“Listen, there’s something you said l four or five years ago about married men.”


“That cheating husbands are the ones responsible for their cheating. Not the women they cheat with.”

“Yeah, because the husbands made the unsustainable, unattainable vows to their wives while caught up in the smell and mood of big weddings, forgetting that people change. Feelings are never ever constant and human beings are only consistent in their inherent primitivity.”

“How can you say such things one day you will get married right?”

“I doubt it. The current state of ‘unions’ is the reason I stay single.”

“You are not making sense. You support the cheating but it’s the reason you are afraid of being with someone…”

“When did I say I support the cheating?”

“So you agree that these other women cannot just be down with other people’s private parts.”

“I don’t have to agree because I know what I said. I said they should not be held responsible for failure of marriages that are not theirs. They are third party liability. They don’t indemnify wives against third party harm, the husbands do”

“Marriage is not like a commercial contract…”

“It is in fact a commercial contract. Just the number of business transactions involved in getting two people dating, fucking, engaged, and married is astounding.”

“Stop laughing.”

“I don’t understand why you are all of a sudden so passionate about wedded men and the moral dilemmas they and their insignificant others lack. Listen, did I ever tell you I in-boxed with a married man?”

“Like dick in your box or messaging?”

“A lot of messaging. Near sexing.”

“Tell me or shut up.”

“First unakunywa uji fermented ama ya maziwa? We need to order.”

“Why did you even make me come to near downtown CBD for porridge?”

“Is there another porridge joint where you think you should be?”


“Exactly, Highlands has been putting out good porridge for years so have an open mind. Nairobi is your city, all of it, not just kwa mabarbie. Fermented or with milk? You are even lucky I did not bring you here mid-morning-amidst-Covid when the place is packed with shoulders bumping everywhere as if we are not sufficiently traumatized by that ‘imported virus’.”

“Fermented basi, and I don’t want to talk about corona virus. Wachana tu nayo.”

“Me too, I will get fermented.”

“That’s great. Call the waiter.”


“So this married man you were chatting up…”

“Yeah. There was a connection coming on and at some point I was willing to risk it until we started talking about sex and he began to sound like an experience I would regret.”

“Kwani what did he say?”

“He said I am taller and he is so short, with all of his miniscule chest he asked ‘technically how is this going to work?’ And I started to feel heavy disappointments.”

“Heavy disappointments?”


“Elaborate please…”

“First, I felt like this idiot didn’t really want to get it on he was just using me for motivational aphrodisiac texting or foreplay before jumping his wife for morning glory. Cause he’d text aggressively at weird hours…like 2am…day in day out.”

“You sweet good Samaritan doing the lord’s work in the wee…wicked… hours. You were building a marriage. Making it better. Jazzing it up. There is none like you. Only to be rewarded with ‘heavy disappointments’.”

“Quit that tone with me. Anyway, in the middle of all this I found out he is quite riotous with extramarital activities so no he was not even warming his dick for his wife after all.”

“So that’s heavy disappointment number one. Which is the second one?”

“Second one was this fool nearly made me do something I had sworn never to do when he’s probably a bad lay.”

“Cause he couldn’t fathom that tall people have sex with short people.”

“Yes. No way in hell I was going to be giving someone, a married man at worst, directions around my vagina and how best to access it.”

“So what was the connection if any?”

“He had different thoughts about things and we agreed on almost all philosophies and contexts to the point he one day said we should get married and polygamy is good this and that. And I was like ‘fuck you in another life please’. I am laughing now but just the level of self-centeredness, self-preservation, and assholery was intriguing. I was first lost in his bullshit when he said he is animist. I am not even one but that was it. He saw things outside what he was taught or raised to see and believe. I used to get upset when he didn’t text consistently. It would ruin my whole mood and shit. I’d be checking my notifications a million times from 2am.”

“Your chura kimbelembele story is not adding up but okay. Is that nonsense you just said what made you want to fuck him so much?”

“I like how you find that funny. No, I don’t know that I even wanted to sleep with him so desperately…his damn-ass short-tall analysis saved me from finding out. Before that I can’t say I got to a point where I would have had clandestine fuckation with him.”

“So really, why didn’t you do it?”

“I think my ancestors looked at him and were like, ‘Do not lose our generational and familial common sense in this stunted situation!’

“Seriously, I am trying to understand you.”

“Okay, I think it’s unnatural.”

“So you think being with a white dude is unnatural, and you also think sex with a married man is unnatural?”

“Not only unnatural but also high risk.”

“Aki sikuelewi.”

“You know how married men, or men in general with ambitions, view mistresses or prostitutes as something that could fuck up their plans or legacies…or even inheritance? I am that paranoid about married men. I want to be powerful. I want to run the MFing world. I feel like one day I will be at my best, walking and glowing into greatness with a sparkling halo and credentials to die for, and right then – when it matters most, where the coconut meets the mbaazi, where the teeth meet the chicken’s bone, where the tamarind cuts the tongue, the best part – some pest paid blogger tabloid will get an inbox and the whole universe will find out that I once uncomfortably fucked a short married man. Imagine losing everything because of a husband, let alone somebody else’s husband? Fuck that. Not happening. Creeping with a married man is bad for business and personal development. And they know it and that is why they try and fuck around with us. To just ruin shit. Bloody-suck all phenomenal things out of your soul and take them home to improve their already exemplary wives. Nuksi. Hii uji inachoma kifua sis.”

“You really overthink.”

“Probably true.”

“So away from your unclear issues and back to my question.  Why do you feel it is not a big deal for other women to get into relationships or whatever with married men?”

“Why are you asking me things I did not say? I said they are not responsible for the marriages. Meaning that the wife of a cheating husband should not obsess about the other woman. The person she should be fighting and insulting and shaming publicly is her dumbass husband. The only and other contract party. ”

“But if Becky with the Good Hair from Lemonade taught us anything it’s you can’t just ignore the wife’s pain or the emotional, physical and sometimes financial investment she has put in her husband.”

“Talking with your chest about ‘FiNAnCiaL investmenTTT’ of wives yet you just said marriage is not a commercial contract.  But like I already told you the third party is not invested in the terms that led to a marriage.”

“What if the third party ends up being a wife too?”

“Like a second wife?”

“Yeah, polygamy. And then there are three known people in one marriage.”

“Polygamy has context, social and legal.”


“It’s true, people just can’t be second wives willy-nilly, recklessly. You can go to jail for that shit?”

“It’s not a crime to be a second wife, my god. You are so extreme.”

“Oh yes it is. Don’t even entertain the thought.”

“Wacha story. Polygamy could never be a crime. Especially not in Africa.”

“If the first marriage was a customary one or an Islamic one then polygamy is okay and allowed. But these men out here who did civil marriages and church weddings first and then take dowry to other women’s parents ati saying they are ‘making’ them their second wives? That’s criminal stuff.”


“The law says people who are already legally married and have marriage certificates and documents cannot go marry other people under any native law or custom.”


“And there’s more…”

“Tell me or shut up.”

“If your stupid ass marries someone who you know is married, you can go to Lang’ata Women’s for five years…or less. Legit a criminal. Even the community husband will go to Kamiti for the same time.”

“You have got to be kidding me right now.”

“Oh but there’s more. You know the way women meet a married man who married his first wife customarily and then you convince him to take you to Sheria House or to marry you in church?”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Securing the man and a future plus you also have a marriage certificate and she doesn’t so when push comes to shove, ‘I am the legal wife.’”

“No you are not. You are a criminal sis.”


“It’s the flip side of the other. You can’t get into a civil or Christian marriage if your first marriage is a customary marriage. Once a man starts customary, he has to finish customary.”

“You are laughing so you must be joking.”

“Maximum five years in prison. A whole presidential term will go with you sharing and reusing sanitary towels somewhere you should never have been in the first place if you had the sense to John-Cena a married man and say no to crime.”

“But nobody knows this. For real. You are fucking with me.”

“Ignorance is no defence.”

“I know but…”

“Just the fact that someone does something they shouldn’t and gets away with it doesn’t mean they are not culpable. I will make it easy for you. The other day my sister took me to Marikiti to get veggies on the bargain. We saw some women selling potatoes. They had put a 50bob sign in front of a reasonable pile of big potatoes. I got excited and gave one the 50 bob and proceeded to point at the pile. She told me those were 100bob and the smaller piles behind it were the ones that were 50bob. I told her to give me back my money she told me to take the damn small potatoes or fuck off. I told her to keep the money AND the potatoes and go fuck herself. She was wrong and she got away with it.”

“Sis, you should have told her to give back your money or you call the cops.”

“And be lynched in the middle of a market that I didn’t know the back or front of?”

“I see. So what does your Marikiti story have to do with your marriage laws?”

“Sometimes the law is not enforced as it should be because no one wants to be communally lynched, literally or otherwise.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Public service announcement: Just keep fucking married men if you want but don’t let them linger. Don’t even let them know your real name or where you live or where you work. Have a separate phone line for each. Use a fake name on social media, I don’t know, be like the Red Woman if you have direct access to your gods or ancestors. Evaporate without trace.”

“And their poor wives?”

“Unless it’s a three-way with consent, and a strong non-disclosure agreement in your favor, they have no place in your mind or conscience.”

“Look at you with that drunk-on-New-Years 2020 Don Lemon attitude.”

“Oh yeah, he toasted on live international television to the breaking of marriages. That was hilarious. I thought I was the only one who heard that.”

“I did too.”

“Do they have lemons here?”

“You have really bad puns. I ignored what you tried to with the wee-wicked-hours and I feel like you are about to annoy me monumentally…”

“No this is not a drill. I want lemons to make this uji more sour.”

“I am sure they do but Nairobi’s lemons, like its eggs, have worms.”

“So if life gives you Nairobi lemons you DON make Lewormade?”

“Fucking stop please.”

© Linda Musita 2022