As I look through our family photos, memories of our early days come flooding back. Isaac looks so young, vibrant and hopeful in all our pictures. His captivating smile and those elegant clothes of the 1960s. Isaac was the most confident person I had ever met. He was voted as one of the most eligible bachelors at university and in town. The first time we met, was after my best friend and her boyfriend introduced us at a party.
Freda my best friend, invited us to her boyfriend’s flat at KIST, for a meal and some drinks. She lived close by, so I was invited for an overnight stay on a Friday, as I worked as a nursery school teacher in Parklands, which was not too far away. We had been friends through teacher training school and had grown to become close friends.
Eric, her ‘man friend’, as we referred to them in those days, had just been accepted a junior mechanic for a vehicle assembly firm in Thika and would be moving at the end of the month. They were courting for just about one year and this celebration signified something was about to change in my view. Freda loved this man, in a way I never thought possible and it was exciting to watch and learn.
The photo in my hand, shows Freda and I seated on a sofa, laughing. Our chats always elicited laughter and hugs. She was my sister then, as she is now. We shared tears and laughter through the years and I count myself lucky to have a friend like her. Our husbands became fast friends and our children too.
Then Isaac’s photo came next. Eric had just pulled a prank on him and Freda quickly his reaction on camera. It was a great joke that broke the male ice between them. Eric remained a loyal friend to the end. That evening’s small party, with a lot of roast chicken and fish was special. Freda and I knocked back two Baby Chams and got to giggling. So we sat outside the kitchen, by the fire and talked until the music started. The rhumba hits got us up and we danced until we sobered up. Our boyfriends were laughing and sharing stories in loud slurry voices. Once they got dancing they too sobered up and we sat telling stories of our childhood escapades.em
Freda and Eric got married the year after he moved to Thika, on promotion at a vehicle assembly plant. It was a difficult year for both of them. The distance was a challenge as they could only afford to meet once a month. That meant Freda and I spent every free weekend together. She came or to my hostel and the next weekend, I would spend nights at her hostel. It was against the rules, but eventually the lady-managers allowed it.
Isaac met a lady from my college and began dating. Four months later, they broke up, when he caught another man sneaking into her hostel. She opened her door, hugged the other man and drew him in. Isaac confronted them and left with a broken heart. He sought Freda and I out, and soon he was travelling with us to visit Eric on the second weekend of every month.
One long weekend, Eric proposed and asked Freda to travel upcountry for the day, to visit his parents. Isaac and I took Freda to Thika and we left them planning their day trip to Kitui. On the way back, Isaac sat next to me. The conversation was a little awkward, in Freda’s absence, as the country bus roared its way back to Nairobi. Chickens squaked from the laps of the women bringing their wares, enroute to visit family in the city. Bunches of green bananas swayed to and fro, as the bus lurched with each shifting gear. Some passengers dozed off, eyes too heavy from the diesel smoke at the back fo the bus. Others chattered with strangers next to them. The journey was only two and a half hours, as we made only a few stops. I eventually fell asleep, as our conversation lulled. Suddenly the bus came to an abrupt halt at the next stop and I woke up to find Isaac had his arm around me, with my head on his shoulder. He gently kissed my lips in the fading light of early evening. I knew then and there, that this man and his strong arms were all I needed to feel loved and protected. This one time, I did not resist and snuggled, feigning sleep as I secretly smiled with joy and relief: Isaac actually liked me.
I called Freda, as soon as the hostel’s call box was free. She was elated and kept asking about every detail of our journey back to Nairobi. Once I mentioned Isaac had taken another matatu with me to see me home safely, she squealed! She was jumping up and down with excitement and I was giggling frantically, as I narrated every detail, the second time around. That was April of 1968.
By November the same year, Isaac had asked my father for my hand in marriage. Freda and Eric had accompanied us to Machakos. Isaac impressed my parents and I was relieved when everything progressed smoothly towards our wedding day. There I was, this shy, petite woman feeling complete, with the man she loved.
Isaac had already begun his career at the insurance firm and was doing well. His first eleven months had been quite a challenge but in the end, he had proven his worth and mettle. He was now a full clerk and enjoying his role. Then a bank approached him, offering him a 1,000 shilling raise and perks, including eligibility for a car loan in three months. We had discussed it and once Eric encouraged him, Isaac took the offer and started two months later. That was when he proposed. In early 1969, Saturday February 8th to be exact, we got married at a small wedding in Machakos, at our family’s Anglican parish. All the 18 guests, including our parents, siblings and neighbours joined us in dancing and singing the day away. The priest and his wife danced with us and our parents. We had cake and tea, with muthukui, some ugali, fresh cooked greens and some sroast meat. It was a beautiful day, with the sun shining and a few rain showers after to bless our union.
Late August that same year, I realized Isaac was often anxious and pensive about something. Every tome I asked, he would laugh it off and and take my hand changing the subject and deflect. It was obvious to me but I chose not to worry and put it as a priority in prayer. A few weeks after, he came home, took off his suit jacket, kicked off his shoes at the door and walked into the living room and lay down on the couch, then quickly drifted off to sleep. I presumed he just needed a nap and walked back to the kitchen with the tea I had prepared and busied myself upstairs, hanging up his suit jacket and turning down the covers on our bed. He was snoring. As I raised the hangar into the closet, a white piece of folded paper fell to the floor. I picked it up, assuming it was a receipt, only to realize it was a hand-written personal note.
Unfolding the note was easy but reading the contents hurt my heart. It was probably authored by a young woman, who implored Isaac to take responsibility for her pregnancy and have her reassigned back to the Nairobi office, back from the Embu branch of the bank. Her note referred to her previous unanswered letters and telephone calls, her desperate need for financial assistance and a strong plea to make his forthcoming child a priority. My Isaac had gone ahead to do the unthinkable and father a child outside of our marriage; I thought.
Isaac was a very honest and dependable kind of man. How did this happen? When? Where? Who was she? I glanced back at the bottom of the note and saw the name, Angela Onami. I picked up her passport sized photo off the floor, hands trembling, gasping for breath. I turned to the telephone by our bed and called Freda. We cried together, in disbelief. We ironed out a plan and agreed to keep it between us and watch and learn before taking any action. The veins on my forehead throbbed and my little heart hurt so much. My hands remained cold but not clamy.
Isaac stirred from his long nap soon after six-thirty and yawned loudly, as he rubbed his eyes. He turned to me, blinked, sat up and blew me kisses, as I continued darning an old pair of his weekend trousers. I smiled back and caught the kisses, pretending to catch each kiss and holding them against my heart. His eyes were sad, as his secret quietly weighed on him. I smiled at him, to reassure him, thinking how tough it was going to be.
Freda showed up at our door that Saturday morning, minutes after Isaac left for work,, blurting out, “I waited until he left. I stood across the road in a scarf and my raincoat. That got me a few quizical stares from your neighbours, but I has to make sure you are alright.” Tears welling, I pulled her into a hug, “I am so glad you came. I was thinking where to go and pass the next few hours, until he comes.
We commiserated over tea, sweet potatoes, arrow root and maize. I could barely eat and that was when she pulled out two small packets of short bread biscuits and we ate to our fill. Freda asked if Isaac was treating me well, to which I answered, ” Better than ever and that worries me…”
“It’s a mixture of guilt and shame. Plus, he probably has no idea what to say to you. You have been amazing and… he had a father who did the very same thing to his mother, marrying two other wives, and siring seventeen children. Remember, he and his siblings and mother suffered intolerable ill-treatment at the hands of his father and sprawling brood. No man can handle more than one wife and he knows it by example. He has no idea how or what to say to you. So he’s probably trying to make this all go away!”
We cried some more and clung to one another. An Aunt on my side of the family had been poisoned by her co-wife and since then, no one in my family would even consider taking another wife. The world of polygamy was the last thing I wanted to live with. Women in our time had no recourse on these matters, it seemed. The new modern society in this country had quietly thrown out the old statutory customs and adopted new and imperial ways for men to manipulate women in society. That is the trap I would struggle to avoid.
That night, as we settled for bed, he saw the her note and photograph on his bedside table, glanced at me and teared up. Sitting there in his pyjama trousers, he picked up both items and turned to me, visibly shaken but willing his strength to share the truth. His voice was barely a whisper, as he talked about how they worked together in the same department. She was their team secretary and had pursued him, only when the other guys rejected her advances. In a moment of weakness, he momentarily let down his guard and let her have her way, believing she would stop at the right moment. She went full steam ahead and mercilessly teased him about it, once it was over. He felt humiliated and weak. soon after Isaac began to spurn the young woman’s advances. She tried and tried and before long she stopped trying to entrap him. She worked hard to make him jealous, flirting with men from different departments. Then one day he overheard three guys in the washroom speaking,
“That girl is getting on my nerves! What makes her think Id be interested? So annoying” scoffed the first guy.
“So I am not the only who knows she’s ‘passed the come-sit-with-me-on-the-couch’ tests with managers?”asked the second guy. “Where’s the power in that?”
“What? So she’s only 22 years or so and has been with a number of them. That’s so degrading!” added another. “Yuck!” And they left the washrooms.
Isaac bared his heart, saying,
“From that day to this, I have not spoken to her and only found out today, that she had left me this note in my bottom drawer, after she was informed of her sudden transfer to a very slow and quiet branch. I’d heard that she has used the same ruse on a number of guys at the office. I just had no idea I was one of them. ”
He confided in me further, telling me how the new department secretary; a strict old-school staff member shared with him the last bit of news about Angela. She found herself relegated to an out of the way town, with no friends, on a warning letter and pregnant, without any idea who the father was. She was now due to have her baby in three weeks. By our calculations, she fell pregnant at least four months after hers and Isaac’s brief encounter. It had scared him at first, because Angela lied a lot and withheld most details. We talked late into the night, just like the old days and fell asleep as fast friends turned lovers.
I cried because relief washed over me in waves. I cried because my beautiful relationship been threatened by a lack of self control. I cried some more because maybe I could have a beautiful future with Isaac. Now I remember, we cried together. We made promises to one another and we have worked hard to keep them since. I am crying now as I remember, because I am grateful for promises kept for the last 50 years.
Short Stories & Poems by WarmBreezeBliss 