My name is Mama John. I know there is no need for me to introduce myself to you since Jimmy Gathu did that already. And the couch potato that Kenyans are, I already feel like a celeb. What with all the viewing I receive. I know it’s only a few minutes long, just in the middle of your favorite program or at meals time, but you just can’t miss me. You can’t.
How can you? I’m usually half dressed, stealthily sneaking from my bed of sin which you may or may not have had a taste of. There is no need to get into details, the guilt on my face tells it all. I really don’t like the way Jimmy sneaks up on me, as do all of you. What with all the judgmental looks on your faces. But I want to tell you something you don’t know, and Jimmy doesn’t either. If he does, he never mentions it.
I hate doing this to my family. My husband is loving…kinda. He provides for us, I mean, he buys us meat on special occasions and takes us to Uhuru park once every year. He really is wonderful, especially to my son whom he hasn’t seen in almost a month. Their times just seem to clash, my boy sleeps at 9 PM while my husband gets home way past midnight.
It’s really not his fault, it’s the bar they opened around the corner. At least I know where he is most of the time, unlike my friend Sue who has no idea where her husband sleeps. I think I’m happy, but i’m mostly miserable. I wish someone would tell Jimmy how much I would like to get out of this mess I got myself to, but his reasons are not helping.
This man who chips funga’s me has no money issues. He has more than he needs. And his wife doesn’t care whether he drowns himself in beer or sleeps with a million of us. Family doesn’t matter to him, and it is starting to stop mattering to me. I wish Jimmy would tell me what has kept him hooked to Cathy for so long.
In our circles, and i’m really not sure what circles those are, money doesn’t really matter. Not in the ‘stay-faithful-or -get-broke’ way. We don’t get broke that fast, because a man who has the guts to book expensive hotels for his clandestine and even take her kids on holiday might have many problems, but money is NOT one of them.
His problems run deeper; he lacks the true value of life-Godliness. And since that comes with every other virtue, he doesn’t have much else. Faithfulness and fidelity don’t make sense to him and he will take woman after woman to bed as Jimmy Gathu taps away on his infidelity calculator.
His pockets remain intact. His life gets emptier…and mine too.
So, here is an open letter to you all. I know I have a problem, but money and fear of HIV are not it. Hold my hand, pull me if you have to, take me to a place where my true emptiness is revealed. Emptiness of the soul, not my coffers and maybe there, only there will my liberation start.