Marriage and Infidelity: The Pain of Broken Trust

The earth was almost being blinded by the dark and the pathways were full of Love and fantasy as couples found their way to the best positions along the country road to get a better view of the horizon which was slowly caressing deeper into the hills. I was heavy, I was drunk. It had been a long day of hustle and I had drowned myself into two bottles of the second generation alcohol.

Stumbling and lurching with my bones filled with imagined aches my brain still soared to tracing my way home. Weak from the inside but my outer flesh still taking all bullets in a strain to maintain an upright posture, I was finally here, at Mr. Shabiki’s homestead; my boss and my home. I had to touch the gate with a lot of enticement as I made my way in so as to make sure my corrupt soul would go unnoticed for this was surely the 'hoe-liest' place in the entire village!

It was my seventh day here. A home of a rich yet broken husband to a very beautiful yet ugly at heart lady, unpleasant and a true reflection of what SautiSol would in months later sing about- 'Suzanna'. It was an ugly site but I was not any far from a similar experience. All to blame was the 'not knowing our fate' thing.

For the first time in my life I said a word of prayer before enveloping myself for some sleep. No sooner had I blinked off for a tuck than my unarguably state of the art mobile which ceremoniously had the ringtone of an old telephone just to remind the 90s kids always around me that old was gold, rang.

I was so slow to check who the caller was and ignorantly picked it up and carelessly started speaking into it. It was my in-law and it was bad news!

I was at that moment standing at the center of a mild yet so irritating confusion. My instincts, so wrong, the rumors so loud and reality pulling me down into an abyss of abjectness. In-laws whether right or wrong are always bearers of bad news I thought. 'It's your wife. This damsel won't keep her legs closed!' Yes, ours was not a marriage but again she had my child and worst of all stayed in my house!

Fate was finally here and all I could see from where I stood in my small room was a homestead which harbored these birds whose feathers got them flocking together.

With anger growing up in me I could not think straight but thanks to the dominating alcohol in my system, the shock could only last for a few minutes and after which, my brain was clear and all I needed was just sleep not knowing that the sanity would last for as long as my drunkenness could hold.

Finally, morning was here. Sober, hangovered and disturbed was the new figure. From the strenuous look at the window it was crystal clear that it was past 8.00 am and if I Shabiki's wife would be my first sight then my job was hanging on the line. That did not scare me, news of my wife's continued hoe life were still stabbing my brain and my adrenaline summons were growing and so quickly, I grabbed my pair of trousers and fitted them as I made haste to Shabiki's house.

Joining him on his breakfast table, I immediately picked up on the topic of what was bothering me. It was this day that would turn around all my thoughts and question my readiness on saying yes I do. Funny how it seemed being said straight on my face, was how Shabiki would come to realize six years after he thought he had just delivered his last born; only one out of all the six children in his homestead was his.

It was a consolation yes but still I could not get my mind to understand how and why me. Men are trash you say, we have taken that in for so long but do you ever stop for a moment and think about how broken some of us are! Shabiki shook my hand and whispered to my ears as he tapped me off to my duties 'welcome to my world and am sorry you might never win over these feminists; just make sure you are iron hearted or else we shall sing ‘till we meet again.'

-Thoughts of a man previously in love.