better knowledge of your man and his wealth and more often than not is flunked by children – identical to dear deceased Husband.

I don’t know about other cultures but men from tribe of ‘house’ take particular pride in flourishing under the wings of the other woman, so much so that they actually introduce them to their parents, and am telling you once a kikuyu man introduces you to his parents, consider yourself formally loved and married- whether there is a first wife or not!

Woman, sex is not a reward
I hear that nowadays your husband cannot touch you, he is a bother who does not deserve your attention. I hear that for you to part your legs to allow him entry in your enchanted forest he must deserve it, he must earn it. Osorait…

But of course, you do realize that there is a woman out there willing to dribble your husband –left, right and centre, any time of the day or night right? And now you suddenly wonder why your husband is no longer interested in having sex under the cover of night –missionary style, you are suddenly amused at his expertise and flexibility and his new resolve to explain to you what ‘sixty nine’ is all about. You suddenly think that your man has new interest in you, that he suddenly finds you sexy, woman snap out of it, he has been taught and spoilt by another woman while you tied your thighs with sisal fibre to punish him for whatever reason, now he will punish you with disease, a new improved sex curriculum that you did not develop together, and new souls to add to your marriage ties, good luck with that!

You do justice to that man and his penis. You love him 101 ways- daily, so much so he will not have energy to erect anywhere else. You stamp your bodily parts on his bodily parts like a Government of Kenya Logo, It is your constitutional Obligation to sex that man – free of charge, read your constitution somewhere between Article One and Article 76! Then tell me whether he will not buy you a red vitz, land at Langata Primary, an oil bore hole at Ngamia One, shares at safaricom, make you his Official Cabinet Secretary in charge Of Devolution- Devolving tender love and care- without even having to ask for them.

‘A’ for ‘Effort’
So you got married and arrived, good for you and your six month Darling weave that aint so darling anymore. Good for you and your ‘Niko Na MPESA Safaricom’ Tshirt that you sleep in. Good for you and your gunny bag underwear that makes your buttocks look like a carrot cake gone stale, good for you. Good for you and your over grown pot belly which has now swallowed you once shapely waist with disgusting tyres that makes you huff and puff like a goat, good for you. Now, before you throw stones allow me to explain, I understand- woman’s body changes due to many reasons including childbirth, but that is no excuse to let yourselves go. I have been inspired by more than Ten Thousand women from different walks of life, going through life and its issues, on a weight lose Online Platform – OLTPB- enough to know that there is no excuse in remaining unfit. You have resigned to not being sexy anymore, to not being fit anymore, some of you cannot even look at yourselves on the mirror, you hate yourselves, yet you do nothing but sit and wallow in misery all day as your husband’s chase skinny buttocks all over town. Your sex drive…what sex drive?

Get up, get fit, get your sexiness back, get your life back, and while you are at it, get your man back!

Get a life!
Before you became Mrs. You were Miss. You had a life, your life. You were doing you and you were good at it. Now you got married, and because chief Inspector Mwala, smh! Your husband’s phone will not ring without you wanting to know who it is, you suddenly hate all your husband’s female friends – you call then home wreckers- these friends were there before you existed, some even childhood friends, these home wreckers know your Dear Husband – in and out – they can tell you everything about him, including his gay stint at the university. You stalk your husband to the bar, you arrive and sit at a corner and ask for warm milk as you sneer at all the heathens shaking the night away, you don’t want to go home neither do you want to talk to Dear Husband. You arrive at his office and interrogate his assistants then proceed to remind them that you can get them all fired from the company should they set their eyes on your husband – you do not remember that your husband is only but a junior clerk in the said company. That is why your men would rather lie or fake disease than arrive with you clinging on his arm at the end of year party at his office. Get your own life, use of education papers, form a facebook group, get your own friends, Join a church choir, for heaven’s sake let the man breathe, kai ari gani!

Own up
The skinny bitch you blame for everything gone wrong in your life has her own weight issues to deal with, deal with yours, Own up to your mistakes, own up to your contribution to the invention ‘Mpango wa kando’ then, get your man back and spare many single girls the agony of being stalked by old men who insist on doing the sekem dance in public, texting ‘xaxa’ and flooding whatsapp chats with pornhub links and videos, pris pris pris, get your men back!

Dear Married Woman, I will leave you with the wise words of Konshens; Do Something, Do Something, Do Something!
Twi Hamwe?

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